Nightfall: Book Two of the Chronicles of Arden (28 page)

The uncanny sensation finally ebbed when the guide led them through a tunnel at the base of the building. Torches lined the interior of the tunnel, illuminating damp, mossy walls. The temperature inside dropped enough that Joel wished he’d brought a cloak. At the far end of the corridor, light poured through an arched gateway. Joel nearly had to sprint to keep up as they moved straight toward the light source. His stomach rolled with anxiety.

Joel’s mouth hung ajar as they passed through the other end of the tunnel. A vast arena lay below. A pit of white sand served as the performance area, surrounded by three tiers of seating and a brick wall dividing the arena from the spectators. Two barred gates on opposing ends of the playing field led below ground and seemed to be the only way in or out of the arena. Joel imagined once the gates were lowered, the only method of escape would be victory in the ring—or death.

He shuddered and looked away from the pit, choosing to focus his attention on the spectator area instead. All around him, patricians dressed in clothing more aptly suited for a wedding or great feast conversed with one another. Servants bustled from one person to the next, offering wine and sweet treats from platters. Light, cheerful music drifted on the breeze, and Joel was shocked when he realized an ensemble of musicians played beneath a nearby awning.

Disgust passed across Joel’s face as he looked from one courtier to the next. Didn’t they know they were about to watch people
slay
each other? Why were they acting as though they were attending a party? This wasn’t a time for food and music. It was a time for mourning! In a matter of minutes, people were going to
die
. How could these spectators be so nonchalant? He didn’t have time to delve further as their guide motioned for them to follow him to the Emperor’s box.

Emperor Lichas sat front and center on a dais above the pit. Adrian Titus lounged to the Emperor’s immediate right, and beside the Archmage were the two Shiraz princes and Chancellor Garron. To the Emperor’s left sat a beautiful young woman with elaborately woven blonde hair and a stunning lavender dress fit for a queen. The other members of the royal court lounged on plush, velvet cushions behind the Emperor’s party. A silk canopy tented them, preventing the midday sun from touching their skin and eyes.

The guide stepped before the dais and took to one knee. “Your Grace, your distinguished guests have arrived.”

Emperor Lichas lifted his chalice, and immediately a servant boy was by his side to fill it. “Be welcomed to the amphitheater, visitors from Arden. You’ve come to Teivel at the most opportune time. Thrice a year, our mighty gladiators battle for fame and glory within the arena, and today promises to be a match the people will talk about for years to come.”

Joel bent forward, staring at the dusty marble steps as he bowed alongside the others. He could feel the Emperor’s cold stare pass across the group of envoys without needing to glance up, and a sudden fear gripped his heart. What if he couldn’t do this? What if he was unable to watch the match? Did he stand to get into trouble?

“As always, your hospitality is most generous, Your Grace,” Koal said, rising to his full height once again.

Lichas motioned to the woman sitting beside him. “This is my wife, Cassia.”

The young woman rose to her feet, extending her hand to Koal.

Koal took hold of it. His large, calloused hand dwarfed hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Empress. Words cannot accurately describe your beauty.”

Cassia nodded regally and replied in a soft, well-rehearsed voice, “Thank you, Seneschal of Arden. I hope you’ve found Teivel to your liking thus far.”

“We have, Empress.”

“It pleases me to hear that, Seneschal,” she replied, her tone lukewarm. When Koal released her hand, Cassia bowed hastily and returned to her cushion. She did not once make eye contact with her husband.

The Emperor cleared his throat. “Envoys, take a seat. The match will commence shortly—” He narrowed his eyes in Joel’s direction, and for a brief moment, the mage thought he’d done something to offend the ruler. But no, the Emperor was glaring
beyond
Joel, at someone else. “Ah, Alerio, there you are. Tardy, as usual.”

“Your Grace,” Prince Alerio greeted, locking his jaw in a most stubborn display. He’d somehow managed to approach undetected, perhaps because no flock of courtiers hung from his arm today. The sunlight reflected off his golden crown and hair as he bowed to his sire. “Please forgive my lateness.”

