Slave, Warrior, Queen. Morgan Rice

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СКАЧАТЬ going to hold you to it, you know,” Ceres said, smiling – although in reality, she would never take his sword from him.

      “I’d expect nothing less,” he smirked.

      She crossed her arms in front of her chest as a dark thought crossed her mind.

      “Mother wouldn’t allow it,” she said.

      “But Father would,” he said. “He’s very proud of you, you know.”

      Nesos’s kind comment took her off guard, and not knowing exactly how to accept it, she lowered her eyes. She loved her father dearly, and he loved her, she knew. Yet for some reason, her mother’s face appeared before her. All she ever wanted was for her mother to accept her and love her as much as her brothers. But as hard as she tried, Ceres felt she could never be enough in her eyes.

      Sartes grunted as he climbed the last step behind them. He was still about a head shorter than Ceres and as scrawny as a cricket, but she was convinced he’d sprout like a bamboo shoot any day now. That’s what had happened to Nesos. Now he was a muscle-bound hunk, hovering at six foot three.

      “And you?” Ceres turned to Sartes. “Who do you think will win?”

      “I’m with you. Brennius.”

      She smiled and ruffled his hair. He always said whatever she said.

      Another rumble came, the crowd thickened, and she felt the urgency.

      “Let’s go,” she said, “no time to waste.”

      Without waiting, Ceres climbed down the wall and hit the ground running. Keeping the fountain in sight, she made her way across the plaza, eager to reach Rexus.

      He turned and his eyes widened in delight as she neared. She rushed into him and felt his arms wrap around her waist, as he pressed a scruffy cheek against hers.

      “Ciri,” he said in his low, raspy voice.

      A shiver ran through her spine as she spun around to meet Rexus’s cobalt blue eyes. At six foot one, he was nearly a head taller than her, and blond, coarse hair framed his heart-shaped face. He smelled like soap and the outdoors. Heavens, it was good to see him again. Even though she could fend for herself in nearly any situation, his presence brought her a sense of calm.

      Ceres raised herself up onto the balls of her feet and curled willing arms around his thick neck. She had never seen him as more than a friend until she heard him speak of the revolution, and of the underground army he was a member of. “We will fight to free ourselves from the yoke of oppression,” he had said to her years ago. He had spoken with such passion about the rebellion that for a moment, she had really believed overthrowing the royals was possible.

      “How was the hunt?” she asked with a smile, knowing he had been gone for days.

      “I missed your smile.” He stroked her long, rose-gold hair back. “And your emerald eyes.”

      Ceres had missed him, too, but she didn’t dare say. She was too afraid to lose the friendship they had if anything were to happen between them.

      “Rexus,” Nesos said, catching up, Sartes at his heels, and clasping his arm.

      “Nesos,” he said, in his deep, authoritative voice. “We have little time if we are to get in,” he added, nodding to the others.

      They all hurried off, merging with the throng heading toward the Stade. Empire soldiers were everywhere, urging the crowds forward, sometimes with clubs and whips. The closer they came to the road that led to the Stade, the more the crowd thickened.

      All of a sudden, Ceres heard a clamor by one of the booths and she instinctively turned toward the sound. She saw that a generous space had opened up around a small boy, flanked by two Empire soldiers and a merchant. A few onlookers fled, while others gawked in a circle.

      Ceres rushed forward to see one of the soldiers slap an apple out of the boy’s hand as he grabbed the little one’s arm, shaking him violently.

      “Thief!” the soldier growled.

      “Mercy, please!” the boy screamed, tears streaming down his dirty, hollow cheeks. “I was…so hungry!”

      Ceres felt her heart burst from compassion, as she had felt the same hunger – and she knew the soldiers would be nothing short of cruel.

      “Let the boy go,” the heavyset merchant said calmly with the gesture of a hand, his gold ring catching the sunlight. “I can afford to give him an apple. I have hundreds of apples.” He chuckled a little, as if to make light of the situation.

      But the crowd gathered around and quieted as the soldiers turned to confront the merchant, their shiny armor rattling. Ceres’s heart dropped for the merchant – she knew that one never risked confronting the Empire.

      The soldier stepped forward menacingly toward the merchant.

      “You defend a criminal?”

      The merchant looked back and forth between the two of them, now seeming unsure. The soldier then turned and hit the boy across the face with a sickening crack that made Ceres shiver.

      The boy fell to the ground with a thump as the crowd gasped.

      Pointing at the merchant, the soldier said, “To prove your loyalty to the Empire, you will hold the boy while we flog him.”

      The merchant’s eyes turned hard, his brow sweaty. To Ceres’s surprise, he held his ground.

      “No,” he replied.

      The second soldier took two threatening steps toward the merchant and his hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

      “Do it, or you lose your head and we burn your shop down,” the soldier said.

      The merchant’s round face went limp, and Ceres could tell he was defeated.

      He slowly walked over to the boy and grabbed the boy’s arms, kneeling in front of him.

      “Please forgive me,” he said, tears brimming in his eyes.

      The boy whimpered and then started to scream as he tried to wring himself free from his grip.

      Ceres could see the child was shaking. She wanted to keep moving toward the Stade, to avoid witnessing this, but instead, her feet stood frozen in the middle of the square, eyes glued to the brutality.

      The first soldier tore the boy’s tunic open while the second soldier whirled a flogger above his head. Most onlookers cheered the soldiers on, although a few murmured and walked away with heads hung low.

      None defended the thief.

      With a greedy, almost maddening expression, the soldier thrashed the whip against the boy’s back, causing him to shriek in pain as they flogged him. Blood oozed out of the fresh lacerations. Again and again, the soldier flogged until the boy’s head was sagging backward and he no longer screamed.

      Ceres felt the strong urge to rush forward and save the boy. Yet to do so, she knew, would mean her death, and the death of all those she loved. She slumped her shoulders, feeling hopeless and defeated. Inwardly, she resolved to take revenge one day.

      She СКАЧАТЬ