Caben has fended him off by meeting the guy’s crushing blow with his fist, right in his kidneys. The prince raises his hand, palm flat and fingers in hard lines, and chops the back of Tree Man’s neck. The guy falls to the ground, grabbing his head.
My eyes widen. What the goddess?
As Tree Man tries to recover, Caben pitches dirt in his face and tackles him from the back. He straddles him, pulling the guy’s feet toward his mid-section in a wrestling hold. A harsh wail rips from Tree Man’s mouth, and he reaches behind him to get a grasp on his foe.
I barely hear the shouts from the stadium as my heart hammers in my ears.
Tree Man finally gets ahold of the prince’s tunic and yanks him backward, throwing the prince off him. Caben rolls to a stop and rights himself onto his knees.
Stand up.
The prince stays close to the ground. Tree Man advances toward him with long strides and reaches down. Caben ducks and latches on to Tree Man’s ankles, pulling the guy’s feet from under him. Tree Man lands on his back, and the prince rises up and bends the guy’s legs toward his face.
Caben has him in some kind of locked hold that Tree Man can’t maneuver out of. Caben only releases him when he bounds up to land a blow. He elbows the guy’s throat, and my own throat tightens in response.
Clutching his neck, Tree Man kicks himself along the ground, out of the prince’s reach. But Caben doesn’t allow him to move far. He grabs ahold of Tree Man’s foot and drags him back to the center of the Cage. Then Caben lifts his arms to the rooting spectators.
He turns his head in the direction of the chamber, seeking me. Our eyes meet briefly—and with a small hike of his lips, he lands the finishing blow to Tree Man’s head.
Tree Man lies limp, his thin, knobby limbs splayed out around him. Caben rises to meet the announcer entering the center of the Cage. The leather-clad Otherworlder says something to the prince away from his mic, then laughs . . . laughs . . . and looks to the crowd.
“Our victor,” the announcers says, his voice booming. “The Colossal, The Prince of Pain!”
The shower stalls are separate and enclosed. Thank the goddesses for small mercies.
I step onto the cold, rough stone floor of the bathing area, and a glass door slides shut behind me. Our bathing facilities have five shower encasings, and the glass stalls are painted black, so that we’re given privacy. This area is the farthest away from the master cell, which is what Bax calls our mingling quarters. The tunnels and chambers go on for what feels like miles. I haven’t explored them all yet.
Glancing around, I locate a metal locker to store my clothing. I open it and strip down, careful not to bend my back too far, then place my ruined uniform and chest harness inside. My mind flashes to the morning when I eagerly and proudly dressed for the protector ceremony, and my heart aches. That morning feels like a lifetime ago. I wish I would’ve said something more to my mother. Assured her that I never blamed her for all those years of suffering at the hands of my father.
Because she suffered, too.
There’s a plain blue tunic and matching pants in the locker, and I know this will be my new uniform from now on. I slip my fingers down the ribbed, worn cotton, and am thankful it’s at least not polyester. That irritating material always brought out the mercury more than any other.
A loud beep sounds and sprayer nozzles along the sides of the stone walls turn on, blasting lukewarm water in different angles. I brace my hands against the wall and hang my head, allowing the water to pelt the layers of dirt away.
I lost my temper in the Cage. Carnage, like the rest of us, is a prisoner. Forced to fight and kill for the sake of his own life. Maybe he has a family somewhere. Maybe he’s just trying to win like everyone else here so he can obtain this freedom ring and go back to them.
Clamping my eyes shut, I try to push the surfacing image of my father’s angry face from my mind. I can’t allow my temper to best me in this place. Although, I can’t lose and die either. I have to make sure the prince returns to his kingdom; unharmed. And I have a family to return to, also. I wonder if my father is in a new ward, being taken care of by someone. Whether or not my mother is with him, helping to feed him when his mind wanders.
The conflicting emotions become too much and my chest constricts. I slam my fist against the wall. Then again.
The showerheads cut off automatically, and I wrap my arms around myself, searching for a towel. There isn’t one. I grab my new clothes from the locker and fight my drenched limbs into them. Then I ball my protector uniform up and put it under my arm.
Another beep, and the door slides open. One of the contenders walks past, and I follow behind him down the long stretch of dimly lit tunnel. He’s one of the feather-tatted men. He leads me to the master cell where he then tosses back a flap to a chamber and walks inside, pulling the curtain closed behind him.
The cell is empty, and I assume everyone is in one of the chambers. But then I hear noises coming from the side of the master cell that leads to the large room. I bunch my uniform up and slip it under a discarded blanket, then walk over to the opening in the wall.
Thin strips of black lights run along corners and edges of the large, blocked off area. The ceiling reaches as high as one of the rock buildings outside, and there are tables and chairs.
And weapons.
One wall is covered with swords, spears, battles axes, maces, and other weapons I’ve never seen before.
A training ground.
“See something you like,” the prince says near my ear.
I spin around. “No. But you can explain that show in the Cage.” I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him.