Chapter 19

Ari

“ Y ou look magnificent, my child.” Mother stepped back, admiring me from a distance while the ladies of the court straightened the long train of my dress.

The archway of the entrance to the Games’ Arena protected us from the eyes of the crowd for now, but there was no escaping its noise. The entire city appeared to have come here this morning to greet the three princes who have traveled far and wide for a chance to become the future King Consort of Rorrim Queendom and my husband.

“Are you ready, Ari?” Mother came closer and placed a kiss on my forehead.

Behind her, Father smiled at me encouragingly.

I squinted at the bright light at the end of the walkway that led to the arena where the crowd waited for me. With the enormous number of people wishing to attend the official introduction of the three princes, the Games’ Arena had been chosen as the most suitable venue for today’s event.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I gave the queen an easy smile.

My nerves were under control. I might not have been born into this, but fate had brought me here for a reason. I’d studied and worked for years to be worthy of my place. Regardless of what I felt in my heart, in my mind I knew I could do it.

I’d earned my crown. I was the crown princess.

The queen took the hand of her king before going ahead of me down the walkway. Heralds announced the arrival of the royal couple. The crowd erupted in cheers. Music exploded, signaling the beginning of the festivities and my cue to head out too.

I straightened my back against the ribbed seams of the stiff bodice of my formal gown, rolled back my shoulders topped with a standing collar of golden lace, and walked toward the exit from the archway.

The sun blinded me as I left the shadows of the archway and stepped onto the crimson rug laid over the pristine white sand of the arena. The wave of cheers surged higher, and I lifted my face toward it, basking in sunshine and people’s admiration.

These were my people. My destiny was to lead them. It was that simple and that complex at the same time.

Holding my head up high, I walked along the rug across the arena toward the stairs on the other side. Stopping halfway, right in the middle of the sand-covered oval of the arena framed by the queen’s soldiers and royal gladiators, I raised my hand in a wave and slowly turned around to greet the crowd. From the left to the right, I twisted mostly only at the torso so as not to displace the carefully arranged train of silk and precious stones laid out behind me that stretched all the way back to the archway.

People shouted and clapped, waving back. From this distance, I couldn’t make out individual faces, but I was taking them all in, all the rows upon rows of people cheering and waving at me.

I vowed right then and there that I would never let them down. I’d live to be their queen and their champion.

I crossed the arena and ascended the stairs to the royal platform to take my seat next to my mother.

The circle of soldiers and gladiators moved, forming a procession. They filled the arena in neat rows. The soldiers wore the Royal Army uniforms with shiny buttons and wide epaulets. Their swords hung in sheaths over wide silk sashes crossing their chests. The high general, a proud, well-built woman, headed the procession on a tall black stallion.

The gladiators presented a less uniformed and more colorful sight. Their clothes represented the characters they assumed in the arena during the Games. Led by the games master, an energetic woman with shoulder-length dark curls held by a bright red hairband, the gladiators marched across the arena, holding up their weapons toward the royal platform in salutation.

My gaze slid along the long line of muscular men and stopped, caught on a tall figure that towered over the rest.

The top half of his face was concealed behind the lowered visor of his helmet, but I would recognize his beard out of a million. A thrill rushed along my skin at the memory of that beard gliding down my body to settle between my thighs.

Salas had accepted the offer. He had become one of the queen’s gladiators. Relief washed over me. He was here. He was safe. No longer did I have to stay awake at night wondering where he might be and whether he was well, fed, and rested.

As the procession of gladiators marched across the arena, displaying various formations for the amusement of the spectators, I couldn’t tear my attention from that one man.

It appeared the games master had already chosen a persona for him to play in the arena. She didn’t miss the opportunity provided by his exceptional height and size, dressing him in fur and leather like a wild man from the highest ridge of the Drazil Mountains. A full-size bear hide was draped over his wide shoulders, which must be torture to wear in this heat.

The rules on male modesty applied only loosely to the gladiators. Salas was wearing no shirt. His broad torso was covered only by the layer of his chest hair, which was uncannily almost the identical color as the bear hide on his shoulders. His crudely made helmet fit in with the overall savage look of his outfit. The helmet had been chosen wisely—with the visor over his face that kept him safe from being recognized by anyone from his past even if they happened to attend the Games.

