Page 20 of Of Nightmares & Fire (Elusive Umbra #1)
Chapter nineteen
Astraea
The nightmares have become debilitating.
Two nights in a row they have had me lurching awake in a puddle of sweat and breathing heavily.
I have begged Pravin to leave me because of the agony behind my eyes.
My entire body throbs with a reminder of the terror I am so tense with.
Today, though, he has demanded that I get out of bed.
He informed me that the first event is to take place, and if I didn’t get out of my bed, there would be a punishment.
I don’t think I would be able to take one of my father’s punishments right now.
The marks across my skin are still ever-present, and I couldn’t fathom the pain of that adding to my head. So here I am.
I hate being down here .
To keep out of the vicious onslaught of the sun, many times my father hosts entertainment below the castle.
He has created a deep amphitheater within the ground below.
The expanse of the oval space is surrounded with tall, burned bronze braziers, all lit and casting the dark space in an ominous orange glow.
This is where warriors come to die.
“Why does it have to be this way?” I ask no one in particular, but Pravin looks over at me with a grin, no doubt searching for an opportunity to push me. I’m sure he is annoyed that I didn’t argue about coming, and now he doesn’t get to watch me receive the punishment I was promised if I had.
“To weed out the weak, of course. You will have your first solo courting as soon as this is said and done.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks down on the pit below us.
“The winner gets the prize.” That’s all I am to them.
A prize. Rolling my eyes, I look out over where the men have gathered.
We are in the center of the large oval arena, a crow's nest box sitting high above the rest of the spectators.
Of course my father has gathered most of Eathian here to witness all of this.
They will be invited the whole time. Then when it's over, there will be a ball where the winner is announced and handfasting is completed.
It used to be that magick would seal the handfast, a magickal ceremony where each person entering the betrothal had to sacrifice lifeblood to tether their two souls to one another. Now it's a mere promise to uphold the union. Their word.
My gaze is immediately snagged on two brothers as they enter the arena last. They are the least armored but the most deadly in appearance.
Both are shirtless, with only a band of bronzed metal wraps snugly around each bicep, and their harem pants are held in place by a thick leather band around their tapered waists.
Kyros has his longer dark hair pulled back and tied messily and low at the back of his head, and Mavros has his longer blonde hair at the top of his head pleated into a mohawk, the sides freshly shaven, showing more of the tattoos above his ears.
Mavros, of course, has a smile brandished on his face, and the opposite is said of Kyros; like night and day. As they walk forward, the other soldiers, all in varying levels of armor, tense. I see a couple even take a step back, and my brow furrows.
“Those two are going to be an issue.” I hear Pravin say to my father as he comes to stand at our side. My father lifts his chin and narrows his eyes, and something almost protective rises in my chest as I see him assessing Mavros and Kyros.
“They will make for impressive entertainment.
You know as well as I do that most of the magick is gone from the realm.
I have no doubts those markings are for show.
The kingdom of Deimos is on our side, even if it is reluctant.
Queen Phaedra wouldn't risk the repercussions of enlisting those with magick into her inner circle, and she definitely wouldn't send them here if she did.” My father says confidently.
“Come, daughter, you will give your favor to one of the warriors now.” He clips, not waiting for me to follow.
He takes the set of stairs to the right of the balcony, leading to a platform set up to the side of the main fighting ring.
Cheers ring out all around as we are spotted by the people of Eathian and probably the neighboring kingdoms too; our presence signifies the start of the games.
A fight to first death. I’ve only read about this in history tomes.
The games my father hosts for entertainment have nothing on the sheer amount of people here today.
I guess the kingdom wants to know what kind of king they may one day have.
The men line up in the very center of the amphitheater, and my father nods at me to begin.
Swallowing my fear, I take the last set of small steps, and when my feet hit the dirt ground in the pit, the crowd roars with excitement.
The energy of the massive room is the only thing that propels me forward.
