Chapter Two

V elaria's entire body ached. Every part of her hurt, but she still had to fight again. After she'd been summoned, Kadir had killed every hope she'd had. He'd taught her a lesson in the truth she'd never wanted to face. She was only here to die. There would be no future for her except death.

He'd been toying with her, using her. Byzantine nobles had placed bids on her to become their concubine. She'd fought back viciously when they'd tried to touch her, and Kadir had ordered her beaten in front of them. She was fairly certain her ribs were bruised or broken.

This next fight would be her last. Kadir would pit her against someone physically stronger, someone brutal. And that would be the end.

It didn't matter what Savas had told her about Lord Staunton's plans to help them escape. She'd given up on every thought of freedom. It wasn't going to happen. Not any more.

She'd returned to the prison, her spirit broken. A part of her had desperately wanted to believe that someday they would get out. Now she knew the truth—it was over. She would die in two days.

‘Get up, Velaria.'

Savas's words were quiet but firm. She didn't want to move, not now. And so, she ignored his command.

‘I'm not letting you give up,' he said. ‘Not when we're so close.'

Once again, she acted as if she hadn't heard him. But this time, he reached down and lifted her to her feet. ‘You're training with me this day. I won't let you lie there and surrender.'

When she lifted her gaze, she saw fury in his eyes. Never before had he looked at her that way, but she flashed him her own defiance. ‘There's no reason to fight. Not any more.'

This time, he took her arm gently and led her away from the others to the corner of the prison. ‘Tell me what happened to you.'

‘No.' She had no intention of reliving that day. It was locked away deep inside her, a memory she would never think of again.

‘Why are you giving up?' he demanded. ‘Why, when we're so close?'

‘ You are close to escaping,' she corrected. ‘Not me. I'm going to die in that arena.'

‘You won't die if you continue fighting.'

But she didn't believe him. Her body was bruised and swollen from the beatings she'd endured. She couldn't imagine one more fight.

‘I can't,' she confessed. ‘And it doesn't matter anyway. Even if I win the fight, he'll have me killed.'

‘Lord Staunton has made plans,' he said. ‘If you want to go home again to see your family, then fight for it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.'

At that, her anger blazed. ‘I'm not feeling sorry for myself.' He didn't understand her fate, for he was a man. Even if she somehow survived this last battle, Kadir would sell her to one of the Byzantine lords, who would use her whenever he wanted. She'd rather die than face such a fate.

He circled her. ‘You're better than this, Velaria.' She didn't like his tone, and he pressed further. ‘Your family is wealthy, aren't they? They have noble blood.'

‘Why does that matter?' Her father and brother hadn't come for her. Likely, they were ashamed that she'd run away with the knight.

But there was a sudden shift in Savas's demeanour, something barely perceptible—as if her nobility bothered him. ‘Is your father a baron, like Lord Staunton?'

She shook her head, watching him as he circled. ‘He's a knight. My grandfather was an earl.' She still didn't understand why he'd asked.

‘Then you are a woman of worth,' he said softly. ‘Act like it.' His hand moved towards her face, and out of instinct, she blocked it. ‘Good.'

Part of her recognised that Savas wasn't going hard on her—he'd never planned to strike her. But he continued staring, and she forced herself to focus. He moved his leg towards hers, and she leapt out of the way to prevent him from bringing her down.

There was look of approval in his eyes. ‘Again.' He took her through the series of training exercises they had practised together, but she was aware that the other fighters were watching. Grudgingly, she admitted to herself that Savas was right. She needed the training to pull herself out of the darkness threatening to drag her under. The physical exertion—even though it hurt—was necessary.

When they both stopped to catch their breath, she realised what he was trying to make her understand. Anger could be her weapon against the man Kadir chose as her opponent. She could pour her rage into the fight and even if she died, she would go down swinging.

