Chapter 171: Rewarding game
[ The outer courtyard - Skarthheim ]
The field was bathed in twilight gold as Kieran strolled down the winding dirt path towards the newly constructed makeshift arena.
Unlike the last time, the place looked far more organised.There were raised wooden seating arranged in gallery tiers circling a sunken central rink that was rimmed with iron torches, flickering as if hungry.
A faint breeze carried the scent of hay, steel, and anticipation.
Kieran adjusted the scarf around his neck as his boots thudded against the packed dirt. His dark eyes swept over the preparations, noting the precise symmetry, the guards stationed at every third stair, and the hush of excitement rippling through the settling crowd.
Just as he neared the performers’ tent, a hand grabbed him by the arm and yanked him behind one of the stage curtains.
"Where the fuck were you?" Velor hissed, his eyes sharp with suspicion. "You were gone for more than half an hour. They called your name repeatedly for head count.I lied. Told them you were having an upset stomach." Kieran spared him a frown. "Don’t tell me you were..." Velor’s eyes narrowed..." You went to see her?"
Kieran didn’t respond. His jaw clenched, and he shook Velor’s hand off without sparing a single word.
Velor scoffed and leaned in closer, his voice quieter now. "Whatever you are playing at, brother, don’t forget what’s at stake."
Kieran’s eyes flickered at the word ’brother’ for a few seconds...but he remained silent.
He stepped past Velor and joined the rest of the troupe as the horns blew from across the field.
The show had begun.
The ’freaks,’ were led into the rink in formation. Masks, paint, chains, fire props, swords...each had their tools of performance and illusion. They moved like dancers, like warriors, like actors...shapeshifting with the beat of the drums that boomed across the grounds.
From the corner of his eye, Kieran noticed movement in the stands.
He turned just in time to see Autumn walking slowly down the stairs. Her green little dress stood out even amidst the vibrant crowd. She was smiling, relaxed, talking easily with the two men flanking her...Thorgar and Orion. Orion said something that made her laugh, tipping her head slightly.
Kieran’s breath caught.
Something ugly twisted in his chest.
A flick of flame burst higher than it should have from his hand. The crowd erupted in cheers, thinking it was part of the act.
But it wasn’t.
Autumn’s eyes turned sharply towards the blaze...and then found him.
Their gazes locked like magnets clicking into place. Her smile faded, just a little. But she didn’t look away. Neither did he.
Not until Velor shoved him from the side, pulling him back into formation with a growl. "Keep your head."
The performance wound its way to a thunderous end. Swords clashed. Fire roared. Chains snapped. The final scene closed with all the performers bowing together in a semi circle, their faces masked, their movements synchronised, their bodies heaving with exertion.
The audience stood up in waves, clapping and shouting. A standing ovation.
Kieran remained still, his breathing steady, his eyes trained subtly towards her in the gallery.
Then, silence.
Thorgar rose slowly to his feet, towering above all. He raised his right hand high, and the crowd fell back into their seats in an instant. The only sound left was the soft cracking of torch flames.
He turned to Autumn beside him.
From under his cloak, he produced a silver neckpiece in the shape of a skull with thick chains, the bones crafted with impossibly delicate detailing, glinting in the firelight.
"Autumn," Thorgar called, voice deep, crystal clear, "you may choose the finest performer of the night,my dear."
He handed her the neckpiece.
Autumn rose slowly, her green dress rustling softly, the delicate wild flowers moved a little in her hair, as she tucked a few loose strands back. She turned her eyes towards the rink, scanning every masked face. Her gaze lingered here and there...but finally rested on him again...Kieran.
Without hesitation, she lifted the neckpiece and threw it.
It sailed through the air with gentle eerie precision...glinting silver as it spun...and then landed perfectly around Kieran’s neck.
A hush followed.
Kieran blinked.
He hadn’t expected that.
Neither had Velor.
They turned to each other in silence, then back to the crowd.
But the reaction wasn’t joy.
Whispers stirred. Eyes shifted. The other performers looked at Kieran with expressions he couldn’t quite place...pity, dread, maybe fear.
Autumn looked back at Thorgar, smiling softly, almost innocently. But Thorgar was not smiling back.
He stood there,leaning. And then he clapped.
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.
The third clap echoed like a strike of judgment.
"Very well, freak," Thorgar declared, voice booming. "You have been chosen by the Princess."
Kieran’s pulse quickened.
"Tomorrow," Thorgar continued, "you will be pitted against the Beast when we catch it at the Hunt."
A collective breath was sucked in from the crowd.
Autumn’s smile faltered.She looked at Thorgar, absolutely confused.
Kieran didn’t move. He stood there in the middle of the rink, the silver skull resting cold and heavy against his collarbone.
Above him, the stars blinked like watching eyes.
Autumn stood frozen at the gallery rail. Her fingers brushed the edge of her skirts.
The crowd’s silence still lingered like fog.
Then, just beside her, Autumn noticed her young maid let out a strangled gasp.
Autumn turned sharply just in time to see the girl stumble back a step, her eyes wide in horror, both hands flying up to clamp over her mouth.
"Lira?" Autumn called out, startled.
But Lira didn’t stop. Her eyes were glistening, and before anyone could catch her, she spun on her heel and ran, sobbing.
"Lira!" Autumn called again, confused, half reaching out. "What...what’s wrong with her?"
She looked to Orion beside her, but he offered nothing except a slow exhale.
Autumn’s chest tightened.
Then she turned to Thorgar.
He was already watching her.
But not with surprise or concern... just that same, unreadable calm.
She opened her mouth to speak, to question what this ’pitting against the beast’ meant, but he beat her to it.
Thorgar reached for her shoulder, placing a warm, firm hand there. "Rest well tonight, darling," he said softly.
His other hand lifted to her hair, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead like a father to a small little child. "We leave for the Hunt before dawn."