Page 69 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire

The horses galloped their descent, leaving blue streaks of light in swirling patterns across the sky. The bells rang. I slowed my pace, nearly sobbing in relief.

“Soturion Lyriana,” shouted the Ready. “Dagger! Now!”

The Godsdamned dagger! I’d just run past it. I’d been so focused on the hour’s end and going faster I’d completely forgotten to place myself properly. Now I was nearly half a mile from the finish line.

Shit! My arms pumped desperately, but I was barely at my starting speed. The few stragglers on the track sped up. Lady Pavi was just behind me. Someone from the sidelines called me slow. Asherah. Disgrace to soturi. Another voice shouted that I wasn’t a true Lumerian.

My legs burned, and my cramps returned with a vengeance. I was twenty feet away. My face was on fire. Fifteen feet. There was a storm thundering in my belly. Ten feet. I stumbled, running off to the side. Something struck me from behind. I hit the ground.

My cheek smashed against the dirt as dust exploded in my mouth and tears spilled.

Pavi stomped on my hand. “MOVE!” she screamed.

Wincing and coughing, I sat upright, trying to wipe my face with my injured hand. Dirt was plastered to my face, sticking to my sweat. My sides ached so much I couldn’t stand. My hand was too weak to support my weight.

There was a ringing in my ears, but distantly I heard the Ready scream my name.

I hoisted myself up, chest heaving, breath short, and ran the last few feet to my blade. I grabbed my dagger and collapsed to my knees.

My guts twisted with pain burrowing deep inside my belly. My hands pressed to the ground, my fingers digging into the dirt as pain wrenched through me.

Someone sat behind me, pulling my hair back, a steadying hand rubbing up and down my spine, soothing me.

“I’ve got you.” Rhyan.

His deft fingers smoothed back the loose strands of my hair just as I leaned forward and threw up my entire breakfast. I coughed, gagging on the vile taste, and vomited again.

My stomach seized. Throat burning, I retched, releasing bile.

“You’re all right.” Rhyan held my braid out of the way, his strong hand moving soothingly up and down my back. “Is there more?” he asked quietly. “Let it out. You’ll feel better.”

I coughed until I swallowed, grimacing at the aftertaste. My stomach felt raw but empty. I wiped my mouth, barely registering my embarrassment. I’d never thrown up in front of anyone outside of my family before, much less an audience. “I’m done.”

“Easy now,” he said, helping me sit. Hand still steady on my back, he draped a cold towel over my shoulders. “Keep this on your neck. Deep breaths. I’ll get you some water.”

Rhyan had been gone for only a second when someone grabbed me from behind and hauled me to my feet.

“Wait!” Rhyan yelled at my assailant. “She needs rest!”

Someone dragged me toward the other end of the arena as I tried to dig my heels into the dirt, but I only stumbled forward.

“Pole.” Turion Dairen released me at last, staring down at me.

“What?” My stomach twisted, and a dizzy spell washed over me. I coughed and felt the bile burn through my throat again. The brutal stand now hovered above me. Ropes fell from the apex, blowing in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the ground that made me dizzy.

“Three lashes at the pole,” he said.

“Lashes! For what?”

“Fighting during the run.”

Fresh tears filled my eyes. “Fighting! Pavi ran into me.”

“Five lashes.”

My whole body was shaking, my vision blurred, but I affected my best heir voice to keep the panic from bursting out of me. He couldn’t be serious, he couldn’t actually think this was a good idea. “Turion Dairen, do you think my father, your Arkasva—”

“Your father!” Turion Dairen spat. “Your father gave you to us to become a soturion. Lords and ladies train amongst those without titles. Heirs to the Arkasva don’t get special privilege here. Did not Lord Viktor Kormac’s father also send him?”