Savas gave her a drink of water, and she took it. His fingers brushed against hers, and in that moment, a pang of regret struck hard. He was a good man, one who deserved a better life than this. Despite the endless days of suffering, he had remained at her side.

And if fighting one more day would help him escape, she would gladly enter the arena. She didn't know what Lord Staunton planned or how he intended to get Savas out, but she would play her role.

Even if she died in the attempt.

The day of the fight, Velaria picked up her ration of food, and Eligor's hate-filled gaze slid over her.

‘I told Kadir about you and Savas,' he said. ‘He was quite interested to hear it.'

Though he was trying to spark her temper, she refused to respond. Though she wondered what lies Eligor had spread, she refused to show any fear in front of him.

‘Save your breath for your last fight,' she said. ‘Perhaps you'll lose today.'

He only smiled. ‘I told Kadir you were giving yourself to Savas each night. That's why he offered you to those noblemen.' He stood up, stepping close. ‘Did you enjoy it, Velaria?'

Nausea rushed through her, and she stood up. Without thinking, she struck his ear hard. A moment later, Eligor swung back, and she ducked to avoid the punch.

Savas moved to her side then, and he caught Eligor's wrist. ‘Leave her alone.' His voice was cool and controlled, but she heard the fury beneath it. ‘Unless you want me to break your wrist before your fight today.'

Eligor stared back. ‘It doesn't matter what you do. Both of you will lose.'

His words were weighted with confidence, and Velaria demanded, ‘What do you mean?' It sounded as if their fights would not be fair, as a penalty for their friendship.

He lifted his hands and tried to step back. ‘You'll see.'

Savas released his wrist, and Velaria walked back with him to the opposite side of the prison. ‘I don't like this,' he said. ‘Something's different.'

She agreed, but there was little point in arguing with Eligor. Not when he was right—she would probably lose today.

In Savas's eyes, she saw his worry—which was a mistake since there was nothing he could do. Kadir wanted her to die. He wanted her death to be public, and he wanted her to be humiliated. Even if she won the match, it would be the end for her.

For a moment, she drank in the sight of this man. She memorised Savas's lean face, darkened by the sun...the beard stubble that covered his cheeks and jaw, and the blue eyes that were darker than her own. Her heart ached at the knowledge that she would not see him again. But she would do what she could to save him.

‘We should probably remain apart for a little while to appease Kadir,' she said softly.

‘I don't give a damn what Kadir wants,' he shot back. ‘Aye, he's angry at both of us.' He lowered his mouth to her ear and murmured, ‘But today, we make our escape.'

She didn't believe it was possible. ‘How?'

‘We entertain the crowd. We win their approval so he cannot kill us. As his champions, the people pay good coins to watch us fight, Velaria. If we give the crowd what it wants, we can both survive.'

She didn't believe that, but she had no desire to dim his hopes. Instead, she answered, ‘I will try.'

The door to the fighting arena opened, and the light burned her eyes. It seemed that Kadir was starting the first match early, for normally it would be a few hours before the fighting began.

‘Velaria,' a guard called out.

It was too soon. She was usually one of the last to fight. A sudden chill rushed through her, and she wondered if Kadir intended to have her executed in front of everyone. Fear pulsed within, and Savas caught her hand.

‘Make them pay for what they did to you,' he reminded her. ‘And walk with God.'

For a moment, his face was so close to hers, she wondered if he would kiss her. Was it so terrible that she wanted that comfort before she went off to die? But if that was what he'd wanted, he would have done so already.

Velaria squeezed his palm before she took the long walk towards the narrow opening. Four guards awaited her, their weapons poised to strike. They let her out, but this time, they didn't unfasten her manacles. And she was given no weapon at all.

Inwardly, she cursed, for she knew what was about to happen—her own execution. She cast one last look back at Savas. For it was now about to end.

Velaria didn't return after her match.

A bleakness filled him up inside for Brian knew what that meant. But he hadn't been prepared for the grief that sliced through him. Once again, he'd been unable to save someone he cared about.

