Night had fallen entirely by the time they reached Constantine’s accommodations. They were greeted by an older Andine woman, who ushered Kerrigan inside. She’d clearly been informed of her appearance because she didn’t balk at it, like so many others did. Kerrigan was quickly put into her own room in the house, and a servant brought her dinner and a change of clothes.
“The general will see you in the morning,” was all the servant said before departing.
Kerrigan pushed her dinner aside. Her stomach was still touchy from the boat ride. Instead, she changed into her nightclothes, slid into bed, and stared out the open window at the moon beyond.
The next thing she knew, she was being awakened by Danae sneaking into her room. Dawn had just crested the horizon. Kerrigan yawned. She hadn’t moved an inch in her sleep. The boat had really taken it out of her.
“Morning. You look well rested.”
Her stomach growled. “Indeed. You didn’t bring breakfast with you by any chance?” Danae tossed her a baked good. It was still warm from the oven. “You’re a goddess.”
“Not me,” Danae said, taking a seat on the bed. “But people will think you are today. If we hadn’t arrived so late last night, someone might have fallen over themselves at the sight of you.”
Kerrigan bit into the muffin and waved her off. “I’m sure they’re used to Doma here.”
“No one is used to Doma anywhere,” Danae said.
“But there are more in Carithian, right? This is where they live.”
“Some of them,” she agreed. “So, I suspect my father will have you out on your mount again this morning.”
Kerrigan chewed, considering her statement. “Do you think he’s going to go through with it?”
“Your bidding?”
Kerrigan nodded.
“I don’t know. He’s never done anything like this before. After my mother …” She let off with a choked cough. “I can’t imagine him in that business.”
“But …”
“But he hates Tarcus just as much. I don’t know that he’s thinking clearly. He shouldn’t have let himself get baited like that. It’s beneath him.”
“Well, Tarcus brings out the best in all of us, doesn’t he?”
Danae wrinkled her nose. “He’s despicable.”
A knock sounded at the door, and an older woman stuck her head inside. “Miss Pallas,” she said sharply, “to your room at once.”
Danae sighed. “Good luck today. Fill me in.”
“You’re not going to come with us today?”
“No. My father wants me kept hidden. I never get to wander around Carithian or go to the tournaments.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m used to it.”
Then, the girl headed out of her room. Kerrigan’s heart went out to her. Functionally, prisoner was more accurate than she’d guessed. He had brought Danae all the way here to watch over her, but not to let her see or do anything. Most people would have no idea she was a truthteller. What was he so afraid of?
She didn’t get to ask as the older woman came in and got her into another beautiful dress. She spent the next half hour on her hair and applying cosmetics. It was the first time since leaving Flavia’s presence that she felt like a pig being prepared for slaughter.
And it was only worth it to see Theo’s jaw unhinge at the sight of her. “My lady,” he said, dropping dramatically to one knee, “might I pledge my undying loyalty to you?”
Kerrigan laughed at him. “Did you not already?”
“You are a vision.” He pressed a kiss to her hand. “My heart, body, and soul belong in your keeping.”
Myron groaned behind him. “Can’t you keep it in your pants, Theo?”
Theo stood swiftly, ignoring Myron’s jab. He brought Kerrigan’s hand to his heart. “I will win this tournament in your name.”
“You’re not winning anything,” Myron grunted.
She couldn’t stop from laughing. “Oh, Theo.”
“Leave her be,” Constantine barked as he appeared in the main hall.
Theo released her with sad puppy-dog eyes and a forlorn reach for her, as if she were being swept away from him. He was truly as ridiculous as any man she had ever met. And she hoped he never changed.
“Well, I’m all dressed up,” she told Constantine as she stepped to his side. “Planning to show me off?”
“I don’t trust you here alone, so you’ll be coming with us to the tournament. I have to sign in my men. You’ll remain at my side the entire time. Do you understand?”
“Sure. Just what I’ve always wanted,” she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.
