Page 159 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Then she walked away.
Dawn had no idea where she was headed and suspected Alina did not either. But Mareena followed without hesitation, robes whispering over the sand.
With a frustrated exhale, Kai went after them.
And, very reluctantly, Dawn followed too.
‘She’s going to get herself killed,’ Dawn muttered as they hurried out of the arena and through a smaller door than the one the king had used.
Servants materialised as if conjured from the stone itself, bowing low and gesturing for them to follow. Alina moved after them in silence, her shoulders drawn tight with iron resolve. Dawn felt torn in two with a fierce urge to seize Alina by the shoulders and shake sense into her, and an equally fierce need to wrap her in her arms and hold her there.
‘Not if I can help it,’ Kai said evenly beside her. ‘She’s been training. She stands a chance.’
Dawn bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to believe him.She truly did. But the image of Saren—the coiled muscle beneath scarred skin, the predator’s ease in her stance—would not leave her mind.
Over her shoulder, Dawn caught sight of Isla and Arena lingering behind, engaged in a heated exchange with the king’s son. His expression was thunderous, jaw clenched as he spoke sharply. The two Dunayans bowed their heads at last, chastened.
Dawn frowned at the strange interaction, curiosity stirring. Something about it felt… off.
Before she could dwell on it, Kai’s hand tightened around hers and he tugged her further down the narrow stone corridor. The scent of dust and old rock swallowed her thoughts. And, for the moment, she let them go.
The corridors on the same level as the arena were little more than veins of shadow—narrow, dimly lit passageways where the stone pressed close on either side. But as they climbed higher, the space widened, breathing open into something far grander and far more suffocating.
Dawn slowed despite herself, staring in reluctant fascination at the sheer press of desert folk crammed into the upper levels. Bodies brushed past in constant motion, voices rose and tangled in the air, and the scent of food struck her like a physical force. Every few steps another tavern flung open its doors, each one offering some strange and glistening dish—skewered meats dripping with oil, flatbreads steaming beneath spiced sauces, candied fruits shining like jewels under torchlight.
Between the taverns, betting houses stood shoulder to shoulder, their entrances crowded with eager patrons pressing coin into waiting hands. Men and women hurried in and out, voices sharp with excitement, wagering fortunes on the blood that would soon stain the arena floor.
Dawn quickly realised that the north was nothing like thewandering desert she had crossed before. The clothing here reflected permanence. No long, sand-bound robes or tightly wrapped travelling gear. Instead, fabrics were loose and flowing, shorter and broader, made for heat trapped within stone rather than wind sweeping over dunes. Here, the desert folk did not traverse endless sands on serpents or scorpions.
They gambled.
Many bore the look of fighters with thick forearms, broken noses, scarred knuckles. Dawn noticed a hunched old woman crouched beside a cage of trembling animals, her voice shrill as she advertised them for purchase. For training. For slaughter.
Dawn turned away sharply, bile rising in her throat.
This city did not merely host violence. It fed on it.
‘I don’t think I like this place,’ Dawn muttered as they climbed yet another flight of steps, the noise of the arena rising and falling beneath them like some restless beast.
At the next level, a servant led them down a long corridor lined with heavy wooden doors. The air here was quieter and thicker.
‘These chambers are reserved for the fighters,’ the servant explained, bowing before retreating.
Dawn understood immediately. They were not to be housed alongside the king. To give Alina rooms fit for royalty would be a provocation, a blade twisted in old wounds. The desert folk would not take kindly to Hessa’s supposed killer sleeping in comfort.
Kai pushed open one of the narrow doors and stepped inside. The room was small—stone walls, a washbasin, no window—and in the centre, a modest double bed.
‘I could get used to this,’ he said lightly.
Dawn folded her arms. ‘We are not sharing that.’
Before she could protest further, Alina and Mareenahad already disappeared into the adjoining chamber. The door shut with quiet finality.
Kai chuckled and placed a hand at the small of Dawn’s back, guiding—no, pushing—her inside.
‘I’ll sleep on the floor. Don’t panic,’ he said, amusement dancing in his eyes.
‘We can’t share a room.’