Despite his best efforts to restore her confidence, they had shattered her.

Damn them. She hadn't deserved this.

Inside, his emotions were raw and out of control. He needed to gather himself, to pour his rage and grief into the fight that lay ahead. But there was an empty place beside him where Velaria should have been. She wasn't here to lean up against him and put her hand in his. And the ache caught him like a physical blow.

Stop thinking of her.

He had his own match to face, another battle to fight and win. Lord Staunton had hinted that he could help them escape, but Brian didn't know when or how. Now it was time to stop waiting. He knew the arena well enough—which areas were well guarded and which had weaker defences. He imagined fighting his way out, and the plan took shape within his mind as he considered all the ways it could go wrong.

Eligor returned from his fight, bleeding and bruised. The man slumped on the opposite side of the prison, his chained hands resting on his knees.

Brian despised the man for what he'd done to Velaria, but he forced himself not to provoke Eligor and draw more attention to himself. It wouldn't bring her back and it would only waste his strength for the next fight. Eligor would die alone one day soon, and it wasn't worth the effort.

The fights continued, and Brian was surprised they hadn't called him yet. He guessed Kadir was saving him for last. Half the men returned, and the other half were dead. The same as always. But the endless waiting drew out the anticipation, making him wonder what lay ahead. It was nearly nightfall, and the fighting would cease soon enough.

Then, at last, a guard called out, ‘Savas!'

He tamped down the emotions, pushing back the grief and rage until there was only silent indifference. He needed the control to get through this match so he wouldn't think about his opponent's impending death. Slowly, he took deep breaths until he felt nothing at all.

Brian walked towards the entrance and chose his sword while the guards surrounded him. After he left them behind, he went outside and saw that the sun was beginning to set while the air remained dry and hot. He gripped his sword, finding the cool stillness within him. The crowd roared its approval, and he waited for his opponent. It would probably be a large man, an experienced, skilled fighter. He stared at the other entrance, waiting for his enemy to emerge.

Slowly, a figure appeared amid the dust, the sunlight casting its shadow as Brian stared at the opponent he had to kill.

A blend of joy and dread coursed through his veins when he saw the face of Velaria. Joy that she was still alive—and dread when he realised she was now his opponent. This was their punishment, then, to fight each other until one of them died.

The horror on her face mirrored his own feelings. She didn't want to kill him any more than he wanted her to be hurt. But if they refused to fight, both of them would die. Their only hope of survival was to escape together.

‘Savas,' she murmured. The anguish in her tone and the expression on her face told him that she expected to lose.

But he would never raise his weapon against her, not in a thousand years. He circled her slowly, his weapon lowered. He kept his voice quiet. ‘We're going to escape this day, Velaria. But before we do, we're going to entertain the crowd in a way they've never seen before. So if the worst happens, they won't kill us.'

‘I won't fight you,' she insisted.

His expression tightened, and he stared at the crowd. ‘Oh, yes, you will. We're going to show them our training.'

They moved to the centre of the arena, and the crowd of onlookers was already cheering and placing wagers.

‘Is Lord Staunton here?' he asked.

She glanced behind him. ‘In the first row.'

‘I don't know what plans he's made, but our only way out is through the crowd,' he said. ‘The entrance on the opposite side of Kadir's platform isn't guarded heavily. We could make it.'

Her eyes still held the intense sadness, but he wasn't going to give up on her. She raised her weapon, and he repeated, ‘It's training, Velaria. Nothing more.'

She took a deep breath, but he saw the shadows in her eyes, the weariness in her posture.

Kadir spoke to the people in their native tongue, explaining how his two greatest fighters had rebelled against him and deserved to be punished.

Brian understood only a little of his speech, but if they could gain the sympathy of the crowd, the people might help Velaria and him escape. The guards would not harm the bystanders, and if enough of them cleared a path, they could get free.

