Page 11 of The Sun God’s Prize (Child of Scale and Fire #3)

I stand on the deck in the dark red dress with my shoulders back and my hands now bound at the wrists, ankles shackled together like my two large companions, quiet and patient on the outside, at least, as the ship docks.

It’s a busy port here, far busier than the small one where we landed previously, that spot a simple little town built on slavery, I guess, while it appears we’ve reached a more extravagant stretch of civilization.

From the tall, colorfully painted buildings and lush greenery that lines both sides of the river, bustling with ships, smaller boats and ferries transporting crates and bundles on their open decks, this destination appears to be my final stop.

At least, on this leg of my journey to the voice in my head.

The temptation to fight for freedom has dulled, but not out of reservation or dismay.

The two conversations I took part in last night are, instead, still very fresh in my mind when Vunoshe tugs gently on the dainty chain attached to my neck.

I step forward, leading the way, the two men behind me taking the same mincing steps I’m forced to, rattling along behind me as we are led by the slave masterre down the gangplank and onto solid ground.

This is the first time I’ve touched land in days, and the wobbling sensation surprises me.

I’d thought that the lack of coordination I’d felt at our first stop came from weakness.

Apparently, it’s from being on the moving deck of a ship for so long, and it takes me a moment or two to adapt again to a world that isn’t constantly rocking and swaying.

The heat increases as we leave the water, sweltering sunlight beating down on me, the humidity overpowering while I shuffle my way across the powdered dirt at the edge of the dock and turn right on Vunoshe’s heels.

His head is high and he’s refreshed his spicy scent, laughing and waving as we go, small children staring at us like we’re strange beasts they’ve never seen before, though it’s clear this is far from the first time slaves have come to be purchased.

That much is apparent from the large, open space at the far end of the port that we approach, the dusty ground giving way to cobbled stones, rough under my bare feet, hot from the sun.

I lick my lips, tasting the sweat that runs down my cheeks, my hairline soaked with it, but I don’t complain.

I’m still lost in thought and possibilities, thanks to all I’ve been told.

It’s active here, loud and boisterous with people and slaves, but I barely notice. I must take the opportunity presented to me. Despite my vow, that is.

Because Onu’s explanation gave me so much to think about.

“The arena is a spectacle,” he’d said, “a place where people like us,” he included Carrigan in it, “can elevate our station, no matter how lowly our birth.” His enthusiasm was contagious, and had me leaning in to listen, would have even if this information wasn’t important.

“The smaller ones, no,” he wrinkled his nose.

“There’s no glory in that kind of fight you might find in an ordinary Dome.

But the Sun God’s city, the Dome of the Temple, that’s where true salvation lies.

” He rolled his eyes and let out a quick breath.

“That’s where we can fight our way to freedom and riches you can’t imagine. ”

“Fight,” I said. Riches, yes, Vunoshe mentioned the same, though I hadn’t really believed him. Nor the suggestion I could do the same for freedom. But with confirmation from a fellow warrior… true or not, a pipe dream to lead us to death or reality I can count on, one thing was certain.

He had my full attention.

“In contests of will and strength and battle,” he nodded.

“The winners are revered, some freed, most not.” He seemed reluctant to admit that.

“Each fight has its own rules, though it’s the ones to the death that have the best reward.

” He sat back a little, gazing into nothing, lips smiling as though he lost himself in the hope laid out before him.

“I have trained my whole life to win my freedom, and now I finally have the chance to do it.”

I’d listened to him lay out the rest, but the more I heard, the more an idea formed.

Not to fight my way free in the traditional sense, as much as I would have liked to.

But to do so in the arena, to win and gain my liberation, with ranan —the gold currency of the Sun Kingdom—as a reward with it.

Then I would be free to pursue not only the voice’s bidding, but to return to the Overkingdom without fear of being pursued or hunted.

Fighting, I could accomplish. Navigating a dangerous kingdom I knew nothing about?

That held its own anxieties. I’d seen more than enough of the crocodons to concern me, and knew little of sailing or stealing boats.

Retreating back the way I came on my own felt fruitless, as much as I hated to admit it.

