Competitors, take your places

This place would, eventually, stop surprising Perry. Any day now. He was sure that was going to happen. 

He'd thought the prince's celebration would be, you know, a one-and-done thing. Not a never-ending parade of parties where people he didn't care about kissed his ass. Surprise, surprise — he was wrong. 

Except now, he did care. Sort of. 

He still didn't know how to feel about the green-eyed man — Malrik, his name was Malrik — who had proclaimed, in front of the King and Queen, that the prince's life, Perry's life, was the most important one. Was that how most bodyguards operated? 

There was also the fact that Perry wasn't technically the prince, and, because of that, another man was about to potentially be dragged into a life or death situation. Because of him. 

Perry was in no way fond of Captain Handsy — Orryn, Captain Orryn —, but the man had cared for his prince and Perry couldn't shake the thought that it was his sudden arrival that had resulted in the Captain ending up in the dungeon. 

As his bodyguard left him and walked down the steps to the arena, Perry tried to brace for whatever was about to happen. 

The arena was, well, an arena. Except instead of nets and goals, there was an immense oval space in the middle covered with sand, surrounded by seats on all sides. 

Perry sat behind and between the King and Queen, flanked by Royal Guards and the Clan Leader. He felt like a bug in a web. Trapped. Exposed. One wrong move and — he didn't want to go down that road. 

Or think about the fact that he was probably about to watch a man die. Or several, considering he counted at least fifteen people getting ready to 'show the prince how their skills had improved'. 

Wasn't being a prince just awesome?

The Master of Ceremonies bowed then turned to face the arena, her voice booming over the crowd like a thunderclap. Perry's ears rang. Around him, the crowd buzzed, a low hum that made his skin crawl. Fun times.

"Their Majestys King Eaman of the First Land and Queen Isaane of the Verdant Forest, and His Highness First Prince Cassian, welcome you all to the celebration of our beloved First Prince's twentieth summer." Her amplified voice reverberated over the arena and made Perry grit his teeth. The people around them cheered and many inclined their heads toward where the King and Queen were sitting. "To celebrate the prowess for which His Royal Highness is known for throughout the kingdom, the competition today will have three parts: the first will be a test of skill and precision in which His Highness is of renowned proficiency." 

As she gestured for one of her many underlings, Perry wondered if it would be too conspicuous if he ran and hid somewhere. 

Men and women wearing the same blue and silver uniform as the Master of Ceremonies made their way to one side of the arena and set up targets. Perry exhaled and allowed himself to relax a bit. At least the competition wouldn't be just a bunch of people poking each other with the sharp end of their swords. 

"Competitors, take your places," the Master of Ceremonies instructed. 

Perry leaned forward, his heart pounding as he scanned the crowd. There — his bodyguard. Standing there like this was just another day. He held what looked like a simple bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. 

"To advance to the second competition, all three arrows must hit the center of the target," the Master of Ceremonies continued to explain. "When the final burst hits the sky, fire."

While the other nobles all took aim, Malrik stood there, looking impassively at the target. Almost like he was bored. Maybe his plan was to lose the competition? If he was disqualified now, he wouldn't have to fight anyone, right? But there was no way the Clan Leader would just let that slide. 

"Your bodyguard seems quite at ease," Long Beard observed. 

"He said he has many siblings," the King said. "Perhaps he has had a lot of practice."

The Master of Ceremonies raised one hand to the sky and with a circular flourish, three silver balls of light burst from her hand and into the sky, popping one after the other. 

The competitors all fired their arrows, one after the other. Perry tried to keep track of who hit which target, but he failed miserably. He didn't even see his bodyguard shoot off a single arrow. 

"The first competition is finished. Congratulations to all those who passed. Please remain in the arena for the second competition." The Master of Ceremonies twirled her hands and blue and silver sparks flew from her hands and showered the nobles standing in the arena. 

One by one, they filed out of the arena and found seats on the stands. Malrik stayed put, handing his bow over and taking the spear handed to him. 

"That was quite impressive." The King scratched his chin as he kept his gaze on the eight participants standing in the arena. "I barely saw him move, yet he managed to sink all three arrows in the same spot. Where did you find him?"

The King turned to glance at him and Perry considered how best to lie. 

"We, uh, met one morning and he offered to train with me. I was bored." Perry had no idea if the real prince ever had time to get bored, but the King seemed satisfied enough with his answer and turned back to the participants. 

Perry watched as they brought out horses. Horses. They brought out horses. Perry's stomach dropped. What were they going to do? Throw spears at them? No, that couldn't be it. Right?

"The second competition will be about speed and balance," the Master of Ceremonies announced. With another flourish of her hand, eight silver bubbles appeared on the opposite side of the arena. "Competitors, mount your horses."

Perry watched as each competitor got on their respective horse and held their lance with impressive ease and grace. But when they brought out a horse for Malrik, the horse neighed and refused to get closer. Malrik stared the animal down as it sidled away. And it wasn't just that one. The horses closer to him also seemed agitated, shifting nervously and pawing at the sand. 

To Perry's utter surprise, Malrik waved away the animal and turned to face the silver bubbles, spear in hand. Even from where he was, Perry could hear the other competitors laughing. Snickers erupted from around the arena, but Perry's bodyguard seemed oblivious to all of it. 

The Clan Leader moved closer to Perry and leaned down to speak close to his ear. "Your bodyguard seems quite overconfident." 

Perry said nothing, his eyes fixed on Malrik, and did his absolute best to ignore how having Long Beard so close to him made him want to run and hide. 

"It goes without saying, that he will not be staying long. No matter who really brought him." Long Beard eyed Perry and Perry swallowed. 

"It wasn't me," Perry mumbled, embarrassed by how weak and small his own voice sounded. 

He hated feeling powerless. 

Long Beard gave him a sharp smile. "Of couse, Your Highness."

The Master of Ceremonies raised her hand, magical sparks dancing between her fingers. "Competitors, prepare!" 

The silver bubbles began to float all over the place, up and down, then side to side. 

The Master of Ceremonies let off three pops from her hand and the horses were off, leaving Malrik behind in a cloud of dust and sand. 

He stood there, still as a statue. Perry's heart raced. What was he doing? Then — so fast Perry almost missed it — he moved. The spear left his hand in a blur. Perry's stomach lurched.

Before any of the mounted competitors could reach their respective bubbles, Malrik's spear sailed through the air. It struck one of the bubbles and it burst in a shower of silver sparkles. The arena fell into a deafening silence for seconds that stretched and stretched.

Then, almost everyone erupted in applause.

By the time the other competitors reached their respective bubbles, Malrik was wiping his hands and looking almost bored. 

The Master of Ceremonies seemed just as impressed as the spectators. "An extraordinary display! The first four competitors move on to the final round."

Perry's fingers dug into the chair, his knuckles white. Where the hell had the real prince found this guy? And how was he so damn good at everything?

As the remaining competitors regrouped, preparing for the final challenge, the atmosphere in the arena seemed to shift slightly. The laughter died off and the air practically buzzed and Perry's skin prickled uncomfortably. Sweat soaked his back and he shifted on his chair. 

"The final competition will test your skill in combat," the Master of Ceremonies proclaimed. "Competitors, please collect your weapons."

Perry's breath hitched. This was it. No more games. No more mistakes.

Weapons would be drawn. Blood might be spilled. And Perry could do nothing other than sit there and watch.