by Vi Voxley
Such a pity he hates my guts. Both of mine, actually. We would get along so well if he didn’t. Everyone I like is bound to want me dead one day.
Areon kept himself carefully concealed under the protective cloak of his hidden armor. It buzzed very silently, a clear sign that the mirroring effect was in place. Anyone watching the pillar very closely would only see the sky. He couldn’t do with someone overly curious looking up and seeing him perched there, now could he? He was looking at what they were doing to the arena.
His mouth twisted into an amused sneer. It seemed the Overlord wasn’t going to let all the credit go to the first day. Underneath him, the arena had transformed. It was even deeper than it had been the day before. But it seemed the chasm was now firmly covered up. The vast arena stretching wide enough to accommodate all of the champions was now, well, a cage. There was no other way to describe the feeling he got while looking at the glassy roof covering the arena floor. It couldn’t really be glass or anything that fragile. No, if he knew the Overlord at all – and he did – it would be something nasty.
Areon felt he knew the Overlord quite well. He didn’t come to his service three years ago to daydream and grope his daughters. Okay, perhaps the latter a bit. He’d come disguised as Areon the bumbling fool to appear as non-threatening as possible but still competent enough to not be refused. He’d come to learn from the great champions and, as a bonus, he really did enjoy the charade.
And sure, he did have an eye on the prospect of checking out his famous six calaya daughters. Three of them had been children then. Still were. They were pretty little girls as much as he’d seen, but children nonetheless. The older three, however, had been close to their tournament age.
Meeting the girls to see if he should keep himself for one of them and avoid the tournaments was cheating, he knew that. And three years ago Areon had honestly been more excited about what the Overlord would come up with than the prizes themselves.
But then he met Violet.
She had messed something up. For a long while, Areon couldn’t say with certainty what it was exactly. Until he realized that the girl with honey blonde hair and that mischievous flash of violet in it had messed up his charade.
He was the Raider Prince. Had always been the Raider Prince. Long before the Atreens had learned of his name, long before he assembled his Raiders. But all of a sudden, he hadn’t minded being Areon. Sure, it was a gamble and a chore to remain a clumsy fool, but he’d made Violet laugh. And while he kept his true powers hidden, it was still him that she seemed to like. Her laugh and her smile had kept him in the Overlord’s service far, far longer than he’d planned. Weeks turned to months, months turned to almost a year. Violet was growing into a woman before his eyes. And he’d made the mistake of wanting more than he was allowed.
The fall hadn’t been an accident, not by a long shot. It had been as orchestrated and choreographed as his dangling from the nook the day before. All Areon had wanted was to be near her, just once. Foolish of him to think he could settle for only once. He’d understood right away that from that moment on he would always be hungry for more. Just once more.
He still couldn’t figure out if it had been the best or worst decision of his life. Mistakes had been made.
For once, he’d underestimated Violet’s cute little temper. Completely his fault. Calayas protected their purity, even if he didn’t truly lay a hand on her. Her furious snap had summoned more guards and, all of sudden, he’d been dragged to the Overlord.
Areon allowed it. He could have easily killed the guards (the Overlord might have been more of a task). He’d allowed it because of Violet. She had been so lovely in her insulted pride, but underneath he saw her concern burning like wildfire. Violet had pleaded for his life. It was a terrible crime to touch a calaya, but his reputation as a screw-up came to his aid. The Overlord with his eyes as cold as death relented and merely banished him.
That night, Areon had been dealt the most painful wound of his life. He’d hoped that Violet might consider his promise to return as a romantic gesture, but she was still hurt. There was no maybe in her words. She didn’t want him to come back. Even the fact that she was talking to his Areon-persona and not him didn’t truly quench the betrayal he’d felt.
Poor little Violet. She’d probably fallen for a nice guard who paid attention to her, who made her laugh, but Areon wasn’t worthy of a real calaya, the proud daughter of the Overlord.
Poor Violet indeed. In truth, she’d broken the heart of the mercenary prince she’d considered worthier of her hand. He felt bad for her. Such a clever girl surely knew not to provoke monsters face to face, but it was fine to drive away the guard.
The Raider Prince, however, was not someone to forgive and forget. Violet had a chance – but just one – to make up for her younger self, or she’d learn what happens to young girls who break the hearts of murderous bastards.
***
The morning light was now quite insistently getting in his eyes. Soon, he’d have to get down from the pillar or literally drop on someone’s head. That would be a difficult thing to explain away.
Besides, he thought he’d gotten a fairly good idea of what the Overlord had in store for them.
And I have to see what my beloved competitors are up to.
With careful, practiced ease, Areon lowered himself over the pillar top. The hidden armor purred as he did so, adjusting to the movements of his body. Hiding in plain sight had its dangers, but he thrived on it.
The drop was quite something, as was the fact he simply hadn’t rolled over the edge in his sleep. In fact, it had happened before when he’d practiced sleeping on a bedding roughly his own size. Many times he’d woken up free-falling, only to grin at the prospect of staring death in the eye. Mostly, it was in the form of the ground coming up fast to greet him. There had been bruises and broken bones and cracked ribs to reward his foolhardiness.