Constantine pursed his lips and strode out of the house. She followed in his wake and was surprised to find the horses hadn’t been brought out.
“We’re walking?”
“Is that a problem?” Constantine asked.
“But why? The city is dusty.”
“We’ll walk. It’s not far.”
She shrugged and fell into step next to him. It had been too late last night to appear as a spectacle before the people, but in the early morning, a full half of the street seemed to stop what they were doing to bow to her.
“Why do they act like that?” Kerrigan finally asked.
“You’ve seen a Doma. You understand.”
“No, I haven’t.”
He sniffed. “Well, for the better then. They’re terrible. Every last one of them.”
“You’ve met many?”
“Enough on the battlefield and in the negotiations after,” he acknowledged. “Plus, I’ve interacted with a few at parties since training gladiators. They don’t normally talk to someone lowly like me, but you get the general sense of them. People try to stay out of their way.”
“Are they all really terrible?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? The ones I’ve met seemed like any other man, if not more pompous. But the higher up you go, the worse they are. I’ve heard that to be in the presence of He Who Reigns is like being burned alive.”
Kerrigan stumbled on the name. “He Who Reigns?” she gasped.
Constantine looked at her carefully. “Surely, you’ve heard of him, eh?”
She swallowed hard. The name that reverberated through her skull. That haunted her nightmares. When she had met the original Fae, Titania, she had claimed that Kerrigan was a descendant of He Who Reigns. She’d asked her father about it, and he’d made her swear never to repeat the name. Until this moment, she hadn’t even given it much thought. Her mother was the priority. Her parentage beyond that hardly mattered.
Except descendant of He Who Reigns was starting to sound a lot scarier than she’d anticipated. Descendant of a god that burned people alive? That even Constantine had never met in person?
“He … he’s the leader?”
“I don’t know where you grew up, but I thought everyone knew about He Who Reigns,” Constantine said, his voice dipping to a whisper at the name. “He’s the king of the gods. We don’t even speak his name any longer.”
She gulped. “Right. I see.”
How could she be a descendant of a person like that? How could she be a descendant of a god … at all? That … that didn’t make any sense.
No … none of that made sense.
Constantine cursed under his breath. “Quickly to a knee.”
Kerrigan glanced over at him in confusion. They’d reached the nearest bridge that led across the Liber River. A man was being carried on a litter with long poles extending from each end and held on the shoulders of multiple men. The person atop the spread of pillows lounged back in a toga made of gold spun silk. The material draped across his muscular figure, revealing toned thighs and biceps. He wore a circlet of gold vines atop his brow. His expression was bored, barely even surveying the commoners so far beneath him.
Then, his eyes found hers. So blue that they might as well have been the ocean itself. She could feel the power in that gaze. The energy that crackled off of him like a thunderstorm.
She knew that face. She had seen that face in a vision once. A terrible fate that had nearly ruined her life.
Constantine gripped her arm and yanked her down. Her shoulder ached, and she groaned as she fell forward at his insistence.
“What are you doing?” he snarled. “I said, take a knee.”
“Who is that?” she whispered.
Constantine shuddered. “A Doma.”
Kerrigan’s head jerked back up. The man was still staring at her. And she realized then why so many said that she looked like a Doma. Now, she had a comparison of one. His skin was so fair that one could see the blood running beneath the surface. Her features were not quite a mirror, but close enough to be terrifying. They had different hair and eye color, and yet now that she knew he was a Doma, it was obvious why so many believed her to be one—she looked so much like him.
“Head down,” he growled. “Don’t you know who that is?”
“No.”
But she had a guess.
“Vulsan Andromadix, the leader of the army of He Who Reigns and the curator of this year’s gladiator tournament.”
She didn’t drop her head, even as her stomach plummeted. She knew why he was staring at her even if he was unaware. He had been looking for her since she was a baby. Had traveled to Alandria, intent on murdering her for her mere existence.
Vulsan was her mother’s husband.
And a Doma.