When Kadir gave the command to fight, Brian raised his weapon and met her gaze. ‘Are you ready?'

She gave a slight nod, which encouraged him. With her own sword raised, they began to circle one another. He kept his voice barely more than a whisper, ‘You first.'

She swung her blade, and he defended himself, blocking the strike. A sudden energy rose within him, the anticipation of freedom. If they played this game correctly, there was a chance of victory. He recognised her pattern and footwork and responded, remaining in a defensive stance.

‘Now you,' she murmured.

He spun and began the next pattern, lunging towards her while she blocked him. It was familiar training, and he saw the moment she began to hope. Brian intensified his pace, knowing that it would heighten the crowd's enjoyment, and she knew how to respond. Over and over, they fought, using the sparring motions they regularly practised.

Brian drank in the sunlight and the air, tasting the freedom that was to come. He would do whatever was necessary to get them both out. And if anyone tried to stop them, he wouldn't hesitate to defend her.

Velaria responded to his blows with her own swordplay, and she added a twist of interest to the fight when she spun away and brought her blade low, forcing him to jump.

He couldn't deny that he was enjoying this. Her eyes flashed with intensity, but behind her, he could see Kadir's impatience. The man had expected a quick death for Velaria, not this.

Brian didn't care. This was about the crowd more than anything else.

‘Move towards Lord Staunton,' he said. She didn't reveal that she'd heard him, but as he attacked, she backed up, getting closer to the Norman baron.

Abruptly, she switched positions and pressed her weapon close to Brian's throat. He blocked it and held her back. When he spied the baron nearby, he demanded, ‘How?' He needed to know what plans Lord Staunton had made, if any.

‘After the fight, go through the crowd,' the man answered. ‘The guards won't stop you. Then find your way to the port.'

Though Brian hadn't left the city in years, the port lay east of Constantinople. They could keep the setting sun to their backs and find it.

He quickened his pace, though Velaria's breathing was hitched, and she was clutching her broken rib. They would have to find another way of pleasing the crowd. He brought his blade up close, and their weapons held steady a moment while he pretended to push her back. ‘Disarm me,' he commanded. ‘Then I'll dive and catch their interest while I get the sword back.'

She lifted her blade high, and he loosened the grip on his hilt. When she slashed hard, his weapon went spinning away. He dove into the dirt and rolled, seizing his weapon as he leapt into a fighting stance. The crowd responded in a cheer, and she faced off against him with her sword in one hand, her legs in a balanced stance.

It was time to make their move and escape. ‘Are you ready?' he asked again.

A faint smile rested at her mouth, and she gave a nod. But before he could guide her to bolt towards Lord Staunton, the gate to the prison slowly rose up. And God help them, four more prisoners entered the fighting pit.

Eligor was one of them.

Velaria's heart sank. They had put on a good demonstration for the crowd, but Kadir's thirst for blood had put it to an end.

There were so many fighters. All were skilled, and Kadir intended for only one to be left standing. It was a reckless move, one she'd never guessed he would make.

When she saw more coins being exchanged, she realised this was about wagers. Kadir had likely gambled a good deal of his money. But he would lose most of his strongest fighters—and for what? She didn't understand it.

‘Stand at my back,' Savas ordered. ‘Take a moment to breathe. And don't move from my side.'

It was their best hope of survival, to fight together. His back was sweaty from exertion, as was hers. But she held her sword, waiting for someone to make a move. Instead, the men gathered around Eligor, as if planning a strategy.

‘Savas, they're going to attack all at once,' she predicted.

His back tensed against hers as he scanned the threat ahead. ‘We need more weapons.' But there was only one way to get another sword—by killing one of their opponents swiftly.

For a moment, Velaria's emotions faltered. Ever since they'd taken her from the prison, she'd prepared herself for death. Kadir was furious with her, but although he could easily have had her executed, he'd wanted to earn money for her death.