It had all been worth it, since apparently now he could do it without concern. Even with everyone ruling him out as the potential Prince, Areon didn’t really trust anything to chance. It was better to not get murdered in his sleep. What a disappointingly sad ending to his life that would have been!
He went down the same way he’d gone up. The gloves and boots he wore had claws implanted in their reinforced edges. It meant he could climb like a wild animal up a tree, but like all great things, it didn’t come without risk. It was effective, but not foolproof. He had to be careful – another character trait usually not associated with him.
Once he got down, he hid the armor. The Overlord was surely going to check them before the arena. The armor was a bit too high-tech for Areon to afford.
Not to mention it had been stolen only a month before – by the Raider Prince.
He took a moment to become Areon again. It was easier when he thought of Violet. At once, the usual emotions rose within him. Desire, lust for her supple body begging to be touched at last. Properly, with his hands and his tongue. With his whole body, really. And love, he supposed. No one went to such lengths to have someone they didn’t love. All overshadowed by the still-lingering burning hot flash of betrayal. It had a tedious way of always coming up on top.
Safely Areon again, he made his way to the practice areas.
Everyone was already there. He ignored the urge to kill when he saw Grom standing grimly on one side, talking to Forial, or rather being talked to by Forial. After overhearing the conversation Areon had no doubt what the topic was.
Sorry, Violet. Sorry, Pearl. I’m afraid I’m the star of this ball.
He exchanged a look with Reim, who, unlike him, was a morning person. His second-in-command had once pointed out that Areon could sleep through a siege.
Naturally, he’d taken it as a challenge. Both because he wished to see if he could and because infuriating Reim was his favorite pastime. He’d succeeded. Reim had been delightfully outraged with him.
Marelle, huh? he thought. Indeed. We better get you a girl too. The Overl
ord will flip.
Enough of them for now. Where was the real lover-boy?
A quick look around the area proved what he’d already suspected. Ronay was standing away from the others, as he had the day before. His wide shoulders were hunched, thick arms crossed over his chest. The warrior’s shoulder-length light brown hair was properly braided behind his neck, as to not hinder his vision in any way. His head was lowered in deep contemplation and concentration.
A man on a mission, Areon thought, making his way to him, doing his best not to draw any attention. I relate. I wonder if that is why I sympathize.
“Morning,” he said.
Ronay’s head snapped up. He had deep, sharp green eyes. His gaze was piercing, looking Areon over from head to toe. Intelligence and curiosity reflected in his solemn posture. A warrior with a head on his shoulders – not bad. Maige had taste.
“I remember you,” the warrior said. His tone was interested, but irritated.
I broke his pre-fight meditation or something. Oh boy, if you still need that, it’s going to be a rough day for you. A warrior goes from lounging to fighting in a heartbeat.
“You are the lucky bastard who caught the only nook on the wall on your way down. I’d say quit while you still breathe,” Ronay went on.
Aw, c’mon, what about my…
“But you made it quite far before.”
Hey. I like you. You notice things. Let me share some observations with you as well, then.
“I can’t quit,” Areon said. “Breathing or not.”
“Why not?” Ronay asked, shrugging. “No one compels you to be here.”
“No one forces you either,” Areon replied.
Ronay gave him a curious look. Then he nodded, understanding. “I wish you luck then,” he said. “If it isn’t Maige you are after.”
“She’s all yours.”
When Ronay gave a small growl, Areon laughed lightly. “I meant that in the best way possible. She’s very worthy. I just have my heart set on another.”
The warrior backed down at that. There was something endearing in his single-minded simplicity, so Areon didn’t hesitate further. “I know what’s coming.”
Ronay’s eyes went wide, then suspicious.
“How?” he asked, looking around to see if they were overheard. Or possibly searching for a trap? Clever lad, that one.
“I used to be a guard for the Overlord. Made some friends. They owe me a few favors.”
“And they actually told you? I thought the Overlord had a stronger hold.”
Areon made himself laugh at that. “He does, trust me, I managed to upset him once or twice,” he said. “I think they thought me safe to tell because they believe I’ll die anyway. That way, they could repay me and give me a chance without doing much damage.”
Ronay measured Areon again. There was no way to hide his bulk, as impressive as that was. Areon had gotten quite good at masking his strength in favor of that, giving the effortless grace of his body a rough edge. It was very important he wasn’t viewed as a threat, or as a serious contender. Until it was too late.
“I can believe that,” Ronay said at last. “No offense.”
“None taken,” the Raider Prince smiled. “As it is, I would suggest you find some way to protect yourself from the gnaour.”
Ronay’s mouth practically dropped open. “The gnaour? On the arena? That’s a death sentence!”
“It’s the Overlord. He promised he wouldn’t make it easy for us. Do you have an antidote for their venom?”
The other warrior nodded. “Yes. Luckily. I’ll take it right away, but even then... a hit too close to the heart and it’s done.” He looked at Areon for a long moment. “I appreciate it, though I doubt your friends intended the advice to reach me.”
