Tainted

Chapter Sixteen - Alani

"My fellow citizens of Coravasi," Alani says, projecting her voice. She tries to make eye contact with every noble before settling her gaze on the warden. His face is pinched, his lip curled. Alani addresses him.

"Your Thief, is dead."

The crowd erupts. They aren't so much cheering as shouting. Those who bet against Mira are laughing hysterically, while those whose coin was for Mira are distraught and angry.

Behind her, Alani can hear the sounds of the guards coming closer. They'll take Mira's body to the field behind the prison, and they'll burn it.

Alani turns. "Wrap her in the banner," she says, thinking quickly.

The guards pause. "But the warden—"

"I speak for the warden," Alani says icily. "Now wrap her in her banner. They will burn together, so that her face may never grace this prison again."

The guards hesitate, but change direction and walk toward the banners instead. Mira's is already lying in a heap on the ground—it was cut the moment Alani declared her dead.

The peal of the death toll can barely be heard over the sound of the crowd. The nobles clamber toward the warden and the king, and Alani knows she'll have only a few extra moments with Mira before the warden will come looking for her. He'll take him time placating the crowd. He thrives off their coin, and he'll want them leaving the arena happy.

Alani thinks. The guards will take Mira to the field, that's where they've taken the previous Ill-Fated who've died today. But they won't burn her until this evening. Warden's planned a ceremony for the occasion.

The guards drag the banner toward Mira. Alani watches as they wrap up her limp body in the banner. They don't bother to pull out the arrow.

Good. That will stop the flow of blood.

Alani counts her breaths by tapping her thumb nail against each of her fingertips. She won't have enough time to get to Gregor, she'll have to manage Mira all by herself. The crowd is still keeping Warden busy, but it won't be long before he gets irritated with them and steps away. And then he'll expect Alani to be in their room. He'll want to gloat, and he'll want Alani to listen.

The slain opponents' banners are jumbled together at the base of the back arena wall. Alani could grab those and carry them with her, following the guards out of the arena. She could say she's going to burn them along with the Ill-Fated this evening, but she could wrap Mira's body in them and take them to Gregor instead, as bandages. They wouldn't know if Mira's gone from the pyre or not.

Alani steps quickly backward and bundles up the banners. They're heavier than she expects. It will be difficult to carry both the banners and Mira at the same time, but Alani will have to manage. She'll have to.

Stealing herself, Alani follows the guards out of the arena and through the hallways toward the exit out to the back field. The halls are brightly-lit and Alani schools her features into something she hopes looks placid. She smiles and nods at the servants and guards they pass, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but as her heart hammers against her chest, she can't help but think how weakly Mira's is beating within her own.

Thick rugs deaden their steps as the guards wend through the service halls—they're not allowed to bring the bodies through the main part of the prison. The warden hates death. Yes, he puts on a show for the nobles, but the moment he's back in their room, he's scrubbing his hands at the wash basin until they're raw, as if death is a disease he might catch.

Two guards stand on either side of the doorway out into the field. Alani smiles at them. Their cheeks turn pink.

"We're here to deposit another body," she says.

The guard on the left widens his eyes. "But your grace, you don't need to be touching that, we are more than happy to assist you."

Alani tries not to flinch at the title. She bows her head demurely. "Yes, but you see, it's my contender who's passed. And I would like...I would like a moment with her, if that's alright."

The guards look to one another. Patrons don't normally make such a show over their contenders. Alani worries her lip.

Please still be alive, she prays, staring at the mass of banner. Mira's painted cheek is just visible beneath the guard's crooked arm.

"Of course, your grace. We apologize for your...ehm...loss." The guard pushes open the door and stands aside.

The two guards carrying Mira's body walk through first. Alani follows, her head still bowed. She watches from beneath her brows as the guards toss Mira onto the already-stacked pile.

Red stains blot Mira's banner. Alani opens and closes her fists. She needs to see if Mira's still breathing. She needs to see if too much of her blood has spilled.

The guards take an agonizingly long time to move. They pause at the door, looking back over their shoulder. Alani keeps herself as still as possible. Hushed voices are exchanged behind her, and a part of Alani wonders what stories they'll pass along to the warden.

She places a palm against her neck. Seeing to Mira is worth the warden's wrath. It's always been worth his anger and ridicule.

"Your grace," one guard says softly. Alani turns.

"Knock once to be let back in," the guard says, and he shuts the door.

Alani steps forward and peels the banner back from Mira's body. Mira's face is bloated and distorted. There's a hard, lifeless quality to it and Alani can feel a lump forming in her throat.

Please, she begs again, but she doesn't feel for a pulse. She works quickly, rolling Mira into the pile of banners intended for Gregor. The arrow is still in Mira's chest. The blood around it has hardened. Alani doesn't know if that's good or bad. Mira seems too pale for it to be good.

Mira's banner looks too flat. If the warden checks her presence before the burning, he'll know she's not there.

Sagen, the Welder, lies at the top of the pyre. Alani swaddles her body in the banner, guilt twisting her gut. At least now it looks like Mira's still here, and the warden won't want to touch the banner to check.

"Oh gods," Alani moans. She picks up the bundle of banners, supporting Mira's shoulders with one arm and her legs with the other. The banners are concealing enough, but what if Mira's hand falls out of the folds? What if the blood continues to seep through?

All of these thoughts make Alani's steps staggered and awkward. Mira and the banners are heavy and it weighs her down.

You can do this, Alani thinks to herself. You have to do this.

Alani kicks the door, once, and steps back. It swings open. The guard eyes the banners in Alani's hands.

"They're for the healer," Alani says, though her voice is high-pitched and tentative.

"Alright," the guard says. He lets Alani pass.

Was he unconvinced? I shouldn't have asked if I could spend some time with my contender, I should have just said I needed some time to collect the banners for the healer. They'll piece everything together. They'll find out Mira's not there, and then...then they'll come for her.

By the time Alani hobbles her way to the healer's room, she's worked herself into a panic.

"Alani," Gregor breathes, opening the door at her kicked knock.

Alani drops the wrapped Mira into Gregor's arms. A confused crease forms between his brows. He sets the bundle down on the table and pulls back the banner, exposing Mira's face.

Gregor gasps. He steps back from the table, fear running wild in his eyes.

"Alani, what have you done?" he asks.

Alani grabs his hands. "Save her," she says, shaking uncontrollably. "Save her."