“You’ll see.”
The right side of Thanos’s lips rose, and Ceres liked how he spoke to her as if she were an equal.
Even before the fighting began, Ceres knew Thanos was right. Lucious’s feet were too close together, his grip weak around the hilt, and his eyes too unfocused. It would be an embarrassment, to say the least, to watch him lose rather quickly to such a warrior he was facing.
With the first collision of swords, Ceres looked up and kept her gaze on the cloudy sky instead, keeping them there as she heard grunts and blades clashing. The fighting continued on for a while, and Ceres wondered if perhaps she had judged Lucious too harshly. At least Lucious was holding on, if nothing else.
But when Lucious started to scream a few minutes into the fight, and the onlookers murmured and gasped, she couldn’t help but bring her eyes back onto the fighters again. Lucious was lying on the ground, holding the blade of his sword with one hand, the hilt with the other, struggling to keep the combatlord’s sword away from his face. Blood ran down his arm, and he squealed, begging for the round to end.
“Enough!” the king said, and the combatlord retreated.
Lucious’s weapon-keeper ran over to him and offered him a hand, but Lucious smacked it away.
“I can get up myself!” he yelled between gritted teeth, panting and spewing obscenities.
Lucious held his injured hand with the other and rolled onto his stomach before rising to his feet.
“I said I didn’t want to do this!” he yelled toward the king. “And now look what happened! You have made me a fool!”
He stormed across the yard and vanished through the arching doorway into the palace. Most of the dignitaries had quieted, but some of them laughed
“Always such drama with Lucious,” Thanos said, rolling his eyes.
“Next up is Thanos and Oedifus,” an Empire soldier announced.
“Are you ready?” Thanos asked Ceres.
“Yes. Are you?” she replied.
He paused and gave her a sideways glance before saying, “Always. Let me start with the trident and shield.”
She handed him the shield, and after he had secured it onto his arm, she gave him the trident. Her pulse rose as she watched him walk into the center of the practice arena, hoping he would win, but bracing herself in the very likely event he would lose. One did not just simply triumph over a combatlord, and especially not with as little training as Ceres assumed these royals had.
The combatlord was around Thanos’s height, but his muscles were fuller, almost monstrously so, Ceres observed. His arms were covered in scars, his face disfigured from past wounds unevenly healed, and he grunted at Thanos even before the match had begun.
With Thanos’s very first strike, Ceres could tell he was a marvelous warrior, and as the battle continued, as hard as he tried, the combatlord couldn’t get to him. Thanos was so quick to swerve, and quick like a rattlesnake to attack, but he also possessed the strength of an omnicat. Not only did he seem to read his opponent’s mind, his feet moved with the ease of a trained dancer.
The entire match, Thanos was one step ahead of the combatlord, causing the onlookers to cheer with excitement. Ceres judged the trident a great choice for him, but from the way he moved, she believed a longsword would be the weapon granting him victory.
With the next move, the combatlord crouched and whipped one leg across the sand in a circular motion, wiping Thanos’s feet from under him, causing him to fall onto his back. He hopped up to his feet again, but his trident had fallen several feet away.
Faster than she could even think, Ceres picked up the longsword and yelled, “Thanos!”
He glanced at her and she threw the sword to him. Catching it mid-air, Thanos didn’t miss a beat and went after the combatlord with full force. Sparks flew as metal collided with metal, and watching Thanos’s face and neck muscles strain, Ceres clenched her fists as she held her breath.
Retreating, the combatlord snarled and panted, saliva gushing from his mouth, but Thanos did not withdraw. Instead, he hit the combatlord’s sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground so Thanos ended up standing above him with his blade pointed at his challenger’s neck.
With eyes wide open and her heart galloping in her chest, Ceres cheered with the rest of the crowd.
Thanos looked up at the king, his face a stone, and the king squinted his eyes as he leaned over and whispered something to the advisor on his right. With the nod of his uncle, Thanos lowered his sword and stepped out of the training area.
He walked toward her, a new look of admiration and wonder in his eyes. He studied her in silence for several seconds, breathing hard. Finally, he spoke.
“How did you know which weapon to give me?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
“The way you moved,” she said. “It seemed a longsword would suit you.”
Still panting, he watched her closely as he nodded.
Then he strode across the training ground and headed into the palace. For a moment, Ceres wasn’t certain what to make of his strange behavior and his lack of further instructions. Should she stay? Should she leave? She decided to wait until she was released.
A few minutes later, and into the next round, a handler approached her.
“For you, my lady,” he said, holding out a pouch. “An advance from Prince Thanos. If you accept, you have been hired as the prince’s new weapon-keeper. He requests you return tomorrow an hour after dawn at this very spot.”
Ceres held out her hand and after she had received the pouch, she opened it, seeing five pieces of gold. At first, overwrought with joy, she couldn’t speak, but when the handler asked her again if she would accept, she said yes.
“You are at liberty to leave, my lady,” he said, and then he swiveled around and walked back into the palace.
“Thank you,” she said, realizing she was speaking to no one. She glanced up toward the east tower and saw Thanos standing on the balcony watching her. He nodded to her and smiled before heading inside.
With a light heart, she ran from the palace and headed home to pick up her sword. She also planned to secretly give the money to her brothers without their mother finding out, and to bid them a final farewell.
Finally, she was wanted.
Finally, she had a home.
CHAPTER SIX
Ceres carefully peered in through the half-opened shutters, her mouth dry, eyes peeled for her mother. She had run home as nightfall descended on Delos, the clear skies above turning pink and lavender. Her eagerness to present the gold to her brothers had fueled each step. Aching with hunger, she had considered using one of the gold coins to purchase food, but was afraid to bump into her mother at the market.
With ears pinned for sounds or voices, she glanced further into the dim house. Not a soul was in sight. Where could Nesos and Sartes be? Usually, they were home at this time while Mother was away. Perhaps if she retrieved her sword first, her brothers would return by then.
Careful not to make a sound, she slunk around to the rear of the house, past her grandmother’s tree and toward the shed. The door creaked when she opened it, and once inside the stuffy shack, she headed straight toward the corner. Kneeling down beside the floorboard, she lifted it up and fished out her sword. She breathed with relief to see it was still there.
For a moment Ceres sat and admired its beauty, the mixed metals, the shiny, thin, unblemished blade, the golden hilt adorned with serpents. The craftsmanship was after the manner of the northerners, her father had said. She would carry this sword with honor, always remembering the great love her father had for her.
She slid it into its sheath, secured it around her waist with a scabbard, and headed outside.
Seeing no one was there, she made her way to the front of the house again, and this time went in through the front door. The house was shadowy, the hearth unlit, and mounds of fruits, vegetables, meats, and baked goods decked the table, all no doubt bought with the gold gained by selling her life. Their savory aroma filled the room. She strode over to the food, picked up a loaf of bread, and devoured a few bites. Her stomach had churned for days.