Page 8 of The Eye of the Fifth
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes, I do,’ Rosary snapped fiercely. ‘Because you’re Kyraena fucking Daeiros. You do not lose. And no one could ever,eversee you as weak.’
Kyra’s eyes stung but she blinked the sensation away. ‘You’ve never used my full name before.’
‘I know you renounced the name… but that is who you were when you became Kyra Dae. Without Kyraena’s choices, Kyra Dae would have never been born. And thankfuckKyraena did have the good sense to run away from her pampered princess life, else Goddess knows who my best friend would have been then,’ Rosary said with a smirk, then pointed to the corner of the room. ‘Likely a mouse.’
Kyra groaned. ‘This place is such a shithole.’
‘It is,’ Rosary said. ‘You know… you could get out.’
Kyra flung herself back onto the bed. ‘Not this again.’
‘Let’s get out of Avaldale,’ Rosary begged earnestly. ‘Please.We could get out of the city and start over somewhere. Somewhere by the coast… like Taru! You wouldn’t have to fight, I wouldn’t have to steal-’
‘What the fuck would we do in Taru, Rose? What skills do we have collectively that would allow us to live an honourable life?’
‘We don’t have to have it all figured out right now-’
‘Rose,please,’Kyra said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I can’t leave. You know I can’t break my contract with Lilion. She’ll chase me across the entire world before she lets me get away with slighting her like that.’
‘There’s something about her, Ky, something that makes my skin crawl-’
Wearily, Kyra said, ‘I know, Rose, I know.’
Time and time again they’d had the same, exhausting conversation, and every single time it ended the same way, followed by a tense silence. Kyra munched her way through a box of decadent chocolates Rosary had bought with her (stolen, no doubt), and tried not to imagine that desirable life outside of Avaldale. Once, she’d imagined a life outside of the ridiculous manor house she’d grown up in. That wondering led her here. Bound to Lilion, killing for a living.
It also led her to Rose.
No more was said on the matter that night. At some point, Rosary fell asleep with her hand still clasped around her goblet. Kyra returned it safely to the table, careful not to disturb her slumbering friend, and waited awake for the sun to rise. An hour later, its rays streaked through the grimy window, and even that early morning light warmed the dank little room. Content that she’d seen at least one more sunrise before the impending fight, Kyra snuggled down next to a now-snoring Rosary and finally succumbed to sleep.
???
The pits were eerily quiet, the usual excited chatter little more than hissing whispers in Kyra’s ears. It was as though no one wanted to speak until they saw the rumoured fae male in the flesh with their own eyes. Kyra’s trusted dagger had been thoroughly cleaned and sharpened, and sat impatiently waiting for blood in its sheath. Her hand absent-mindedly grazed over the worn leather every now and then, just to make sure it was still there.
The moderator’s voice rose above the crowd, amplified by magic, and the whispers immediately fell to silence.
His words turned to mulch in Kyra’s ears.
Glaring through the barred gates to the arena, she waited. Chin dipped, feet planted and shoulders pulled back, she breathed, focusing on the air that filled her body. Five deep and slow breaths into her belly; a technique Rosary had taught her years ago. It had never failed her.
Today would not be the day that it did.
The gates clanged open, and despite her breathwork, Kyra’s heart leapt into her throat. The moderator must have introduced her because the arena was suddenly filled with howls and repetitive chants of ‘Dae!’
She stepped into the light, the smile on her face not entirely forced as she glared up at the front of the stalls where Lilion always sat. A queen overlooking her empire.
Lilion’s polite smile quickly faded to a displeased sneer as she beheld the long line of red paint from the top of Kyra’s head, all the way to the centre of her breasts. Her ancestors had once worn such decorations on their bodies in war.
Rich, smudged kohl lined her eyes, red stained her lips the colour of blood, and her dark, wild hair was twisted and pinned like woven snakes. She’d pulled that tight, lifeless braid from her hair as soon as Lilion’s servant had left her chamber. Now, the arch of her ears were clearly visible. Something that Lilion had always tried to hide, as if she could painstakingly make her patrons forget that her beloved champion was fae.
She would receive a scolding, or worse, from Lilion for such a public display of defiance.
If she were to survive this fight.
Kyra looked to her left, to where she knew Rosary always sat at the back of the auditorium with a goblet of wine in hand, to find her beaming from ear to ear.
And with that smile, Kyra was ready.
