Page 74 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)

“May the games…” The orator paused dramatically, hand raising up in a closed fist before bringing it down on the railing of the balustrade. “Commence!”

The crowd gave one final shout as the Occian gladiators dispersed, looking for an angle to Callinora.

Immediately, the added condition of the princess being placed like a trophy for the warriors to claim seemed to be an advantage for Dean and the twins.

They formed a wall, spacing out evenly, and using the barricade of the arena behind them to avoid being surrounded.

Enitha had a talent for theater, yes, but not for war. As if ordered to do so, the gladiators began charging one at a time. Dean took the first warrior head-on, putting him down with only two moves. Then Veston and the twins easily handled the next three that charged.

Blood spewed into the mud. The crowd guffawed and booed, but cheered again when the next gladiator took his turn.

The newest gladiator’s pace was much slower, buying time for Dean to shout some command to the others. All three nodded. Tyla and Raidinn took steps toward their opponent while Dean rummaged through the four dead soldiers’ battle belts, looking for weapons superior to the ones Enitha had provided.

The remaining two gladiators only watched.

It would’ve been so easy for them to join forces, to use their numbers to their advantage, but it was more obvious than ever that their master had forbidden them from doing so.

The queen of the Isles wanted it to be Haxus to lay the final blow on Callinora.

A plan she seemed to be regretting as the fifth gladiator was nearly cut in two by Raidinn’s overpowering strike.

“Lucilla,” Enitha called out. “Lucilla, where are you!?”

“Here, my queen.”

“Fetch me the arena coordinator at once!”

“Right away,” Lucilla bowed. “Your majesty.” With a panicked hop, Lucilla ducked away and out of sight.

“Something wrong, Enitha?” Sylan was visibly amused, eyes flickering at the violence before him. “Did we, perhaps, underestimate the Earth-scum?”

The Queen ignored him. She still had a painted, closed-mouth smile for all her people, taking another long swig from her wine chalice like nothing was amiss. Even as her own orders were backfiring, she cared more for appearances than anything else.

Sensing she was near her breaking point, Ingrid joined in. “You were right, Enitha.” She said it softly, but with enough cloying cadence to catch the queen’s attention. “This is so much fun. Can’t imagine why we stopped doing this back home.”

She waited for a threat, but only got that same strange look from Sylan.

He looked to be ready with another underhanded insult for the Queen, but the crowd erupted at that very moment.

Dean had just taken out the next gladiator with a harmonious combination of strikes.

Using the new sword he’d vultured from the fallen, he beheaded his opponent so swiftly the body continued on for a few steps before thudding to the wet ground.

As disgusted as she was, Ingrid couldn’t help swelling with pride.

She scooted to the end of her seat, taking full advantage of Sylan’s insistence she didn’t need to be in chains.

Dean was an artist with the sword, begging to be studied.

With blinding speed, he jabbed at the next gladiator’s neck, stopped just as it was parried, then spun down to a knee and cut through an ankle with the other blade.

That decade of training had never left him, ingrained into his mind, his bones, his very nerve-endings.

Only one more Gladiator remained. He circled on his heels like a frightened cat as Dean approached, but behind him, Haxus tugged harder on his chains.

Stuck between the world-walkers and the creature, the final gladiator could only remain in place and quickly make his choice on how he wanted to die.

He looked to the crowd, screaming something inaudible. He was begging, Ingrid realized. Pleading with his Queen for his life.

He received no mercy.

Dean met the gladiator in the very middle of the stage.

The gladiator paced a moment, then charged, all flailing arms and curses and desperation, while Dean kept that same leisurely pace until the very last, waiting, easily evading to his right with a slide, and cutting down his attacker in one motion.

At this, the crowd had gone eerily quiet.

And on the baldachin, the tension was just as taut.

“You asked for me?” An older male dressed in a bejeweled tunic appeared at the queen’s side. His hands were clasped innocently over his heart, chin tucked. On his chest was a sigil of the Occanthus bird clutching a golden standard in its mouth, the marker of the game’s coordinator.

“I’ll need more gladiators,” Enitha said without looking at him. “Send them out and release Haxus at once.”

“My queen?” His face had gone pallid. “You mean, simultaneously?”

“Yes! And hurry!”

But the coordinator didn’t move. “Your majesty,” he proceeded with caution. “Haxus. It knows no friend, no ally. He will attack whoever is closest. The gladiators will be forced to defend themselves.”

“That’s not for me to worry about. My only concern is that these… these traitors do not gain any favor with the crowd. I want them begging for their lives. I want my message to be clear!” She turned and, seeing her vassal hadn’t moved, screamed, “Now!”

The scolded Viator scuttled off down the stairs.

Replacing him at Enitha’s side, was Lucilla.

It was a welcome change for Ingrid to behold. The lady’s maid no longer carried the look of a meek victim as she watched the violence before her. She did not cry. She did not pout. She did not peer at her feet in shame. Inversely, she’d brought back an oddly bright disposition with her.

Any others on the baldachin might’ve thought this was a welcome change.

That Lucilla had altered her mindset towards the games in the brief minutes she’d left to fetch the game’s coordinator.

After months of sulking up there in the best seats the arena had to offer, looking like a dark spot on the otherwise joyous occasion, she had now seen the light.

Any onlooker close enough to see her might’ve thought she’d come to understand what the games meant to the city.

Might’ve thought she was enjoying herself, even.

But Ingrid knew better.

Now that the first wave of gladiators had been felled, Lucilla’s eyes danced at her in anticipation.

Ingrid nodded back, and Lucilla gave an odd sign with her fingers.

It was a gesture so small, so innocuous, that even Ingrid wouldn’t have caught it…

if she hadn’t been told what it meant just the night before.

With a serene smile, Lucilla grazed her thumb over the length of her index finger, confirming that the time to act was now.

And so Ingrid Lourdes stood, and readied to take the leap.