Page 4 of The Crimson Princess
“It comes to you as naturally as does a lift of a finger. And her parents should have trained her to control her emotions. Emotions kill.”
“She’s young,tooyoung,” Satima argues. “And if she competes, I should be competing as well.”
He catches her arms and kneels in front of her, his jaw hard, his grip obviously firm. “You are not like her. You are the future queen. And the book did not name you to compete. Therefore, you will not compete. We follow its guidance or there are consequences.”
“Killian,” I snap, but he ignores me. Of course, he ignores me.
“Your duty is to protect our gales,” he continues, “and if you die over a portal, you can’t do that.”
“If I’m too weak to protect a portal, I will never face an enemy as powerful as Macklemore and win.”
Surprise at her boldness steals my breath and I know my daughter’s childhood ends today, and while it’s not what I want, I believe it’s exactly what Killian demands. He might even want Raven to fall, because I know him, and he believes pain breeds strength.
“You train for your throne and your duty,” he instructs her, and pushes to his feet, turning her toward the car. “Let’s go.”
She digs her heels in, a silent stubbornness radiating from her, defiance knotted in her shoulders. The crackle of Killian’s temper lances the air, hot with the promise of punishment. I draw in a heavy breath and will Satima to remember what I have taught herand accept that her convictions sit with her on the throne with her rule.
Finally, with a glance in her father’s direction, Satima charges toward the car and with biting relief, I follow, ensuring I claim the seat next to my daughter, but Killian is closing in on my heels. A guard seals us inside the vehicle, and while the sunlight glints yellow and orange, there is nothing but darkness and silence between us. Satima doesn’t lean on me as she often does. She doesn’t chat about what is to come. She knows. Death is what comes next.
Chapter three
Theonlyportallocatedin this realm sits in the center of Guardian Stadium, which was named after the many guardians who’ve died protecting the portals, as well as the eight living guardians who serve at present. Billed as a celebration of life, the Challenge is treated much like a musical concert, with a mix of excitement and anticipation, but what few talk about is the undertone of dread humming through our gales. Despite all precautions to avoid it, death will find us this day. Thousands upon thousands will be in attendance, some out of morbid fascination, others out of fear for our future, and some simply to hang on the thread of their loved one’s future.
Our limo arrives at the enormous facility and halts outside a private entrance while the general population lines up at the main entrance. The competitors would have arrived hours ago to be pampered, fed, and massaged with magical oil to loosen their minds and bodies. The empath in me melds with my magic, and I can feel them even from here—their nerves, their fear. The curl of Satima’s fingers on her leg has me wondering if she, too, is developing such a skill, but it is an observation for later. Already, the door opens, and Killian exits first, offering me his hand, which I do not dare deny in public. I am still the queen, and there are expectations and standards of behavior I must follow for the good of the people. Satima follows us out, her energy sharp-edged and jittering about, even if her expression remains regal.
We enter the building directly into a narrow hallway, where we follow a winding path toward the royal booth. We’ll be thefinal gales to enter into the Challenge. Back in the day, it would have been the Council of Seven, but they shelter themselves from the gales these days, choosing a role behind the scenes. From the grumblings of my husband these days, they mostly make ruling difficult for him, and since their names are carved in the Royal Stone, just as his is, there’s no ridding him of their input. They are a curious part of our government, installed by our original King Lares, with good intentions I assume. He wanted their help to govern, Killian has asserted. But they don’t seem to have any real control or input with Killian. And yet, the stone with their names etched upon it, says there is more to their role, that we the gales, even me as queen, do not know.
A rather long walk later, the three of us are seated practically on top of the action, flush with the arena. Guardian Stadium reminds me of the battles of old Rome in the human history books, but with the gift of magic to deliver modern luxuries such as leather seats for the comfort of the views. Air conditioning masks the heat of a brutal battle and the scorching summer day enveloping the building.
We’re not protected here in our booth, a setup meant to remind our people that the Book of Life protects us—or at least King Killian. Satima and I are not mentioned in the book, or at least not that Killian has ever told me. If one thing goes wrong, Satima could be injured, and the mother in me is on alert, ready to defend her.
Ready for battle.
I count the only three healers amongst us at various locations around the arena—all of the highborn class and magic, in sweeping emerald green robes—but I am not comforted by their presence. Of the three, only two are highly skilled, while the third is an apprentice not yet in touch with his skills. Healers were once plentiful, and then the civil war erupted in the aftermath of Macklemore’s attacks. It wasn’t enough to end him, we had to live in the chaos he’d created. Our enemies back then were smart enough to target those who could make us whole again.
Music begins to play, and the lights dim. Magical glow sticks illuminate the towering walls, activated only by the magic of those holding them. TheSong of Ravengalebegins, and the room hums with the voices of thousands of proud gales. When the tribute ends, the lights flash back on, and our most decorated warrior, Davin Hurth, is standing center arena, adorned in his battle uniform.
The crowd erupts, and with good reason.
Not only is Davin tall and broad with blond good looks, and our most eligible bachelor, he is a legendary war hero, his battlefield skills well tested. With a microphone in hand, he starts to speak, firing up the crowd. There are shouts and whistles, and soon what must be a hundred recruits file into the arena—a mix of males and females despite the fact that no man has yet to be named a guardian and no one knows why this is the book’s will.
The competitors line up in rows of twenty, all standing at attention.
A magical scoreboard is illuminated on the wall to my right, on it an image of the towering Guardian Stone that stretches as high as eternity. The audience will watch in real time as names are carved into the stone, a total of forty spots open. Eight guardians and thirty-two shadows. The competition ends when those spots are filled.
The lights dim again, and then the stadium is cast in abrupt darkness.
Killian leans over and kisses me, and then he’s gone, and I can feel the magic he uses to blink and appear center stage. A blink is a magical ability to travel in an instant, that royals, and random highborn possess. Everyone wishes to blink, but few will ever possess such a skill. I can blink, and I’m hopeful that one day, Satima will as well.
We’re blasted with light as the room glows again, and the crowd is once again wild with excitement at the sight of their king. Despite my anger at Killian, pride fills me with the love his people feel for him,ourpeople feel for him. I love him, and so do they. If notfor King Killian, we would not be here today, and neither would humankind. I reach over and squeeze Satima’s hand, and for just a moment, we smile at each other.
Killian launches into a speech that touches on life, death, and sacrifice, and my cheeks are damp when he is done. I know this challenge is necessary, but I hate the way it’s become a source of both dread and relief for our gales. Killian ends with, “Challenge accepted.” The recruits who stand behind him repeat his words in unison, and then they turn and walk to rows of seats at the side of the arena where they will wait for their battle. Shields slide into place in front of the audience, and the ceiling parts.
Killian lifts his hands and folds his fingers into a fist, and the portal opens in the sky. With powerful magic, he creates a surgical crack in the portal opening. Allowing the Third World warrior, Osiris, who guards the portal on the other side to send his chosen collection of exiles and creatures from his world to torment our competitors. There are gasps throughout the arena as lightning strikes right in front of their king, and smoke and clouds swirl just outside the portal.
It’s time.
To the crowd’s surprised oohhhs and ahhhs, it’s not a female who steps forward as the first recruit to compete.
