Page 47 of Cursed By Gold

"Did you know they were going to pry into our lives like that?" I ask Rose and Darius, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. "I thought this was supposed to be about our combat skills, not parading our secrets before the entire kingdom!"

Rose shrugs, though I detect a flicker of discomfort. "Clearly the king wants to put on a real spectacle. Get the people invested in more than just our fighting prowess."

Darius gives me a sympathetic look. "I can't imagine it's easy having such personal matters dragged into the light like that. But look at it this way - now you have a chance to control the narrative on your own terms."

Before I can respond, a palace attendant approaches us. "Competitors, please return to your quarters and change into your training attire. You are to meet outside the main hall in one hour," she instructs crisply before turning on her heel and striding away.

"You're not actually considering marrying that asshat Greystone, are you?" Rose asks with a derisive snort as we head back to our rooms.

I shoot her a withering look. "Of course not! My stepmother is the one forcing this engagement for her own gain. I won't be a pawn in her games."

Darius shakes his head. "If the king allows this invasion of our privacy to continue, the entire tournament will become more of a circus act than a test of martial skill."

"Exactly!" I exclaim. "We are here to compete, not have our lives put on display like animals in a menagerie!" The thought of Lord Greystone watching me with his lecherous gaze sickens me to my core.

Rose raises an eyebrow at me, a silent challenge passing between us. Darius simply shrugs good-naturedly.

An hour later, ornate carriages arrive to transport us. To where, I have no idea. No one will tell us anything. As someone who rarely does anything without knowing the route, alternate routes and back up plans this is only putting me even more on edge.

As our carriage jostles into motion, I gaze out the window, my fingers unconsciously tracing the hilts of my daggers tucked at my waist.

Rose seems to sense my discomfort, arching an eyebrow at me. "Relax, Scarlet. The people crave spectacle - play to their fancies and they'll be eating out of your hand," she remarks smoothly. As one of the Thieves' Guild's envoys often tasked with public-facing roles, she is far more at ease with the spotlight than I.

I frown, unconvinced. The crowds thronging the streets seem thicker than usual, scores of people all headed in the same direction as us. "And if I have no taste for being a sideshow act?"

Darius chuckles, unfazed by my irritation. "A true warrior doesn't shy away from spectacle. Embrace it, and you might even find you enjoy the roar of the crowd." He winks mischievously.

If only he knew, I’m no warrior. I’m a thief and we are trained to work around and bend if not break the rules.

As our carriage finally draws through the palace gates, the opulent vehicle slows to a halt. I steel myself before getting out, determined not to betray my awe. But as I catch my first glimpse of our grand new stage, I can't help but gape - a colossal stone arena looming ahead, its towering walls etched with intricate carvings depicting epic battles of ages past.

Awestruck, I take in the sheer, breathtaking scale of the structure, my breath catching in my throat. This is no mere training ground - this is a spectacle fit for legends. As we approach the gaping entrance, the guards part ranks to reveal King Remme himself, resplendent in his royal attire.

He surveys us with a measured gaze, his expression inscrutable. "Esteemed competitors," he begins, his voice carrying across the hushed crowd, "welcome to the true trials of skill and endurance. This arena will be your proving ground."

His eyes seem to linger on me for a moment before sweeping over the others. "From this day forth, your abilities will be ondisplay not just for my scrutiny, but for all the kingdom to witness. The people will be permitted to fill these stands, to cheer for their champions and offer gifts to aid you in your quest."

A murmur of surprise ripples through the competitors at this pronouncement. The king raises a hand, commanding silence once more.

"Indeed, this tournament shall serve a greater purpose. The funds raised from these spectacles will be divided—the victor shall claim not just the Bodian Crown, but a share of the monetary rewards proportional to their performance. The remainder shall be distributed to aid those in need across my lands."

My mind races at the implications. Hearing the journalist mention it was one thing. Actually hearing it from the king is different entirely. Not only will our skills be tested before a crowd, but their favor—and wealth—could sway the outcome. Numbers run through my head. If I can play this right and win, I won't only get paid out for collecting the Bodian Crown but also the extra money that’s now been added to the prize could last me years if I played my cards right.

I glance at Rose, wondering if she grasps the full significance of this development. Her face is enraptured with a mix of calculation and intrigue.

King Remme's gaze finds me once more, and I could swear I see a glimmer of...something in his eyes. A challenge? An invitation? "Use your time here wisely," he says, his voice low yet carrying an undercurrent of steel. "For the arena will reveal the true measure of your character, as surely as it exposes your abilities."

With that cryptic pronouncement, he sweeps away, leaving us to contemplate the trials ahead and the eyes of the kingdom upon us.

"You heard His Majesty," one of the king's guards barks out. "The stands are open to receive spectators. This is your first chance to show your worth and gain supporters." His steely gaze rakes over us, daring any to protest.

The immense scale of the arena leaves me awestruck as we enter through the towering archway. The smooth stone floor extends before us like a grand stage, surrounded by soaring tiers of curved seating ascending majestically towards the heavens.

My gaze is instantly drawn to the lavish private viewing boxes dotting the higher levels, already occupied by finely dressed nobility appraising us like prize livestock

Fitting considering among them is Lord Greystone lounging arrogantly in one of the lavish private boxes, no doubt poised to leer and mock from his lofty perch when he gets wind of my defiance. Just imagining the smug look being wiped off that pompous face when he finds out I denounce our engagement brings a vindicated smirk to my lips. Let him choke on his wounded pride when this so-called "future wife" rebuffs him before the entire kingdom. I'm no wilting noble's daughter to be brow-beaten into submission anymore.

Greystone isn't the only set of eyes boring into me from on high. Movement from the largest, most opulent box catches my eye as King Remme himself emerges, commanding presence flanked by his intimidating honor guard. As if sensing my scrutiny, the king's piercing stare finds and holds me amidst the sea of competitors. I meet it unflinchingly, refusing to be the one who looks away first in this silent clash of wills.

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