“You are forgiven,” the Emperor sighed. “Go take your seat.”

Alerio’s shrewd eyes flashed toward the envoys. “May I propose Lord Hasain Radek and his peers sit with my party during the match?”

Joel glanced at Hasain in time to see the young lord’s shoulders tense. Koal frowned as well but said nothing.
Sit where? Is Alerio not sitting with the rest of his family?

Emperor Lichas took a sip from his chalice, watching the envoys carefully from the corner of his eye. “If Hasain Radek and his peers desire to sit with you, they may.”

Joel swallowed. The Emperor had phrased his words as though they had the option to decline, but did they really? Or was this the same as the Emperor’s invitation?

“What say you, Lord Hasain?” Alerio asked. His smooth voice unsettled Joel’s nerves. “The other lords and I would quite enjoy your company. You as well, Lords Liro and Joel Adelwijn.”

Hasain’s uncertain eyes flashed toward Koal, clearly seeking some kind of answer from the seneschal. Joel could feel his own heart racing.

I don’t want to go sit with them. What if they mean to pry for information? Father told us not to discuss Arden with any of these Imperials. Can I refuse to answer questions, or will such behavior be perceived as rude?
Joel stole a glance at Liro, doubting his brother would be able to contain his own personal opinions.
This is a bad idea
.

Koal gave no spoken answer, but his pale blue eyes met Hasain’s dark ones, and some form of silent, mutual understanding passed between the seneschal and the young Radek. Joel thought he understood, too. This was Hasain’s decision to make. He was the son of the King. To ask permission in front of these Imperial highborns would have painted him in a bad light. In this instance, he couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

Hasain straightened his back, voice steady and assured despite the wariness he surely must have felt. “It would be an honor to accompany you, Prince. We accept your invitation.”

Joel’s pulse thudded in his ears, louder than thunder or violent deluge. So it was decided.

“Very good,” Alerio replied, motioning for them to follow.

Cenric touched Joel’s shoulder as he passed. “We’ll find you at the end of the match.” The ambassador’s tepid smile and gingerly spoken words did little to settle Joel’s stomach.

He followed behind Hasain, Liro, and the prince. Leaving the dais behind, they climbed to the third and highest tier of seating, where a silk awning shadowed a private viewing box. Joel cast aside his worry long enough to gawk at the scenery. From way up here, the panoramic view of the amphitheater was incredible. He began to grow dizzy staring at the gathered courtiers in the stands below and had to focus his attention elsewhere.

Two youthful, well-dressed men waited in the private box. They were as different from one another as night was from day—one stout with coarse, light brown hair, the other towering above his companion, with wispy blond hair and sharp azure eyes.

Prince Alerio gestured toward them as he moved beneath the canopy. “Lord Balios Theron, son of Councilor Theron. And my cousin, Lord Stavros Sarpedon. These are Lord Hasain Radek, son of King Rishi Radek, and Lords Liro and Joel Adelwijn—our guests from Arden.” Both men nodded cordially and uttered quiet greetings, but Joel sensed no gregariousness from either lord.

Alerio tapped the limestone bench. “Have a seat.” He flagged down a servant as Joel and the others seated themselves, and a moment later, wine was being poured for the party. Joel accepted a gilded chalice, if only to be polite. He grasped it between his fingers, thankful that by holding the goblet, he wouldn’t be tempted to wring his hands.

Balios, who sat on the opposite side of the prince, glanced around his peer to stare at the foreign lords. “My prince has informed me this is your first visit to our grand empire. Have you found it to your liking so far?”

“Teivel is extravagant,” Liro responded as he accepted a drink. “In comparison, Silver City looks like an unkempt hovel.” He chuckled darkly. “Of course, Silver is brimming with vagrants, thieves, waifs, and other undesirables. They serve no purpose other than to tarnish our otherwise beautiful city. I must say, I stand impressed when I look upon Teivel. It seems you’ve found a way to purge your streets of such
uncouth
company.”

