I reached for it, but he pulled it back.

My distorted reflection showed a face not unlike my mother’s, though clad in thick gladiator gear. A true mix of my mother and father, who would continue to lead the Achran people back to prosperity. I’d stood a little straighter.

“I brought this to show you what awaits you at the end of this journey,” my father said. “Let it inspire your fight today.”

I had nodded.

My father hadn’t brought the crown out since, but it was because I’d won the first fight so quickly; my father knew I didn’t need to be spurred on. I would uphold his legacy—my family’s legacy—by winning the throne.

The memory faded as the door to the gladiator preparation room swung open, screeching as the joints ground against the sand caught in them. Rodric didn’t wait to be invited in. To him, I was his pupil, not the princess. Latia lowered her gaze and backed away so quickly she nearly knocked a pitcher of water off the table.

Rodric smirked.

“Ready for battle?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, grabbing my helmet and shield and following Rodric out the door. The heat in my blood had risen with the sun, as though my body could sense the fight to come. My veins thrummed with life, coursing just beneath the surface, ready to respond when I raised my blade.

We emerged into the cool tunnel under the arena that stretched all the way to the gated entrance leading to the city streets. Past the contingent of guards who had escorted me from the palace, I could just make out the mass of scrawny arms clutching at nothing through the bars.

The guards used their spears and swords to keep back anyone who tried too hard to get into the stadium, although I couldn’t fathom what they expected to find inside. The tunnel’s only offshoots were the prep area I’d just vacated, which held little of material value, and the tunnel used to lead the tigers from the palace dungeons to the arena.

I ignored the crowd and pulled on my helmet, moving farther down the tunnel. The closer I got to the closed doors, the more claw marks lined the walls. My fingers had sunk past my first knuckle when I’d run my fingers down those grooves before my first fight. The wounds my sword left behind always seemed thin and shallow in comparison after that.

I stepped past the cage-like bars that kept the tigers in place when they were needed for arena judgments. The tunnel smelled like the cages, the heavy odor of sweat mixed with unwashed fur.

The door I stood behind now was the door that had concealed the goods won by the Desert Boy. I let the thought spread anger through me.

“Remember,” Rodric said, banging my helmet to bring my attention to him, “he’s got a weak right side, but he’s big. Don’t let him use his bulk against you.”