Page 9 of The Eye of the Fifth
She unsheathed her dagger, flipped it into the air just for show, then waited.
The moderator lifted his hands from above the opposing gate where her challenger awaited, and the crowd fell quiet once more. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this will be the fight of the century… for the first time in the Arc’s history, our lone wolf fights one of her own!’
No one cheered. No one clapped. It was as though the whole arena had stopped breathing.
‘Some of you might recognise him…’ The moderator paused for effect, then added with a grin, ‘Though clothed, it might be more difficult.’
A few gasps scattered across the stagnant air, and some even giggled. Kyra gripped her blade tighter.
‘His name has been forgotten, but we at the Arc refer to him as The Bull.’
Bull.Why did that name sound familiar? Kyra wracked her brain for where she’d heard it before… then it hit her.
It was the name of a whore in the Arc’s brothel. A favourite pick of the attendees, so she’d come to understand. Kyra could only imagine how he got the name.
So Lilion had a male in slavery in her disgusting brothel, and was now using him in the pits? Nausea rose as dread coursed through her body.
‘Lords and Ladies, men and women… I give you The Wolf versus The Bull!’ The moderator shouted, practically gleefully.
Chains pulled by invisible hands lifted the iron gate, and The Bull stepped out, gripping a heavy two-handed sword. But he didn’t acknowledge the cheering crowd. Nor did he step more than a few paces before he stopped, tears rolling down his sunken cheeks as he stared at Kyra with familiar soft brown eyes that she had never forgotten.
Kyra fell to her knees.
Eleven years had passed since she had last seen her brother, and it appeared those years had been anything but kind to Oslan Daeiros. If it wasn’t for those eyes, he would have been unrecognisable in the tall and muscular frame he’d matured into. His once golden-brown skin like her own, was now grey-tinged and dull, as though sunlight had not touched him for an eternity.
Whispers slithered through her ears again. Taken by a sudden rage, Kyra flung her dagger with the intention of it embedding deep in Lilion’s skull.
She knew it would not meet its mark.
The blade bounced off the invisible ward that stood protecting the audience from wayward attacks and landed with a thud in the dust.
Lilion did not even flinch.
Then Kyra ran, ignoring the continued whispers and gasps, damning them all to the Void and not stopping until she was in front of her brother, her hands grasping his arms, his face, his neck, as if to be absolutely sure he was real.
Oslan’s sword clattered to the ground. ‘Kyra,’ he choked. ‘I told her I wouldn’t do it… I told her I wouldn’t fight you. But she’ll make me, she’ll make me…’
Kyra was barely listening. Her eyes were taking in the mess that was Oslan’s skin. Marred wrists, arms covered in burn marks, and a red raw cross scarred above his heart. The mark of slavery.
‘What has she done to you?’ Fury shook her, and suddenly she wished she had all the magic in the world so that she could rip down the protective ward and slash Lilion Perdy to pieces.
Oslan’s hands wrapped around her upper arms as those desperate brown eyes bore into hers. ‘You have to win, Ky. I can’t do it anymore. Please.’
With a jolt that made her insides coil with disgust, she realised what he was asking her to do.
‘LILION!’she screamed, turning toward the perpetrator.
A ringing began in her ears, and all she could see was Lilion. All she could hear was her own breath, high and uneven. Kyra watched Lilion’s mouth move, but the words she spoke were for her ears alone. As though she were standing right next to her, spewing shit into her ears. ‘Come now, little wolf. Don’t make a scene.’
‘You knew he was my brother.’
‘I did.’
Betrayal cut deep into Kyra’s soul. ‘How long have you known?’ she whispered, knowing her voice would carry with whatever magic Lilion was using.
‘Does it matter?’
Kyra raised her voice for all to hear. ‘I willnotfight him!’