With his visor down, I had no way of telling whether he saw me. He appeared to be looking straight ahead, focusing on executing the formations along with the others. But it didn’t matter. Right now, it was enough for me to see him safe and sound.

I watched him furtively, hoping my glasses hid my eyes enough for no one to notice. I saw his hand gripping the handle of the massive ax he carried on his shoulder, and I remembered those thick, strong fingers dancing on my body while I writhed in pleasure under him. I saw his biceps bulge under the bear hide and remembered how he carried me in his arms, the press of his body against mine so gentle and warm.

Salas might be safe. But I could never be safe from my feelings for him.

There he was.

The keeper of my secrets.

The giver of all my first.

The fallen man who made me fall too.

He made me question this world that before him I’d accepted with no reservations.

His soul had linked with mine in a connection I didn’t know how to break. My body ached for him. Ahead of me lay the torture of having him close without a chance of ever calling him mine.

Despite the heat of the late morning, chills ran down my arms as the gladiators left the area.

The heralds brought their long trumpets to their mouths, sounding the fanfare before the princes were finally announced.

I sat straighter. The dreams about hugs, and kisses, and caresses of a beard had to remain in the past. My future was with one of the three men entering the arena now.

The colorful crowd of richly dressed courtiers spilled into the arena. It had been decided to do the introduction of all three princes simultaneously, so as not to wound the pride of any one Queendom by arranging them into a line with the first and the last.

The three courts filled the arena, dividing it into three sectors. Three young men ascended the stairs to the platform where I sat with my parents. They greeted us before taking a knee in front of me.

The princes were young—still boys who’d barely crossed into manhood. I stared at the three heads bowed to me and wondered how I could build a connection with any one of them.

I decided to start from left to right.

“I trust your journey here was pleasant, Prince Leafar,” I addressed the blond head.

At the sound of his name, the prince looked up.

“It was filled with peril, Your Highness. But every bit of danger was worth seeing you now.”

I wondered what perils the prince could’ve encountered while traveling in his cushioned carriage across the border. Of the three of them, Prince Leafar’s journey was the shortest, since Olakrez Queendom was the closest to Rorrim. But I said nothing to question his claim.

“And you, Prince Nevar? Did you find your accommodations in Egami Palace to your liking?”

The head with long straight tresses lifted next. Sweat beaded on Prince Nevar’s pale brow. His outfit consisted of several layers, including the floor-length jacquard coat. The poor prince must be boiling alive in this heat, all for the sake of fashion and propriety.

Despite the heat, Prince Nevar’s voice rang strong when he replied, “The rooms assigned to me and my court stun us with their splendor, Your Highness, just like the rest of the magnificent palace of your highly esteemed mother, Queen Anna.”

With a nod and a smile, I rummaged through my endless collection of small talk topics to use next. All of them were safe and boring, meant to fill the air with sound and nothing more.

“How do you find the weather in Rorrim Queendom, Prince Elbon? We’re having one of the hottest summers of late.”

The prince on my right jerked his head up, too, flicking his numerous shoulder-length braids.

“The heat is often unbearable back in Tresed Queendom, Your Highness. It is a reprieve to escape it for a while. The weather in Rorrim is lovely in comparison.”

I nodded, acknowledging his reply.

Mother smiled warmly at them. “We have many festivities planned for the entire duration of your visits, dear princes. I trust you’ll enjoy your time in Rorrim.”

Her smile remained while the princes bowed and retreated to their respective handlers.

“So?” she asked the moment they were out of earshot. “What do you think? How are you feeling about them?”

I pondered her question.

My heart beat steadily. My breath remained even. There was no pull to any of the princes, no particular interest either, other than the normal curiosity about them as representatives of foreign lands.

I felt nothing. But Mother was looking at me, expecting an answer.

“They are... um, well-schooled.”

She nodded eagerly, as if I’d said a compliment.

“Yes, so well behaved. Excellent upbringing.” She patted my hand optimistically. “You’ll have plenty of time to get to know them better before making your decision.”

I had a few weeks before the princes’ scheduled departure. One of them would stay, and everyone expected me to decide which one that would be.

Were a few weeks enough time to make an important decision like that?

I didn’t know.

But I’d vowed to dedicate my life to Rorrim. The duty of the crown princess was to get married and ensure a direct succession, which in turn would ensure stability and prosperity in the country. So, marry I must.

As for the feelings...

They weren’t necessary, were they?