“CHALLENGERS IN POSITION!”
The announcer’s voice booms below the arena. My heart lurches against my chest. Thirty minutes have passed in a blur as Tzain discussed strategies and delegated commands. He leads like a seasoned general, wise from years of war. The laborers hang on Tzain’s every word, a spark alight in their eyes.
“Alright.” Tzain nods. “Let’s do this.”
With more nourishment and renewed hope, the laborers move with purpose. But as everyone shuffles onto the deck of the ship, my feet grow heavy like lead. The roar of rushing water approaches, bringing back all the bodies that drowned in its wrath. I can already feel the water pulling down my limbs.
This is it.…
In moments, the games shall begin.
Half the laborers settle into their rowing stations, ready to grant us speed. The rest take position around the cannons in the efficient formation Tzain conceived: two laborers maneuver the muzzle for aim, two load the blastpowder into the breech. Soon, everyone is on the boat.
Everyone except me.
With the water rising, I force my leaden feet to move and I board the ship. I walk across the deck to get in position behind a cannon, but Tzain blocks my path.
“You don’t have to do this.”
Terror rings so loudly in my ears it takes a moment to process Tzain’s words. You don’t have to do this.
You don’t have to die.
“There are only three people who know about the ritual. If we’re all on the boat…” He clears his throat, swallowing the fatal thought. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing. No matter what, one of us has to survive.”
Alright. The words slip to the edge of my lips, desperate to escape. “But Zélie,” I choke out instead. “If anyone stays behind, it should be her.”
“If we stood a chance in hell without her on this ship, I would be persuading my sister instead.”
“But—” I stop as the water of the arena surges, splashing onto the boat. In minutes the chamber will be covered, trapping me inside this burial chamber. If I’m going to run, it has to be now. In a moment it’ll be too late.
“Amari, just go,” Tzain presses. “Please. We’ll fight better if we don’t have to worry about you getting hurt.”
We. I almost find the heart to laugh. Behind us Zélie grips the railing, eyes closed and lips quick as she practices the incantation. Despite her obvious fear, she still fights. No one allows her to run away.
If you’re going to act like a little princess, turn yourself in to the guards. I’m not here to protect you. I’m here to fight.
“My brother is after me,” I whisper to Tzain. “My father, too. Staying off this boat does not keep me or the secret of the scroll alive. It only buys me time.” As the water splashes my feet, I step forward, joining a team at the cannons. “I can do this,” I lie.
I can fight.
Be brave, Amari.
This time I hold on to Binta’s words, wrapping them around my body like a suit of armor. I can be brave.
For Binta, I must be everything.
Tzain holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. He leaves to take his place. With a groan, the boat surges forward with the water, taking us to battle. We sail through the final tunnel. The screams of the crowd grow wild, frenzied for our blood. For the first time I wonder if Father knows of this “entertainment.” If he knew, would he care?
I grip the railing of the ship as hard as I can, a futile attempt to quell my nerves. Before I can brace myself, we enter the arena, exposed, out for the world to see.
The smell of brine and vinegar hits like a wave as I blink in the astounding sight. Nobles line the first few rows above the arena, vibrant silks waving as they pound their fists against the railings.
Turning away, my heart constricts as I lock eyes with a young, wide-eyed divîner on another boat. His blank face says it all.
For one of us to live, the other must die.
Zélie laces her fingers and cracks her knuckles, walking to the bow of the ship. She mouths the incantation, steeling herself against the distractions before we begin.
The crowd roars with each new boat that enters the games, but as I survey the opponents, a terrible realization strikes. Last night there were ten boats.
Today there are thirty.