With my sword resting at my side, I don’t sleep at all that night. When the morning comes, and the Pitmaster summons me, I’m almost relieved to finally face my fate. Lying awake all night, stressing and dreading this moment has not been kind to my mind and body.
I’m not suicidal, but I want this stress to end.
“They rushed this scheduling on purpose,” the Pitmaster says as she leads me down away from the main area where we practiced and slept. Along the wall, I see a rod-iron gate blocking what appears to be a lift. Two guards stand at either side of it, no one within.
The Pitmaster continues, “They didn’t want to give you time to properly train. This was only ever about punishment for you. Whatever you did to earn the ire of the king, he must hate you for it.”
“He does,” I say, though
