Tainted

Chapter Five

Cheers rise as the crowd sees me walk out into the arena. It's an amphitheater with half the stadium's seats long since crumbled. The seats that do remain cast long, splintering shadows over an oval-shaped stone floor, high marble arches rising up behind. They were once decorated with carved animals and faces, but the carvings have since worn clean away.

Alani once told me the dueling arena was an enclosed garden during the time of Eléftheros. She said rivers of clear water used to run between pockets of lush grass and many-petaled flowers. It's hard to imagine anything now but rivers of blood sinking into the dry, cracked stone. And the only flowers left stand in boxes along the stadium-seating; richly-smelling lilacs and roses to take away the scent of death.

I glance at the crowd, not wanting to look anyone directly in the eyes. Some faces I recognize from previous exhibitions, and I don't want to see the bloodlust that's brought them back.

A fine fishing wire mesh used to hang before the audience—a protection against long-range weapons—but it's been removed. I can see the nobles more clearly. Their gems glitter in the sunlight.

I used to be fascinated by the nobles. I would stare open-mouthed at the rich fabrics shimmering from their shoulders and the coin purses sitting fat in their fingertips. But now the nobles of the audience all bleed together. Every head is just as elaborately decorated as the next.

Haunting strains of music flow from instruments clustered in the far corner of the stands. There's a small set of drums, two lutes, and a large stringed instrument that plays a deep, background thrum. Nobles munch on popped corn and peanuts as they eagerly await my opponent's entrance. Some hold tiny banners on posts—likenesses of both my and Triane's faces. They must have been told about the change in the line-up before they came; Triane and my duel wasn't decided until yesterday.

A few of my banners look worn from being rolled up and unfurled time and time again as nobles come back to watch these prison duels. They have every other form of entertainment to consume, and yet they keep coming back here. I think it's a reassurance for them, a knowledge that even if their life isn't going the way they'd like, at least they're not one of us. Or maybe they simply come here to preen and be seen by the king. Or maybe both.

The king used to come to the prison only for Moon Day duels, but he's been coming more frequently. Though I hate that I look, I always seek him out in the crowd. There's a part of me still desperately holding onto the childlike hope that if I do well, he'll let me go home. It hasn't happened yet, but I can't give up. I have to keep trying.

But the king isn't here today, so I have to focus on impressing the warden. He's the next best thing. I step toward the crowd and pull my lips across my teeth while lowering my eyelids. I've practiced this look in the puddles of water I pass in the dungeons, molding my small, pale face into something seductive. It makes me feel ridiculous, but the audience whistles every time. And if the audience is happy, then maybe the warden will be happy.

As if sensing my thoughts, the warden's head snaps to mine. His skin is nearly as yellow as his teeth and just as pockmarked, making him look equal parts sinister and sickly. He's standing in his special box in the dead center of the audience. It's framed on all four sides by a thick, stone banister, two guards standing stoically against the back. Alani is beside him, as is Triane's patron. Alani looks regal, with her long, blond hair held in place with intricate braids, and the silver thread sewn into her lavender dress twinkling against the sun. Triane's patron keeps looking at Alani out of the corner of his eyes, his hands folded over his bulging green velvet waistcoat.

Warden sneers at me, and my bubble of hope cracks. Warden straightens his spine and raises his arms, his black cape looking like tucked wings beneath his arms. At that, the crowd grows quiet. There's an anticipatory hush as the arena's opposite gate begins to creep open. The nobles turn as one to watch, their necks swiveling together like a many-headed beast.