Slave, Warrior, Queen. Morgan Rice
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think you would still be here in morning.”
She glanced at the house that had been her home for eighteen years, and her eyes filled with tears as she thought of her brothers and her father. But she had to make a choice if she was to save herself, before the chain was around her ankle.
So in one quick motion, she mustered all of her strength and snatched her arm out of the slaver’s grip, lifted her leg, and kicked him in the face as hard as she could. He fell backwards, out of the carriage, and tumbled onto the ground.
She jumped from the wagon and ran as fast as she could down the dirt road, away from the woman she vowed to never call mother again, away from everything she had ever known and loved.
CHAPTER FOUR
Surrounded by the royal family, Thanos tried hard to keep a pleasant expression on his face as he gripped the gold wine goblet – yet he could not. He hated being here. He hated these people, his family. And he hated attending royal gatherings – especially the ones following the Killings. He knew how the people lived, how poor they were, and he felt how senseless and unjust all this pomp and haughtiness really was. He would give anything to be far away from here.
Standing with his cousins Lucious, Aria, and Varius, Thanos didn’t make the least bit of effort to engage in their petty conversation. Instead, he watched the imperial guests meander about in the palace gardens, wearing their togas and stolas, presenting fake grins and spewing false niceties. A few of his cousins were throwing food at each other as they ran across the manicured lawn and between tables stocked with food and wine. Others were reenacting their favorite scenes from the Killings, laughing at and mocking those who had lost their lives today.
Hundreds of people, Thanos thought, and not one was honorable.
“Next month, I will purchase three combatlords,” Lucious, the eldest, said in a boisterous tone as he patted drops of sweat from his brow with a silk handkerchief. “Stefanus wasn’t worth half of what I paid for him, and if he weren’t dead already, I would have run a sword through him myself for having fought like a girl in the first round.”
Aria and Varius laughed, but Thanos didn’t find his comment amusing. Whether they considered the Killings a game or not, they should respect the brave and the dead.
“Well, did you see Brennius?” Aria asked, her large blue eyes widening. “I actually considered buying him, but he gave me this conceited look when I watched him rehearse. Can you believe it?” she added, as she rolled her eyes and huffed.
“And he stinks like a skunk,” Lucious added.
Everyone except for Thanos laughed again.
“None of us would have picked him,” Varius said. “Though he lasted longer than expected, his form was horrible.”
Thanos couldn’t keep quiet another second.
“Brennius had the best form in the entire arena,” he interjected. “Don’t talk about the art of combat as if you know anything about it.”
The cousins grew quiet, and Aria’s eyes became large as saucers as she looked toward the ground. Varius puffed out his chest and crossed his arms, scowling. He stepped closer to Thanos as if to challenge him, and the air thickened with tension.
“Well, never mind those self-important combatlords,” Aria said, stepping between them, defusing the situation. She waved for the boys to gather around closer, and then she whispered, “I have heard an outlandish rumor. A little bee told me the king wants to have someone of royal birth compete in the Killings.”
They all exchanged an uncomfortable look as they fell silent.
“Perhaps,” Lucious said. “It won’t be me, though. I’m not willing to risk my life for a stupid game.”
Thanos knew he could beat out most combatlords, but killing another human wasn’t something he wanted to do.
“You’re just scared of dying,” Aria said.
“I am not,” Lucious retorted. “You take that back!”
Thanos’s patience was spent. He walked away.
Thanos watched his distant cousin Stephania wander about as if she were looking for someone – probably him. A few weeks back, the Queen had said he was fated to be with Stephania, but Thanos felt otherwise. Stephania was as spoiled as the rest of the cousins and he’d rather give up his name, his inheritance, and even his sword to not have to marry her. She was beautiful to behold, true – her hair golden, her skin milky white, her lips blood-red – but if he had to listen to her talk about how life was so unfair one more time, he thought he might cut his ears off.
He scurried to the outskirts of the garden toward the rose bushes, avoiding eye contact with any of the attendees. But just as he rounded the corner, Stephania stepped in front of him, her brown eyes lighting up.
“Good evening, Thanos,” she said with a scintillating smile that would have most of the boys here drooling after her. Everyone but Thanos.
“Good evening to you, too,” Thanos said and skirted around her, continuing to walk.
She lifted up her stola and trailed after him like a pesky mosquito.
“Don’t you find it so unfair how – ” she began.
“I’m busy,” Thanos snapped in a tone harsher than he intended, causing her to gasp. He then turned toward her. “I’m sorry…I’m just tired of all these parties.”
“Perhaps you would like to stroll the gardens with me?” Stephania said, her right eyebrow peaking as she stepped closer.
That was the absolute last thing he wanted.
“Listen,” he said, “I know the queen and your mother have it in their minds that we somehow belong together, but – ”
“Thanos!” he heard behind him.
Thanos turned to see the king’s messenger.
“The king would like you to join him in the gazebo straightaway,” he said. “And you too, my lady.”
“Might I inquire why?” Thanos asked.
“There is much to discuss,” the messenger said.
Not having had regular conversations with the king in the past, Thanos wondered what that might entail.
“Of course,” Thanos said.
To his great dismay, a beaming Stephania hooked her arm around his, and together they followed the messenger over to the gazebo.
When Thanos noticed several of the king’s advisors and even the crown prince already sitting on benches and chairs, he found it odd that he had been invited, too. He would hardly have anything of value to offer in their conversation, as his opinions about how the Empire was ruled differed greatly from those of everyone here. The best thing he could do, he thought to himself, was to keep his mouth shut.
“What a lovely couple you make,” the queen said with a warm smile as they entered.
Thanos pinched his lips shut and offered Stephania to sit down next to him.
Once everyone had settled, the king rose to his feet and the gathering quieted down. His uncle wore a knee-length toga, but where the others were white, red, and blue, his was purple, a color reserved only for the king. Around his balding temple was a golden wreath, and his cheeks and eyes still drooped even though he was smiling.
“The masses grow unruly,” he said, his voice grave, slow. He slowly scanned all the faces with the authority of a king. “The time is past due to remind them who is king and enact harsher rules. From this day forward, I shall double tithes on all property and food.”
There came a surprised murmur, followed by nods of approval.
“An excellent choice, your grace,” said one of his advisors.
Thanos couldn’t believe his ears. Double the people’s taxes? Having mingled with commoners, he knew that the taxes required were already beyond what most commoners could afford. He had seen mothers mourn