Balios nodded, his mouth twitching as the telltale signs of a smirk flashed across his thin lips. “The scum is kept outside the dome, on the outskirts of the city.”

Joel held back the urge to glower. He knew it would be unwise to state his own opinion or scold Liro for voicing his, so Joel remained silent.

“As it should be,” Alerio sneered. “Even still, the peasants are an ugly smear against our white walls. If I were Emperor, I’d have half a mind to send the Imperial army outside the dome to slaughter the whole lot of them.”

Joel could only think of Gib and his family. Had they all been born here, Gib would be one of those “ugly smears.” Would Joel have held the same opinion as Alerio and his friends? Would he have been so cruel as to wish for Gib to be slaughtered simply because of his birth status? Joel’s chest ached at the thought of it.

“It would free up space for those more deserving,” Balios chuckled. “The dome could be extended once the filth was washed away.”

Joel couldn’t take any more. He
had
to say something. His voice sounded foreign to him. “If not for your peasants, who would service your country?” Liro’s deadly glare burned into his brother, but he couldn’t stop now that he’d begun. “Surely you wouldn’t have your elite doing the lowly, mundane tasks required to keep your grand city afloat.”

The prince’s eyes speared Joel as sharply as any blade. “Our best servants have long bloodlines, Lord Adelwijn. They are more than capable of doing any job an uneducated, unrefined vagrant could do.”

Tense silence grew around them, and Joel locked his jaw to keep from saying more. He glared at his boots and wished desperately for the heat in his cheeks to subside.

After a moment, Hasain cleared his throat, stepping up to make amends for Joel’s folly. “Apologies, Prince Alerio. Arden’s guidelines are so very different from your own. We haven’t enough servants to be rid of our lower class just yet, no matter how unsavory they may be.”

Joel wanted to be offended. He wanted to shout at Hasain to take it back. Gib wasn’t unsavory! Nor were his family or friend Nage. Being commonborn was no crime, and it didn’t make a person less desirable. He wanted to fuel his rage but knew better. Hasain had just saved Joel’s neck.

Alerio waved the wine server away and turned to address Hasain directly. “How fare the council sessions between our lands? You’ve been meeting for a moonturn now. I would hope to hear good news.”

Hasain took a delicate sip from his chalice before gracing the Imperial prince with a response. “Despite our differences, we’ve made progress restoring harmony between our nation and yours.”

“And what of Shiraz and Nales?”

Hasain paused, his mouth pulling into a severe slant as he thought out his next words. “Old grudges die hard. But Arden is ready to cast these fears of war aside and work to make peace with both Shiraz and Nales. No one will benefit from bloodshed, but much is to be gained if we set aside our differing ideals and focus on how we can help each another instead.”

Cold laughter rippled from Alerio’s parted lips. “Spoken like a true politician! Perhaps you’ll make an excellent advisor to your future king after all.”

Joel swallowed, glaring at the ground beneath his sandaled feet.
Are they picking fun at Hasain? Is this some kind of joke? Did they invite us to sit with them just for their amusement?

“Yes,” Stavros agreed, smirking. “The son of the ‘notorious traitor’ shows potential!”

The Imperial youths shared a round of sinister laughter, and to Joel’s dismay, Liro indulged in their mirth as well. The mage bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood on his tongue.
Why are they tormenting him? Why are they being so cruel? And Liro too! Stop it! Stop laughing!

Hasain’s face was drawn, his complexion washed out and pale. His typical poised, self-assured shell seemed to have crumbled, leaving behind a vulnerable and exposed child who clearly wasn’t used to being scorned in such a way. Joel wanted to offer words of comfort. He wanted to defend his cousin. But Joel smartly held his tongue, knowing he was already treading thin water.

Hasain opened his mouth, but at that moment, a horn blared from far below and all eyes turned toward the arena.

“About time,” Alerio groaned, taking another drink from his half-empty chalice.

The sound of grinding hinges echoed across the amphitheater as the heavy metal gates within the arena were raised. Joel shifted forward in his seat to get a better view.