Chapter 55 Konstatin’s test
“Have any idea why he's doing this?” Isabella whispered to Lucien as they walked to the arena.
The guard who had shown them to their quarters…room, had knocked on the door this morning, saying Konstatin needed their presence.
Lucien grunted. “I have an idea, but I need to confirm.”
“This isn't his palace.” She observed loudly as they walked. “This is… oh my God,” she stopped abruptly, her mouth wide open.
“This is insane,” she muttered. “What the hell?” Her eyes travelled around as she took in all that was before her.
Like rhe gates, the ground was red, possibly with dried blood of all the enemies they had killed.
The walls, high, were also built with red bricks. “Are you sure these people are a part of us?” Isabella whispered, ensuring that only Lucien was liable to hear her.
“They seem a bit…primitive.”
Lucien chuckled at her innocence. “That, I agree.” He said, his face turning into a smirk.
“And,” Isabella continued, obviously not done. “They…”
“We'll begin, once His Majesty and his Lady are done whispering.” Konstatin’s voice mocked them from above, eliciting laughter from the guards who sat around the place, forming a huge circle.
“Welcome, King Lucien Blackthorn and Lady Isabella Thorne.” He said, bowing slightly.
Lucien grunted, nodding in acknowledgement while Isabella waved.
“You need my help.” Konstatin began. “And we, the men of the Red Walls do not offer our help to people who are not deserving of it.”
There were cheers of agreement and strange guttural noises that made Isabella sick in the stomach.
“Lady Isabella,” Konstatin called.
Isabella whipped her head up, surprised that he'd called her first.
“Are you ready?”
She narrowed her brows. “Ready for what, exactly?”
Konstatin ignored her. “Amelia!” He roared.
There were chants of jubilation among the men. The grounds shook as a woman stepped forward.
She was dressed differently from the other women Isabella had seen since she set foot into the Red Walls. But that wasn't it.
This Amelia woman was filled with scars. On her cheeks, her back, her arms and even her thighs.
As she walked, her eyes flickered at Isabella with disdain. One that she did not try to hide.
“Lady Isabella,” Konstatin began. “This is Amelia. Our Lady Champion.”
The Lady Champion called Amelia beat her chest, growling as she walked around, saliva dropping.
The men cheered, shouting as Amelia showed herself off.
Isabella leaned into Lucien. “I thought there were no women…” she trailed.
“I thought so too. It appears they've left me behind.” He said, a bitter smile on his face.
“Tsk,” She rolled her eyes at him and returned her attention to the men who had reduced their noise.
Amelia continued walking around, beating her chest, the saliva still pouring.
Isabella shuddered. “I really hope she's not going to touch me with that hand.”
Despite the situation on the ground, Lucien giggled. “I think you have better things to worry about, darling.” He couldn't believe Isabella was more worried about Amelia's hygiene than she was about being killed.
Isabella shook her head, pursing her lips. “This too, is important.”
“Alright, alright,” Konstatin called from the podium, where he sat, flanked by four slaves. “Enough of the jubilation. We can jubilate later.”
Isabella did not miss the meaning of his words. She stiffened, clenching her hands.
“Easy,” Lucien whispered as he took her hands in his. “He's trying to rile you up. Do not give him the chance to.”
She snickered.
“To get our support, the esteemed Lady Isabella will have to fight Amelia here.”
Celebrated shouts rent the air as the men discussed excitedly amongst themselves.
“They really must be starved.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
“And that's not all,” Konstatin continued amidst the shouts. “To round it up, His Majesty, Lucien Blackthorn and I will face ourselves.”
Lucien's smile was knowing. He knew what Konstatin was trying to achieve.
He nodded in acknowledgement, accepting his host’s challenge.
Konstatin returned the smile as their eyes locked. “We reconverge by four,” Konstatin said, waving his hands as he dismissed them, settling down to allow the girls work on him.
Lucien's hands held Isabella's waist as he guided her back to their quarters. “We need to prepare.”
Isabella bit her lips, holding down her complaints till they were safely in the room.
Sam trailed behind them.