Mother would be disappointed, perhaps. But Vivenne taught me to use my strengths against my enemies as much as I could. And this certainly offered that opportunity.

I return from my planning and thoughts, stopping when Vunoshe does, scanning the gathering of buyers, their colorful robes embroidered like his, but their status clearly different.

He’s oddly deferential to many of them, nodding his head, that small smile of his sweet and welcoming, not a glimmer of the demanding confidence he uses against Captain Lhanin in sight.

Speaking of whom, the sailor in question has followed us and joins Vunoshe like he’s going into battle, hands on his hips, his stare a challenge.

I catch the slave masterre ’s flicker of irritation, but he ignores the captain in favor of waving at a tall, broad-shouldered woman in deep purple robes.

“Come,” he snaps at me, tugging absently on my chain, and we’re moving again while I take the measure of this massive woman we approach.

She’s easily as big as my mother was, thick-bodied and muscular, her long, dark hair in plaits hanging around her, woven with gold thread and tiny bells that tinkle when she nods to Vunoshe.

Her dark eyes fix on me, a scar that runs from her chin to her temple, following the line of her jaw, tugging her smile into a grimace, though she seems amenable enough to his greeting when he bows to her, tiny in her shadow.

“ Mistresse Romouth,” Vunoshe says. “I’m delighted to see you here. I had so hoped you’d be present for today’s sale.” He winks. “You’ve saved me a trip to the Dome of Women to bring you my most prized possession directly.”

“I don’t like to miss one if I can help it,” she says in a melodic alto voice.

“I take it you think I’ll be buying your stock?

” She’s eyeing me in turn, and I note her gaze flickering from my shoulders to my hands, taking me in like an opponent, not a possession.

A warrior herself, no doubt about it, even if the scar and her shape and resemblance to Mother didn’t all suggest the same.

She’s not someone to be underestimated.

“I found you a perfect fit for Rae Yiratille’s stable.” He gestures at me. “Remarkable in every way, a true warrior of merit. She will bring honor to your Dome.”

“So you say,” Mistresse Romouth murmurs, stepping closer.

It’s clear that neither of them have any interest in the auction that’s just begun.

This was his plan all along, then, not to offer me for general sale, but with a specific buyer in mind.

She circles me, but makes no move to touch me, finally nodding when she returns to her original position.

“She looks healthy enough,” Romouth says. “I want to see her fight.”

“Of course,” Vunoshe says, bowing. “Shall we?”

This is a normal thing, it seems, because Romouth steps back as Vunoshe turns to me and unlocks me from the other two warriors, his dark eyes meeting mine.

“You will impress her,” he hisses in my face, all trace of joviality and softness gone in a blink. The or else is implied and is unnecessary.

I simply nod back, showing him nothing. That seems to satisfy him more than any assurance, his flashing smile back when he turns and leads me away, through a narrow path left open through the crowd of mingling buyers who talk amongst themselves.

A few note me as we pass and turn to follow, so by the time we reach a small, round ring, much like a training station at home I’ve used many times before, the empty circle’s base thick with sand, we have a bit of a crowd come to observe.

Vunoshe disconnects my wrists, freeing them from one another, but leaves me chained, doing the same with my ankles. I have some mobility, but certainly not what I’m used to, and I frown at him when he gestures for me to go to the center of the ring.

Arguing will only decrease my value, I know that much, so I do as I’m instructed, seething silently inside over the injustice. And now I’m doubting very much the agreement I made after my second conversation last night, even if it made sense to me at the time.

And right up until this moment.

If you fight , the dragon told me, and win your freedom, your path will be clear to do what you need to do to return to finish this .

You want me to fight? That came as a surprise, though I suppose it shouldn’t have. This was your plan all along?

Not specifically . Only then did she admit the truth. I had limited options , she told me. Knowing your particular skills and talents, this was the option with the most chance of success .

The idea that a dragon of vast age and power was making things up as she went along was as disturbing as it was hilarious, and I’d snorted a laugh into the darkness while the two warriors slept beside me.

You’re fucking kidding me , I’d said.

I am not , she’d told me. Fight, Flame. Win. And come to me. But please, hurry .