It was enough to render everyone silent. Demetrius’s smirk wavered, as if a part of him knew he might not exit victoriously from this fight. It was up to the referees, though, and I worried they might favor him, still.
In the meantime, Kalon convinced Trev to move back, escorting him up the steps and toward our box stall. Whatever he was telling the Rimian, it seemed to soothe him enough to get the twin swords back in their sheaths.
“Demetrius of the Mefithi dynasty!” the announcer said. “You committed murder. Your opponent yielded, and you killed him, nonetheless. You have dishonored your family and the Blood Arena!”
“What?! No! It’s a fair fight! I won!” Demetrius snarled, his face red with anger.
“He yielded!” the announcer replied. “The referees have spoken! You are therefore disqualified from this tournament and barred from participating for the remainder of the year!”
Demetrius bared his fangs in a menacing fashion, prompting some of the silver guards to turn away from the fighters they were trying to keep at bay. They were ready to intervene if Demetrius decided to do something even stupider than what he’d already done.
“People die in these tournaments! It’s not fair that I get punished for this!” he said, unwilling to let this go. He was being berated and humiliated in public. Of course he wasn’t going to drop the issue.
“On top of that, you will pay reparations to Krassus’s family, since they won’t be seeing their father again,” the announcer added, his tone flat, unimpressed by Demetrius’s tantrum. At least they held on to their values and stood up to monsters like him. I had to appreciate that.
“You’re joking.” Demetrius chuckled.
“He yielded, you brainless tree stump!” Trev shouted from above. “You deserve this and much worse! Be thankful you just get to shell out some gold coins!”
“You’re just lucky you won’t be facing me in the final,” Demetrius snapped, pointing an angry finger at the Rimian, who smirked.
“I would’ve enjoyed killing you. It’s a missed opportunity.”
“I’ll see you outside then, and give you another shot,” Demetrius hissed.
“Enough!” Kalon replied. “Take your penalty with whatever dignity you have left! You killed a Nalorean after he yielded. It will forever besmirch your house and your honor.”
“How many fighters participate in these tournaments?” I heard Tristan ask Valaine.
“Hundreds. From smaller houses and dynasties, too, not just from the high seven,” she replied. “These usually end in people getting maimed. Indeed, sometimes they get killed, too—especially the Aeternae. You’d be surprised at how feeble many of us are without our claws and fangs. We’re too used to having them, so weapons feel heavy and clunky by comparison.”
“I can’t believe the Aeternae do this just for the thrill of maybe dying,” Sofia murmured.
“It’s all they have left,” Valaine said. “There are also great honors and fortunes for the winners. Those matter, too.”
“It’s clearly a cultural thing,” Tristan replied. “I get it. I don’t have to like it, but I get it.”
“Valaine fights in the tournaments, as well,” Petra chimed in, smiling at us. Her humor was quick to sink when Demetrius’s voice boomed through the arena.
“Mind your own business, Lord Visentis. I have no interest in dealing with fatherless bloodsuckers such as yourself!”
The silence that followed was death-like. My blood froze as I watched Kalon’s expression shift and darken into something almost unrecognizable. Trev was by his side, and he put a hand on Kalon’s chest in a bid to stop him from doing something he might regret.
“Kalon,” Petra called out, her voice smooth and cautious.
But Kalon didn’t hear her. He didn’t hear anyone. Demetrius had offended him deeply, and I had a feeling that he wasn’t going to get out of here without being torn to pieces by the very Aeternae who’d stopped Trev from avenging Krassus’s death.
“That’s very unwise of you, Lord Mefithi,” Kalon said, turning around to look down at Demetrius, whose smirk broadened. He was itching for a fight, and he struck me as mind-numbingly reckless.
Kalon was right. Demetrius had not come here to win. He’d come here to kill, which was never a sign of a good or honorable fighter. It was the makeup of a psychopath, and now I worried that Kalon had become his new center of interest.
“What are you going to do about it?” Demetrius asked.
The announcer clapped his hands once. “Enough, please! You have done enough harm to this arena today, Demetrius. You are banned from entering this sacred space until the end of the year. Guards, escort him out. A decree will be issued, demanding that he pay the family of the slain Nalorean.”
Demetrius scoffed, sneering at the guards who approached him with caution. They knew him well enough to consider him a risk, even in these circumstances. Nevertheless, he obeyed and made his way up the steps.
The worst part was yet to come, though, as he was about to pass Kalon and Trev.
“Kalon!” Petra shouted, but she still couldn’t get her son’s attention. Demetrius had pushed the right buttons in him.
As he reached Kalon, Demetrius whispered something. Kalon didn’t react, letting him go up the stairs in the company of the silver guards. As soon as he reached the edge of the arena bowl, however, Kalon smiled. “Demetrius!” he shouted, prompting the disgraced fighter to turn around. “I’ll see you at midnight under the full moon, in Black Square. No weapons. To the death.”
My stomach churned.
“Kalon, no!” Petra croaked, her eyes wide with fury and outrage—but not fear for her son’s life, which struck me as rather odd.
Looking around, I noticed Valaine was displeased, but also unconcerned. Chances were that I was more worried about him than anyone else. Probably because I’ve never seen him fight.
“I look forward to it,” Demetrius said, then vanished from sight.
Kalon and Trev exchanged a few more words before they came up to our box stall. With everything that had happened, I didn’t even see the staff members who picked up Krassus’s body and cleared the fighting space.
The announcer said something about a couple of Aeternae-only fights coming up, separate from the tournament and part of a different competition, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was too busy wrapping my head around what had just happened, mystified by Kalon’s reactions and the prospect of him fighting Demetrius to the death.
I’d only just met Kalon, but I reserved the right to dislike the thought of him dying. Even if it bothered me a little more than it should’ve.
Tristan
