“Still, he may potentially rule your realm, marry your Daughter. No Ethyuan would consider a suitor covered in such marks.”
“It’s a good thing we’re not in Ethyua then, isn’t it?”
“What about the, uh…” The Trogolian King stopped in front of Flynn and snapped his fingers. “The uh…the—”
“Prince,” the Sovereign said. “You’re right to forget him, I haven’t noticed him myself. He hasn’t done much of anything this tournament.”
“He has not killed anyone?” the Monarch asked.
“Not a one.”
The Monarch laughed. “Well then, I will not be betting on him.” He glided up to Tobias. “And what of the Artist?”
The Sovereign’s face sank into a glower. “A man living on borrowed time.”
“You think he will die tomorrow?”
“I’m rather confident in that, yes.”
“Isn’t he the one your people hold up banners for?” The Trogolian King joined them, his hands on his hips. “The handprints in the…in the X shape. Is that right?”
“Indeed,” the Sovereign mumbled.
“Hm. Interesting.” The King squinted. “I expected him to be more impressive in person.”
“I think he’s impressive.” Rosebud shimmied between the men, planting her hands on Tobias’s pecs. “You’re all vicious, aren’t you? Savage animals that take whatever they please.”
“Rosebud, they’re hardly savage. One of these men will go on to rule this very realm.”
“Don’t ruin this for me.” She turned back to Tobias, smiling coyly. “Tell me, have you killed anyone before?”
The path of her fingers burned through him, and he was certain her touch left him blistered. “Yes.”
“Oh my. How did it feel?”
“Necessary.”
Her hands snaked up his shoulders. “Will you kill again?”
“If I have to.”
She glanced at the Kovahrian Queen and bit down on her fist. “Listen to him. So fierce. I’m trembling.” Giggling, she looped her arms around him. “Tell me, if you could have me do anything to you right now, what would it be?”
“I’d have you take your hands off me.”
The girl flinched, staggering backward. “I beg your pardon?” She spun toward her husband. “Did you hear what this creature said to your Queen?”
The King frowned, failing to appear formidable. “What did you say to my wife?”
“I believe I answered her question.”
The Sovereign sighed. “Please excuse the Artist. He’s a deplorable cunt. Hasn’t any pride or respect.”
“Then why is he here?” the King snapped. “Just hang the brute. Make an example of him.”
“His death belongs in the tournament.”
“And is this not your tournament?”
“His people love Artist,” the Kovahrian Queen said. “If he kills him, he angers realm. If Artist fall in tournament, they blame, eh…fate.” She eyed the Sovereign, a single eyebrow raised. “Yes?”
The Sovereign stared back at her challengingly, but he didn’t respond.
“No more squabbling, it is tiresome. I came here for pleasure—for blood and coin.” The Monarch stopped in front of Drake. “You. Dragon. Who wins tomorrow?”
“I do,” Drake said.
“And why is that?”
“I cannot lose.” His voice came out hard, assured. “I cannot be killed.”
“And who dies?”
“The Artist. By my hand.”
The Monarch squeezed the Sovereign’s shoulder. “I see you are not the only one who hates him. What about the Shepherd. Your thoughts? Who wins, and who dies?”
“The glory will surely go to myself or the Dragon,” Kaleo said. “It’s simply a matter of who gets his hands on the Artist first, though I do hope I’m able to do the honors. I’ve been so looking forward to it.”
The Monarch chuckled. “I like this one. He has charisma.” He turned to Flynn. “Prince, do you agree? Does the Artist die tomorrow?”
Flynn went rigid, his anger palpable. “Yes.”
“And why is that?”
“Because we all hate him. And we will all try to kill him.”
“You hate him?” The Kovahrian Queen wove her way in front of him. “One of your laurelites is Friend of Artist.”
Flynn’s jaw tightened. “An assumption made by an audience who didn’t know any better. He is my enemy.”
“He saved your life, yes?”
“One kindness does not eliminate countless misdeeds.”
The Queen eyed him up and down, then turned to Tobias. “Why did you save him?”
“On which occasion?” Tobias scoffed.
“Oh, don’t waste your time with him, he’s foul,” the Trogolian King spat.
“Nonsense, he entertains me.” The Monarch slid up to Tobias. “Tell me, Artist, how does it feel hearing that everyone here wants to kill you?”
Tobias barely grunted in response. “Familiar.”
“They say you lose tomorrow, but I am a gambler, and I enjoy taking risks.” His eyes panned over Tobias like a film. “Why should I put my coin on you?”
“You shouldn’t. The odds are against me, after all.”