Морган Райс
Slave, Warrior, Queen
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
Ceres sat in the dungeon on the damp floor, her back against the cold stone wall, fully defeated as an endless stream of tears trailed down her face. How – how was she to continue on? Thanos had left her. Nesos was dead. And worst of all, Rexus…
She let out a faint sob and inhaled a jagged breath as the memory came rushing back. Rexus, shot in the back, falling from her reach, backwards, out of the tower window. Torn away from her when they had been so close, so close to starting a new life together.
It was too cruel.
Ceres sobbed. There was nothing more to fear now, she realized. Not even her life mattered anymore, it seemed.
She did not know how much time had passed when she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. She didn’t move. She was beyond caring what the royals did to her, so much so that if they were coming to kill her, she would welcome the merciful death.
A woman and three men appeared on the other side of the bars. Ceres refused to look up, but she knew from the overly sweet rose perfume that the woman was Stephania.
An Empire soldier unlocked the cell, but Ceres’s gaze remained on the floor. She would not acknowledge them.
“You have been ordered to the Stade,” an Empire soldier said.
Ceres didn’t move.
“You will compete in the Killings.”
Ceres felt the life rush out of her. So. They would kill her after all.
The soldier grabbed her by the arm, jerked her to a standing position, and bound her wrists behind her back. When Ceres finally looked up, she saw Stephania smiling.
Stephania stepped forward.
“Before you die,” she said, venom in her voice, “I thought you might like to know something.”
She leaned in close, her breath uncomfortably hot on Ceres’s neck.
“I sent a messenger to Haylon,” she said, “bearing a very special message. I told Thanos never to defy me. Never to make a fool of me. Now, finally, he has learned why.”
She beamed, satisfied, though Ceres did not know why.
“Thanos,” she said, “is dead.”
*
The Empire soldiers hauled Ceres through the musty dungeon corridor and up the stairwell. They dragged Ceres outside and led her to an enclosed horse-pulled wagon. Once the door was locked and the soldiers had taken their seats at the front, the wagon rolled out of the palace courtyard and onto the streets of Delos. They passed houses, and weaved through hordes of citizens making their way to the Stade.
Ceres hardly took notice of her surroundings; everything passed by in a blur. Nothing mattered anymore. Everyone she loved was either far away or dead.
In a daze, she realized they were moving through Fountain Square, and Rexus’s face flashed before her eyes. Just weeks ago they were here, happy, hopeful, free.
And just yesterday, he had been in her arms, professing his love; and a moment later, he had fallen to his death. How could a being so vibrant, so alive, now be nothing more than a memory?
Outside the Stade, the wagon creaked to a halt. An Empire soldier dragged her out of the cart and into the tunnels.
They marched past combatlords and weapon-keepers, the chants of the crowd reaching her all the way down here.
Finally, the soldier threw her into a small chamber and ordered her to change into the armor lying on the bench. He left, locking the door behind him.
Alone, Ceres undressed and slipped on the leather skirt and breastplate. They were studded with gold, and were soft and new, she could see, custom made for her, fitting perfectly. She pulled on the boots, noticing they were also her size, the leather supple, the ends of the laces embellished with gold.
All these years she had dreamt of becoming a combatlord, of wielding a sword in an arena in front of thousands of spectators.
And yet now, she hated being here. Somehow, the king and queen had stolen her dream, tarnished it, and had forced her to fight for the very people she despised.
Not a minute later, the Empire soldier returned and ordered her to follow.
They walked through the dim tunnel, past weapons, past dozens of fallen combatlords and their weapon-keepers. Arriving by the gate, Ceres heard the crowd roaring outside, and her stomach clenched tightly.
“Paulo will be your weapon-keeper,” the Empire soldier said.
She turned to see Paulo, rather short in stature, nothing but a bundle of muscle with dark smooth skin. His black hair framed a heart-shaped face, and he had a few whiskers on his chin below full lips.
“It will be an honor to serve you,” Paulo said with a nod, handing her a sword.
Ceres didn’t want to reply. She didn’t want this to be her reality.
“Ceres and Paulo are next!” an Empire soldier called.
Even though Ceres no longer feared for her life, her hands shook, as her throat dried up.
The iron gates opened with a rattle, and Ceres looked out into the arena and saw two Empire soldiers hauling a dead combatlord toward the tunnels.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the Stade.
The roar was deafening, the sunlight warm against her skin, the brightness stinging her eyes as she scanned the over-packed audience.
“Ceres! Ceres! Ceres!” they chanted.
As her eyes grew accustomed to the sunlight, she let her gaze wander across the arena. On the other side of the stadium stood a barbarian of a combatlord, his arms as thick as Ceres’s waist, the veins in his legs bulging on top of thick, swollen muscles.
She clenched the hilt of her sword and knew that this man would kill her. She glanced at Paulo, and saw his face had fallen.
But she would not back down.
With all the courage she had inside of her, she raised her sword.
Her entire life she had been a slave. And now, even though she may very well die, that part of her life, she realized, was over.
Now, finally, she would go from Slave to Warrior.
Now, death would come for her.
And now her life would begin.
The crowd roared.
“CERES! CERES! CERES!”
COMING SOON!
Book #2 in Of Crowns and Glory
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Books by Morgan Rice
THE WAY OF STEEL
ONLY THE WORTHY (Book #1)
OF CROWNS AND GLORY
SLAVE, WARRIOR, QUEEN (Book #1)
KINGS AND SORCERERS
RISE OF THE DRAGONS (Book #1)
RISE OF THE VALIANT (Book #2)
THE WEIGHT OF HONOR (Book #3)
A FORGE OF VALOR (Book #4)
A REALM OF SHADOWS (Book #5)
NIGHT OF THE BOLD (Book #6)
THE SORCERER’S RING
A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1)
A MARCH OF KINGS (Book #2)
A FATE OF DRAGONS (Book #3)
A CRY OF HONOR (Book #4)
A VOW OF GLORY (Book #5)
A CHARGE OF VALOR (Book #6)
A RITE OF SWORDS (Book #7)
A GRANT OF ARMS (Book #8)
A SKY OF SPELLS (Book #9)
A SEA OF SHIELDS (Book #10)
A REIGN OF STEEL (Book #11)
A LAND OF FIRE (Book #12)
A RULE OF QUEENS (Book #13)
AN OATH OF BROTHERS (Book #14)
A DREAM OF MORTALS (Book #15)
A JOUST OF KNIGHTS (Book #16)
THE GIFT OF BATTLE (Book #17)
THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY
ARENA ONE: SLAVERSUNNERS (Book #1)
ARENA TWO (Book #2)
ARENA THREE (Book #3)
VAMPIRE, FALLEN
BEFORE DAWN (Book #1)
THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS
TURNED (Book #1)
LOVED (Book #2)
BETRAYED (Book #3)
DESTINED (Book #4)
DESIRED (Book #5)
BETROTHED (Book #6)
VOWED (Book #7)
FOUND (Book #8)
RESURRECTED (Book #9)
CRAVED (Book #10)
FATED (Book #11)
OBSESSED (Book #12)
About Morgan Rice
Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising twelve books; of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); of the epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS, comprising six books; and of the new epic fantasy series OF CROWNS AND GLORY. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages.
Morgan loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.morganricebooks.comwww.morganricebooks.com to join the email list, receive a free book, receive free giveaways, download the free app, get the latest exclusive news, connect on Facebook and Twitter, and stay in touch!