“I can't fight her, Lucien.” She said resolutely the moment they closed the door behind them. “Have you seen her?” She continued when Lucien wouldn't say anything.
“She's not the problem, Isabella.” Lucien's voice was calm, a huge contrast to the quiver in her voice.
“I am the problem?” She narrowed her eyes, glancing at both men. “Nice.” She said raising both her hands in the air dramatically.
Lucien sighed. He had to control this, before it escalated. “That's not what I'm talking about, Isabella and you know it.”
He held her gaze. “Konstatin is only setting this test with Amelia because he wants you to fail. Can't you see it?”
Isabella looked away, her lips pressed together.
Lucien continued, undeterred. “Can't you see it? You just have to say no to fighting and he'll withdraw his support.”
“What's to say that if I lose, he won't withdraw his support?” She rolled her eyes.
“Because you won't lose.”
She scoffed at his next words. “That's a lot of confidence you have in me, right now.”
He ignored her. “Because it's something you can do.”
“I haven't trained in like six months. I can't do this, Lucien.”
“That's why Sam is here,” Lucien said, glancing at Sam who'd just stepped forward. “He's going to help you.”
“How?” She burned. “By fighting Amelia?”
Lucien sighed. He signalled to Sam to excuse them for a moment. “I know you are scared.” He said once they were alone.
Isabella sighed. “I know I thought I could do this, but I can't.” She whispered, tears clouding her eyes. “She's huge, Lucien. She's going to wipe me out the moment I climb up the stage.” The tears dropped.
“No, she won't.” Lucien took her into his arms. “You can do this.”
“You sound so sure,” Isabella protested, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
“Because I am. I believe in you so much, Isabella.”
“You believe in me or you believe in Sam?” She said through her tears.
Lucien stammered. “Well, both of you. I know he's capable of reviving old rusty skills. And you, you are capable of beating up Amelia.”
Isabella chuckled as she sniffed, wiping the tears off her face. “Let's do this, then.” She whispered.
Lucien nodded, patting her back, he said as he kissed the tears off her cheeks before hollering for Sam.
“She's ready.” He said as he handed her over to Sam.
“You're not coming?” Isabella asked in horror.
“I could come check on you later. I have to prepare for mine. “You don't want Konstatin embarrassing me do you?” He said, chuckling.
Isabella widened her eyes. “Later means when?”
Lucien smiled. “Take care of her, Sam. Do not go easy on her.”
“My lady?” Sam stepped forward. “It's time.”
Isabella sighed as she followed him outside into the training ground.
“Here,” Sam said stopping abruptly in the middle before picking up a wooden sword and handing it over to her.
Isabella glanced at the sword, before staring at him. “A wooden sword, really Sam. I'm not that much of a novice.”
Sam grunted. “We'll see about that, My Lady.” He lunged forward, taking the first strike, sending Isabella flying.
Isabella groaned, landing on the floor. “You could have warned me.”
“The enemy won't warn you, My Lady. You have to be attentive.” He said, helping her up.
He lunged again the moment she was up. This time around, she blocked it a little bit too late.
“Better.” He muttered. We're almost there.
Isabella could feel her heart racing. She narrowed her eyes, watching him move, as he lunged again.
The sword was up, blocking him just in time as he landed, pushing him back.
“Good.” He nodded in approval.
“Don't hold back. I won't.” He cautioned, seeing that she was about to falter. “And she definitely won't.”
“I'm not holding back. It's threatening to come out.” She huffed and watched him narrow his eyes.
“Then let it.” He kicked, aiming for her legs as she fell.
She staggered, the sword falling out of her hands. She was about to move when he pointed the tip of the sword at her neck.
“You were distracted.”
“You were talking to me.” She fired back, pushing his outstretched hand away as she stood up by herself.
“She's going to talk to you. That's not an excuse.” He handed the sword back to her.
“Ready?” He asked, accepting her huff as a response.
“Do not hold back. Defend, attack and find the perfect time to strike…”
The words were stuck in his throat, as she struck.
He smiled, blocking her attack. “That's what I'm talking about.” He nodded in approval, pushing her back with one grunt.