Velaria was prepared to die—but if she did, Savas would be surrounded. She had to stay at his back and guard him, just as he guarded her. She owed him that.

Self-pity had no place for her now. She had to lock away her feelings, shutting out anything that made her vulnerable. She couldn't think of the men who would die or what would happen next. This was about protecting him. She studied the four men on the opposite side of the arena, who were still making their plans.

But Savas shocked her when he turned and kissed her lightly. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered.

The touch of his mouth upon hers was so fleeting, she almost wondered if it had truly happened. Colour rose to her cheeks, and she hardly knew what to say or do. ‘Why did you do that?'

‘Because now the crowd is on our side, not theirs.'

Of course. It had nothing to do with their friendship. Yet, the warmth of the sudden kiss had brought a deep ache within her heart, a yearning she didn't dare acknowledge. Once again, she bundled up her feelings and pushed them back. Velaria took her position at his back, hardening her heart to what lay ahead.

All four men charged forward, and three attacked Savas at once. Velaria swung her sword at her opponent's wrist before he could block the move. In one blow, she removed his hand. A scream tore from the man, and he dropped to his knees, clutching his wrist as he bled out swiftly. She picked up his fallen weapon and used the second sword to block a blow aimed at Savas's neck.

Her arm reverberated from the force, but she faced Eligor down with cool annoyance.

‘You aren't playing fair, Velaria,' he chided.

‘Neither are you.' But she gave the second sword to Savas while she parried Eligor's next strike. He fought with vicious strength, whereas she had only her defensive skills. It seemed as if he was trying to separate her from Savas, and she kept her back pressed to his.

Eligor swung at her legs, and it forced her to leap out of the way. But a moment later, she deflected another blow aimed at Savas. Her heart raced with fear—not for herself, but for him.

She lacked the strength to defeat Eligor—not when she'd already been fighting for most of an hour. Her arm ached with exertion, and it hurt to continue fighting. Her enemy seemed to sense it. No doubt he intended to wear down her endurance.

‘You don't have to do this,' she said to Eligor. ‘Kadir cannot make you fight us.'

‘I don't intend to die today,' he shot back.

‘You could escape instead,' she suggested. ‘If you leave now, no one would stop you.'

‘Kadir promised me my freedom if I defeat all of you,' Eligor countered as he struck again.

‘And you believe the man who enslaved us? I thought you were smarter than that.' She pressed her weapon against his. ‘Take your weapon and go.'

His expression seemed to flicker, as if he'd not considered whether their master was lying.

‘We have a better chance of getting out if we stand together against the guards,' she insisted. ‘There's no need to fight each other.'

Savas held his swords against his opponents. ‘She's right. We should leave together while we still can.'

One of the fighters considered it, and a moment later, he ran towards the crowd. He leapt into the arena stands with his sword drawn. But he made it no more than three rows before two men attacked him, stabbing him in the back.

Eligor's expression never changed. ‘Not much of an escape, was it?'

‘He shouldn't have gone alone.' But even so, her hopes died down. Now it seemed that making their way through the crowd was a sure path towards death. Their only hope was to be the last two standing. And then what?

‘If we stay together—'

Eligor cut off her words when he lunged with his blade. Velaria barely managed to block it. He pressed his advantage, and she was barely aware that Savas had defeated one of his opponents. Now there were only two. But she could only defend each blow while her arms cried out with exhaustion. Her bruised ribs made it impossible to breathe, and Velaria lost track of the endless attack—until Eligor's sword slipped past her defences. She couldn't move, for fear that he would skewer Savas.

Time seemed to hold still when she saw the blade coming for her. In that instant, she had a choice—step aside and live...or watch Savas die. There was no choice at all. She accepted her fate, even as she tried to divert the last blow.

But before the blade could slice through her, Savas's sword stopped it. His last opponent fell to the ground, and there were only three of them left.

Eligor recognised his fate the moment she did. She and Savas could easily kill him, and he was outnumbered and outmatched.