“They’ll live,” Areon said. “I don’t doubt for a moment Forial knows more than I do, so how’s that for fair?”
Now Ronay laughed despite the terrible danger they were in. He had a pleasant voice, under the roughness of his obvious anxiety. “Yes. Good to hear I am not the only one who saw him escape too easily yesterday. You know, I’m starting to think you’re not so hopeless after all.”
Careful now.
“Come what may, I’m thankful for your help. Really. I wouldn’t accept this, but I’ll take any advantage I can get, for Maige. With Forial and Grom and the Prince god-knows-where, it’s only fair as you said. Anything else your friends might have told you?”
“Not really,” Areon admitted. “All I know – all I guess – is that the gnaour won’t be the only ones trying to kill us.”
Ronay nodded, agreeing. “No. I don’t suppose they will.”
The great gong calling them to the arena sounded overhead. Areon saw the warriors around him wake up. Eyes that were almost bored the moment before now flashed with emotion. Another day – another trial. With the calayas watching and the Overlord trying his best to make them give their all, as he’d said. That much of his speech was true at least.
Areon looked at the men slowly making their way to the arena that called for them. He didn’t doubt for a moment there would be less of them coming out. The first day had been a trick only the Overlord might have found funny. Now the games were over and the true tournament was ready to begin.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Overlord seemed to be in a good mood, which was never a good sign and with the tournament going on, doubly so.
Violet was now properly seated with the rest of the calayas on the podium next to the arena. After the surprises and shocks of the first day, Atreens wanted something simple and understandable, so did the girls and their parents. Pearl had relayed to them that her father, the famous champion Rumeon, had personally spoken to the Overlord. Pearl added in a distasteful tone that the Overlord had approved the trial of the first day, but wanted to make sure no more tests were in store for the calayas. Of course, after the day before, they didn’t trust a single word out of the Overlord’s mouth, but Irmela had said the same – no more for them.
That did not help.
“They really screwed us over,” Violet said when they sat down. The rest more or less agreed with her.
The Overlord had made the tournament real for them – a bit too real. Violet had not been thrilled about the prospect of watching champions die, but she had at least considered it a natural part of life. Now they were a bit too attached to the warriors, they’d fought for them. She wondered if that possibility had come up in the Overlord’s schemes. Violet truly felt the first day majorly backfired.
Only Maige had been worried before, but now they all were.
***
The grand arena was enormous. They had been too confused and excited on the first day to notice that the other edge was barely visible. The second day would bring something worth seeing, that much was obvious from the screens. Right now it was switching between the calayas, the champions and the Overlord.
The arena was suspiciously empty. Stacks of crates, a few chains that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned up from the spider web and so on. Violet was certain it was meant to look like that, like it was half-finished.
The champions were standing in a rough circle on the ledge around the arena a little off the ground. They were all stripped to their waist and wearing matching long pants. To the calayas, who had never been touched by a man – Violet winced at the memory – it had to have been quite a sight. She and the other prizes had been quite sullen in the morning, but now they came alive. It was difficult to tear her eyes away from the champions, but Violet saw they were all staring, mouth open, practically drooling.
It was no wonder. In the heat of the day, they glistened in the sweat of the practice fights, their tall, broad and heavily muscled bodies lined up for hungry gazes.
You promised no more tests for us, Violet thought, half-joking. In truth, her body longed to run up to them and rub itself against a hard, powerful chest. She wouldn’t have minded a pair of strong, ripped arms around her either.
> Like Areon three years ago, on top of you, hot and…
Violet dearly wished she could glare menacingly at her own inner voice. Shut up, she told herself.
In turn, the warriors looked at them. As Violet longed to be in a sure, firm embrace, the wish to hold her there was reflected in many gazes. She shuddered – soon it would actually happen.
The Overlord decided then that the moment had lasted long enough. He stood at his own podium, where he and Irmela looked over the whole tournament.
“I will make this short,” he said. Violet shuddered again, this time from fear. She knew her father – he hadn’t come by his title by accident. The tournament in hand was the biggest one yet. With seven calayas to be won, he wasn’t going to be as merciful as he seemed on the first day.
“The first trial was essentially a trick,” the Overlord said. “But it showed a lot. It was a test of skill and attention, which some of you passed. It was also a chance for the calayas to show their true selves. Now you know them and you should know yourself.”
His voice lost all warmth as he went on. “I hope the smartest of you have already understood this, but for those of you who haven’t, I will put it simply. I did not joke yesterday. If you want to have one of the prizes, you will have to give up everything and you will be forced to surrender. Some tournaments are won by luck and some by chance, this one will be won by only those worthy enough.”
He gestured to the many doors on ground floor of the arena. Violet wondered what was behind them, but in truth she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. The Overlord was scaring her.
“It’s traditional to give the champions a chance to quit anytime, but the parents of the calayas agree – that is too easy.”
A buzz went through the audience. Violet felt her hands shaking – so much for simplicity then.
The Overlord continued. “You will have two trials today. The lone goal of the first is to survive. You only get two chances to quit. One is when the next trial begins and the calayas are free to give their favor after seeing you fight for real. The other is now.”