The afternoon suns beats down on my spine. I wipe a sweaty arm across my forehead and turn to look back at the score board.
There are four red-painted dots beside my title. Beneath that, there are four names crossed out in the same red paint. It drips like blood.
The arena itself is splattered with blood, both mine and my opponents. My feet are coated in it, as are my clothes.
The cloth I've ripped and strapped around my gaping shoulder is soaked through, and the cuts on my hands have reopened. There's a fresh cut on my calf from my third opponent, and at least one strand of stitches has been ripped from back, courtesy of opponent #4.
My head feels woozy, but I keep my feet planted firmly on the ground. The afternoon is already here. If I can just make it through another half day, then Alani will take me to the healer and I'll be able to sleep away the pain. Just one more half day.
"And what did you think of our Thief's disposal of the Welder? For working to craft weapons with which to defeat the king, she certainly didn't know how to handle her sword!" the warden says, and the audience laughs.
It's because you only supplied her with a blunt training sword, I think, careful not to nick my fingers on the sharp blades of my knives. The Welder was a prisoner I'd never seen. She must have come from the other dungeon.
"Now for the Thief's fifth duel," the warden says, holding up an open hand to emphasize five. "She will be battling someone very dear to her heart, but one who we've found has a dangerous past."
An audible buzz moves from one end of the stadium to the other as the nobles whisper amongst themselves, trying to figure out who my next opponent might be.
The warden nods. "Yes, yes, it's a shame, but we can't let this kind of criminal run rampant through Coravasi. Your children would not be safe."
A new banner flaps against the wall behind me. I ignore it.
"This criminal," Warden continues, "was discovered bribing soldiers for information about the king. Though her Fate may be hidden, we know her for what she truly is...The Extortioner!"
Each new opponent has seemed to have a crime tied to the king. I wonder how these duels are advertised throughout high society, and if the nobles know these stories ahead of time, or if they come here to learn why the Ill-Fated should be feared.
"Shall I bring out our Thief's next opponent?" Warden calls.
The crowd cheers in the affirmative.
Warden gives the signal, and the winch of the far arena door begins to creak open.
I watch as the heads of the audience turn as one to the far gate. I watch as their eyes widen in shock. I watch as the sun shines against the nobles' greasy foreheads, their heavy furs boiling them alive in the afternoon sun.
I turn slowly, letting go of my shoulder to palm my blade.
With the crowd to my back, all that stands before me against the wide expanse of crumbling stone wall, is my opponent.
She looks so small. Her hand almost quivers against the bow she's drawn tight to her cheek. There's already an arrow nocked against the fresh string, the steel tip trained directly over my heart.
I don't move. I don't even breathe.
No.
It can't be.
Binks.