She tried one last time to get through to him. ‘Join us, and we'll fight our way out, Eligor.'

But his face remained sullen and unmoving. He didn't believe her—and truthfully, she didn't trust him not to turn against them.

He lifted his weapon and paused, waiting for one of them to strike. But she and Savas held steady, their swords poised. She'd done all she could to stop the fight, but it was over now. Eligor couldn't win.

And yet, after they defeated him, their own escape plan seemed impossible. She glanced over at Lord Staunton, who was gripping the edge of the stands, his face locked upon the fight.

‘Kadir won't let either of you live,' Eligor said. ‘Even if you win.'

‘I know.' Velaria didn't move, and the noise of the crowd grew louder as they demanded a fight. ‘But I also know he won't grant your freedom.'

Eligor glanced from her to Savas. Then he made his move, slashing his sword towards Savas. Just as Savas was about to block it, Eligor pivoted and his blade sliced towards her. Velaria leapt out of the way to avoid him.

Eligor attacked again, his speed impossibly fast as he struck. She barely held on to her sword, and her heart beat wildly. But just as she was regaining her balance, Eligor turned to Savas, caught between them with his back exposed.

This was her moment to save him. She hesitated, for there was no honour in killing Eligor from behind.

Yet she had no choice. Her honour had long ago disappeared, replaced by the need to survive.

Velaria lifted her blade and brought it down with all her strength at Eligor's back. But at the last moment, he threw himself to the ground, and she tried in horror to stop her blade from striking Savas.

A scream tore from her as her sword sliced through his flesh, cutting him down. Savas sank to the ground, blood pouring from the wound she'd inflicted across his shoulder.

Oh, God. What had she done? Only instinct kept her from going to him as Eligor moved in for the kill. He'd done this on purpose, to distract her enough to kill them both and win.

Her heart was bleeding, as surely as Savas was dying at her feet.

It's my fault.

She was sobbing, even as she poured herself into winning this last fight. Rage erupted within her, and she dove to the ground, spinning out of the way as her left hand curled into the sand. When she sprang to her feet, she waited for the right moment and cast sand into Eligor's eyes. He flinched, and she struck hard, her sword tearing through his flesh until he stared at her in shock as she pulled the sword from his body.

The crowd was thunderous, but she could only kneel beside Savas, the tears pouring down her face. He was still alive, but barely.

‘Go,' he ordered, his voice low. ‘This is your chance for freedom. Take it.'

‘I can't.'

Not without you.

But she was fully aware that he was dying before her eyes. She tore off a piece of Eligor's tunic and tried to stanch the blood flow.

‘You must.'

But she was frozen with anguish, unable to move. To her horror, his eyes closed, and he grew still. Velaria was dimly aware of someone speaking to her, but she wasn't conscious of the words. Raw pain caught in her throat at what she'd done. Two guards came to take Savas away, and she released her own cry of anguish, screaming at what she'd done.

The crowd fell silent, almost as if they knew not what to do.

But as she passed by Eligor's fallen body, the numbness mingled with grim satisfaction that she'd won the fight.

The price had been far too high. A surge of grief flooded through her, and it was only instinct that kept her walking.

She was dimly aware that the crowd was applauding, but Velaria's focus was on finding Lord Staunton in the stands. He was her only hope for survival now. If she returned to the prison, she was as good as dead. They would slice her throat the moment the door closed behind her. But the baron was nowhere to be found.

The guards were already coming for her. Once they reached her, she would only be captured again. Or worse.

Velaria kept her sword in hand as she quietly walked towards the crowd. She didn't bother to hide her tears but let them flow freely as she met their gazes. Slowly, the people parted to let her through. And when she looked back at the guards, the crowd closed the space, preventing the men from reaching her. She reached the doorway and turned back to the crowd, touching her hand to her heart in silent thanks.

When she reached the open streets, no one tried to stop her.