I’ve taken a few hours of each day since meeting the men to get acquainted with their faces and learn a little more about their heritage.
Mavros and Kyros are the only ones I have found little on.
I can't help but wonder if the alliance that my father has with Queen Phaedra Lazuro is as strong as he outwardly makes it seem.
Every man here is beautiful in their own way.
I’m sure many of the women in the stands would be thrilled to be in my place.
To seemingly have a choice in what can only be a righteous and bountiful future.
The thought makes my stomach sour, though, and apprehension bites at the back of my mind as I reach the first man.
Cadoc beams as he reaches for my hands. My lips curl up on one side into a small, meek, almost sad smile as I accept his touch, and he leans in, allowing me to kiss his cheek.
“Prince Cadoc Natharia of Irowerth, thank you. It honors me that you should wish to fight for the chance of our betrothal. Your courage does not go unseen. If you should fall in the fight, I will pray that your ashes fly free and your soul not carry the burden of burning for eternity in Zameil.” I say just as I rehearsed.
“Thank you, Princess. The honor is mine.” He nods a bow and takes a step back into line.
Moving on, I step forward to greet the next man.
Son of Lady Kenina and Lord Ezequiel Caius of Eythora, one of our biggest cities within Eathain.
I’ve met Benat many times, as his father and mine are as close as one could consider friends.
They are both horrible men, and they equally love the idea of power and ruling over actually caring for their people.
“Hey beautiful, I told you it would be no time at all and those lips would be on me.” He smirks, and I recoil the slightest amount. As I do, I notice movement to the side and make eye contact with Kyros and then Mavros. The latter gripping the former by the wrist.
“Benat.” I nod my greeting, letting my gaze fall on him again.
He has the look most women love. Straight teeth and nose, fiery passion in his narrowed cinnamon-hued eyes, and the same cinnamon-brown hair to match.
I ignore his cocky remark and continue with the blessing.
“It honors me that you should wish to fight for the chance of our betrothal. Your courage does not go unseen. If you should fall in the fight, I will pray that your ashes fly free and your soul not carry the burden of burning for eternity in Zameil.”
When I finish, I lean in to kiss his cheek just as I did with Cadoc, but instead of accepting, he turns his head, stealing my lips with his.
The crowd grows to a frenzy. Stepping back with a gasp, I look down the line.
Many of the suitors look angry, but two of them are planted where they stand with barely contained rage.
Kyros and Mavros don't look at me; they vibrate with fury, their gazes locked on Benat.
Clearing my throat, I eye Benat as he laughs and rallies the crowd further by touching his lips and letting his tongue roll out to take my taste into his mouth with a groan. The tension between those on my left and the brothers intensifies with the display.
Faolan Damalis, nephew of Lord Ophir Damalis of Halcyon, one of the outlying cities, looks apologetic as I approach him.
His kind brown-hazel eyes flick between mine, and he bows his head before brushing back his shoulder-length dreadlocks from his tattooed face, giving me access to place a kiss on his cheek.
I recite the same blessing to him, and he accepts it with a respectful bow, narrowing his eyes at the previous suitor, who was less than courteous.
Mavros is next, and as I approach him, he gives me what I now know is his signature smirk and wink.
I roll my eyes as he openly laughs. Taking my hands in his, he tugs me toward him, and I have to roll my lips in to keep myself from laughing at his antics.
He has been easy to like; I suppose I am grateful for that.
“Lay it on me, Princess.” He turns his head so I have easy access to his cheek.
“I knew the princess nickname was fitting.” He whispers as my lips make contact with his skin, and they bring a flush to my own as I step away from him.
Shakily, I say the blessing, and he pins me with a look I don’t understand.
Then, he just shakes his head and takes a step back.
When I reach for Kyros, he levels me with a glare.
The negative energy riveting from him leeches into me, and I have to grit my teeth not to say something about it.
He does not take my hands; instead, he just stands there, staring into my eyes like he is searching past what he is seeing and diving into my every thought.