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Authors: Olivia Rivers
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replaces the confusion with his usual stoic expression. He’s not going to disagree with Father, not if he doesn’t want to be slain on the spot. He steps to the edge of the booth, and holds up a hand. Below him, other guards move into place.
I can’t see them, but I know how this works: All Jolik needs to do is lower his hand. It’s that simple. The other guards, hidden in turrets at the top of the arena wall, will fire off their arrows. Eleven archers usually surround the wall. Eleven arrows through Lor’s heart.
“You can’t do this,” I say to Father.
He turns to me, his jaw gritted so hard it looks painful. "I can do
anything
I want.”
Lor is still lying on his back, a tired grin on his face. He’s staring up at the sky, oblivious to the archers surrounding him. I see his chest move up and down. He’s laughing, probably too relieved to care about the pain that must be ripping through his side.
Father’s expression hardens when he sees Lor’s laughter. “Give the order!”
“No,” I say.
Jolik’s hand wavers, his eyes intent on Lor. I can picture the dilemma running through his mind: Kill Lor, now a hero in the eyes of the crowd, and face the anger of a mass of citizens. Or let Lor live, and face Father.
He starts to let his hand fall.
“Wait!” I scream. I can still save Lor. There’s only one way to do it, and it’s the one thing I swore I’d never do.
But I have to. Ashe would understand.
Wouldn’t he?
Jolik’s hand stops. One of the guards below lets loose an arrow, confused by the order, but it goes wide. Lor doesn’t notice as the arrowhead impales the ground just feet from his head.
“Don’t listen to her,” Father says. “Kill him! That Angel has no right to breathe the air of my country.”
I turn to Father, reaching over and grabbing his arm. He tries to shake me off, but I dig my fingers in until he whirls toward me.
“What is
wrong
, Faye?” he demands.
“By the power bestowed onto me by my royal blood, I now choose my Guardian,” I say.
Father does his best to smile at me, but it looks more like a snarl. “It’s not time for that yet, Faye.”
I point down to the arena floor, raising my voice so everyone in the surrounding booths will hear. “I Choose Lor, Angel of the Forbidden Lands. Let him be my Guardian now and for eternity.”
Nine
I never knew how much chaos a few simple words could cause.
The moment Jolik hears me, he calls off the archers and turns to face me. He looks shocked, stunned, maybe a little angry.
“You
what
?” Father growls. His voice is low and gravelly, his eyes narrowed. He grabs my shoulders. “Take it back. Take back what you just said, or I swear I’ll disown you and cast you out of this kingdom!”
My stomach churns, even though I know the ancient laws protect me from his threats. Besides, everyone around me must have heard what I said. They won’t let me take back my words; the penalty is death for defying a tradition as strong as the Choosing.
“No,” I say, my voice a little quieter, but still loud enough to carry. “I Choose Lor.” I point again to Lor’s prone figure. He’s finally noticed the arrow next to his head, and frowns at it with a perplexed expression.
Father shakes me, making me bite my tongue. Wonderful. Now both my lip and my tongue are bleeding.
“I told you,” he hisses. “You could Choose any of the three men I selected.” He follows my gaze to Lor, and his face twists with disgust. “That Angel is
not
one of those men.”
I widen my eyes and look down, doing my best to look like an innocent child receiving a scolding. But my heart won’t stop pounding, and my lungs just keep gasping for air. It takes me a moment to realize I’m shaking.
I’m not sure what does it. Maybe it’s the shaking, or maybe my attempt at a pitiful look. Whatever it is, Father lets go of my shoulders and pulls away.
He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "I should have known better than to
I can’t see them, but I know how this works: All Jolik needs to do is lower his hand. It’s that simple. The other guards, hidden in turrets at the top of the arena wall, will fire off their arrows. Eleven archers usually surround the wall. Eleven arrows through Lor’s heart.
“You can’t do this,” I say to Father.
He turns to me, his jaw gritted so hard it looks painful. "I can do
anything
I want.”
Lor is still lying on his back, a tired grin on his face. He’s staring up at the sky, oblivious to the archers surrounding him. I see his chest move up and down. He’s laughing, probably too relieved to care about the pain that must be ripping through his side.
Father’s expression hardens when he sees Lor’s laughter. “Give the order!”
“No,” I say.
Jolik’s hand wavers, his eyes intent on Lor. I can picture the dilemma running through his mind: Kill Lor, now a hero in the eyes of the crowd, and face the anger of a mass of citizens. Or let Lor live, and face Father.
He starts to let his hand fall.
“Wait!” I scream. I can still save Lor. There’s only one way to do it, and it’s the one thing I swore I’d never do.
But I have to. Ashe would understand.
Wouldn’t he?
Jolik’s hand stops. One of the guards below lets loose an arrow, confused by the order, but it goes wide. Lor doesn’t notice as the arrowhead impales the ground just feet from his head.
“Don’t listen to her,” Father says. “Kill him! That Angel has no right to breathe the air of my country.”
I turn to Father, reaching over and grabbing his arm. He tries to shake me off, but I dig my fingers in until he whirls toward me.
“What is
wrong
, Faye?” he demands.
“By the power bestowed onto me by my royal blood, I now choose my Guardian,” I say.
Father does his best to smile at me, but it looks more like a snarl. “It’s not time for that yet, Faye.”
I point down to the arena floor, raising my voice so everyone in the surrounding booths will hear. “I Choose Lor, Angel of the Forbidden Lands. Let him be my Guardian now and for eternity.”
Nine
I never knew how much chaos a few simple words could cause.
The moment Jolik hears me, he calls off the archers and turns to face me. He looks shocked, stunned, maybe a little angry.
“You
what
?” Father growls. His voice is low and gravelly, his eyes narrowed. He grabs my shoulders. “Take it back. Take back what you just said, or I swear I’ll disown you and cast you out of this kingdom!”
My stomach churns, even though I know the ancient laws protect me from his threats. Besides, everyone around me must have heard what I said. They won’t let me take back my words; the penalty is death for defying a tradition as strong as the Choosing.
“No,” I say, my voice a little quieter, but still loud enough to carry. “I Choose Lor.” I point again to Lor’s prone figure. He’s finally noticed the arrow next to his head, and frowns at it with a perplexed expression.
Father shakes me, making me bite my tongue. Wonderful. Now both my lip and my tongue are bleeding.
“I told you,” he hisses. “You could Choose any of the three men I selected.” He follows my gaze to Lor, and his face twists with disgust. “That Angel is
not
one of those men.”
I widen my eyes and look down, doing my best to look like an innocent child receiving a scolding. But my heart won’t stop pounding, and my lungs just keep gasping for air. It takes me a moment to realize I’m shaking.
I’m not sure what does it. Maybe it’s the shaking, or maybe my attempt at a pitiful look. Whatever it is, Father lets go of my shoulders and pulls away.
He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "I should have known better than to
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