Page 81 of Of Songs and Silence

Cepheus senses it too—how all of his power is slipping away right in front of him. That is undoubtedly the only reason why he swims down to meet me in the center of the arena.

Once he forced me into the games, his plans became all the more transparent.

This competition was never just about Melodi. Sure he wanted someone strong on the throne, he needs an heir. But his methods also conveniently took out the rival households, further eliminating the power of his people. Giving them false hope, while in truth just strengthening his chokehold on them.

But I am done playing his games.

I still feel the ghost of his punishing grip on Melodi’s throat, and the grief that flooded our bond as she watched Napo struggle to stay alive. It was the fuel I needed to push past the final leg of the battle, and the only reason I could bring myself to kill Nino.

I remind myself that there will be time to mourn the dead later, once I have added one final addition to their numbers.

“How very bold of you, Commander Ariihau,” Cepheus says, taking his position right in front of me. “I suppose it will be better this way, killing you now before you sully the royal line even more than you already have.”

I snarl.

“For too long, you have oppressed your people. For too long you have spilled our blood,” I say, projecting the thought loudly to the crowd.

Perhaps they didn’t join the rebellion. Perhaps the entire rebellion is dead. But that doesn’t mean that the Mayima don’t want an end to this tyranny any less than Lani did. Jopali. Nino.

Only one more person needs to die for this cause.

“That ends today, Cepheus,” I continue. “It ends when we celebrate your final breath, and we rid the ocean of your tainted soul.”

Cepheus is feral.

He signals for the guards to fit him with armor and bring his weapons. They hesitate briefly before obeying, and I wonder if it’s his order they’re unsure of, or the giant dragon that is still circling us.

From the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Melodi pulling the body of my cousin into the royal box. She ushers one of the servants over from the crowd, and they work on unbinding his hands and feet.

I send my thanks through the bond and feel her reassurance in return.

Cepheus doesn’t give a warning before lunging for me. As soon as his armor is in place, he’s all but shoving his guards away, charging forward like a bull shark. My muscles are strained, but adrenaline and fury keep me moving. I raise my trident just in time to block his. The impact is enough to rattle my bones, causing my arms to shake.

He rains down blow after blow with a relentless fury. The king is strong. He may use his warriors and a dragon to fight his battles when he wants to, but the rapid-fire way he’s fending off these attacks is just one more reminder of how he has gotten away with his abuse of power for so long.

Only the king’s heirs can challenge him, but he had many, each of them stronger than the last. And he bested every one.

He comes at me in a flurry of movements, swimming over and under me, circling me. The crowd has broken its self-imposed silence. Low murmurs and whispers drift down from the seats above us, just loud enough for me to make out the general ideas.

They talk of the end of Cepheus’ reign, of possibilities for the future. They speak of hope, in a way I have never witnessed before.

Better yet, Cepheus hears them. His rage only spurs him to fight harder, though, for his pride and for his power—the only two things he has any real love for. His face contorts and twists in fury as he slices through the water again and again.

Minute after exhausting minute passes until I lose track of how long we’ve been fighting. The king fights with the renewed energy of someone who has been resting, waiting. Bracing himself for this very moment.

But I am bone-weary. The blood on my hands is weighing me down, and each strike rings more true than the last. It’s becoming harder and harder to block, and he lands a blow against my ribcage, then my calf. My back. My arm.

I am flagging, and he knows it.

He gives me a vicious smirk when the spikes of his trident rake over my shoulder. Blood pours from the black lines of my inked skin. I barely fend off the next attack as I spin through the water, twisting through the arena like a fish on a line.

All the while, the dragon continues her frantic circling. Her eyes are wide, locked onto each of our movements.

Cepheus grins more broadly, his eyes narrowing on me like he’s already won. And maybe he has.

Maybe I spoke too soon. I shouldn’t have challenged him. Not yet, at least. I should have waited. I should have spoken with Melodi, made a plan.

My thoughts are a maelstrom of my mistakes, pain muddling the world around me until all I see is everything I should have done differently. Worst of all is that Kala feels this, too. Will she feel it when I go?

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