The king gave a half-hearted wave.
“Good.” Griffin pushed Bradyn through the door. “Go. Now. And don’t come back today! Heed me, boy!”
Bradyn took off running.
Griffin shut the door.
Something bad was about to happen. I could feel it. And I wasn’t alone. Sybil got up and walked toward Griffin.
A guard passed him and went immediately to the king to deliver a message. It was easy to read his lips. He said, “They’re ready.”
King Umbert walked to the railing and raised his hand. “Traitors!” he cried.
The throngs silenced.
“Delay the fight, for another has come! Traitors!” He spat the last word.
The crowd hushed.
“Two nights ago, a pair of fools thought to kill your king.” He lifted his mug, sloshing liquid over the edge. “But they failed. As all will who try to take me from my people.”
Guards pushed two men onto the lift and descended into the arena. Once there, they ripped cloth off their covered heads.
Gasps spread like pox through the seating. Two men, not much older than I, or the prince for that matter. Hands bound behind their backs. Feet chained. Faces bruised. Eyes so swollen they had to be led into the middle of the ring.
A woman wailed. I found her in the middle of the rows, arms flailing, screaming, “My sons!” then, “No. Please!”
A man beside her grabbed her, shuttling her up the stairs to an exit, but the guards refused to let them go.
“No one may leave,” King Umbert declared.
All were to witness King Umbert’s brutality. Did they expect less from this monster?
“Wait. I’ve met them. Haven’t I?” Esmera asked as if she was asking after a long-lost cousin.
“The first night we got here,” Sybil explained.
Prince Jori nodded solemnly. “Halig and Capp. My father’s chamber servants. They confessed. They were responsible for poisoning the mead that almost killed your brother.”
Griffin frowned at Jori, looking less than convinced by the prince’s explanation, but he said nothing to stop the proceedings.
King Umbert raised his cup again. “Yes. Traitors! In our midst. My hounds gave their lives to protect mine, and so their brothers and sisters will be allowed to take their revenge.”
The king nodded and a trapdoor near Halig and Capp slid back. Greyhounds rushed from the pit, tethered by ropes that gave plenty of lead for the dogs to reach them.
Sybil and Esmera hid their faces. Even Griffin, champion beast slayer, master spear thrower, turned his eyes to the ground, unable to watch.
Not me. I’d seen punishment in the name of the king. It was a rite of passage in the Hinterlands—to bear witness. An old man told me right before they strung him up that he was being punished for eating an apple from his own orchard. An apple meant for the king’s taxes.
And so, I watched. I watched that old man. I watched every time. Out of respect for those at the wrong end of the king’s wrath.
It went on for a long time, too long, until finally the boys’ screams ceased and they stopped writhing. All around me, the upper decks were littered with raised fists and claims of justice.
The king nibbled on a chicken leg as they dragged what was left of the bodies into the pits with the dogs, clearing the ring. He dropped the bone on his plate, wiped his hands on a towel, and stood up once more, waving, the signal to begin the tournament again.
The marshal appeared at the end of the tunnel, stepping onto the lift, using it as a balcony. “People of the Walled City, Sir Malcolm.”
The lift descended with Sir Malcolm aboard. Sporadic applause was all the people could muster for the Northman.
“Is that why you asked the boy to leave?” I asked Griffin. “So that he didn’t see that.”
He couldn’t or wouldn’t look at me. “They were his cousins.”
He shifted, his soft, mournful eyes finding mine. His look was haunted—as though this was not the first time he’d seen people he cared about die brutally.
“I’m sure that was upsetting, Maggie. Come, sit beside me,” Prince Jori called.
It didn’t sound like I had a choice.
Griffin stood off to the side, leaning on the railing, his focus never leaving Malcolm.
A spear in hand, a sword hanging from his belt, Malcolm waited near the metal gate that inched upward. He wore a steel chest plate, and gauntlets to cover his hands and forearms, but no helmet.
With each creaking pull, more of the draignoch became visible. I leaned over, trying to get a better glimpse of it, my stomach flipping at the thought it might be her. From the feet I knew it wasn’t. She had black skin, and this creature was sparkling yellow. Halfway up, other differences were apparent too. In size and proportions. Both were reptilian, but she was elegant, lean and muscular, where this beast was . . . clunky.
Yet still fierce. One look at Malcolm, and it rammed its head into the gate until it could finally break free.
The throngs rose to their feet once again, yelling at Malcolm, who rolled out of reach of snapping jaws and stabbing claws, finding a good position. His spear struck beneath its limb, in an armpit.
The animal reared.
Malcolm yanked the spear out and spun behind it, then stabbed again. The draignoch screamed. Huffing and panting, it backed away from Malcolm.
All I could think was, what if it had been her? “This is barbaric.”
“These animals destroyed our lands once upon a time,” Prince Jori said.
“Well, that’s not what’s destroying it now!” I snapped at him, catching Griffin’s curious stare.
I saw Malcolm drop his spear and pull his sword.
The creature returned for another pass, but Malcolm was ready. With a running start, he jumped higher than I had ever seen anyone jump before, landing on the middle of its back, startling the crowd and me. The draignoch reared, trying to throw Malcolm off, but he held on, somehow even climbing. Then he stabbed the poor animal in the neck.
The sight sickened me. Unlike the men who’d tried to kill the king, this animal’s only treachery was that it had been bred within the city’s wall for public slaughter. Ice, frigid and blistering, drove through my veins. My hands were so cold, I clenched them into fists. Was this the effect of the moon or my anger? Or both? I wanted to look at my palms but was afraid the light might be there and someone, even with daylight, would see.
Jori set his hand on one of mine, then grimaced. “Poor thing. Your hands are freezing.” He added his other hand to my other fist. “Don’t fret. It’s almost over.”
I could feel Esmera glaring daggers at me and slid my hands out.
Sybil yelled for her brother, cheering him on.
Malcolm delivered another blow. This time to its side. The draignoch fell over. He stopped suddenly and padded to the other side of the arena, looking up at King Umbert.
The people jumped up, clapping and cheering Malcolm’s name, calling for the draignoch’s death.
King Umbert held out his fist and dropped his thumb.
“What?” Sybil gasped.
Laird Egrid pounded his crutch in anger. “Did you not see that jump Malcolm made? Not even Griffin could have done it! And you insult him?”
“Are you questioning me?” King Umbert hissed. Guards padded toward him.
“No. Never,” Laird Egrid sniveled. “I am ever your humble servant, and so are my children, Umbert. But this feels wrong.”