CHAPTER 128: COVERED IN BLOOD

"What the eyes don’t see, the heart will. But let the mouth not speak all that the ears hear."

The voice of the priestess echoed from inside the cave, low at first, then spreading like thunder rolling from a hidden mountain. It wasn’t a greeting, it was a warning.

The men had finally arrived at the ritual ground. It was their first act to open the tournament as the council had suggested since it was believed that choosing a bride like this always led to disaster and lost children. The council decided to offer prayers that even after it, there would be no loss anymore.

It was their belief, but not for Rhane.

Rhane didn’t believe any of it. The life he had lived made him very aware of things and people around him. Priestesses, shamans, and seers had twisted their words and prophecy at the sight of wealth and riches.

No man born of flesh had escaped the wretches of greed. That was what Rhane believed, but just as he had agreed to go through a tournament for courtesy and for Jenna, he didn’t mind doing this either.

The ritual ground smelled of damp soil and smoke, the kind that lingered on the skin, the air reeked of burnt matches.

It was still full bright noon, but the place had the air of night with fire torches planted in the earth.

The leader of the council stepped forward, clearing his throat stiffly. "Great Priestess of The Watchers," he said, bowing low. "We have come to offer prayers, to cleanse the path before the tournament, and to seek your blessing. Let us kneel before your dwelling and bring forth our wishes."

The priestess did not reply immediately. But a mystified melody was heard before she said,

"Kneel."

One by one, the council members lowered themselves. Even Gerald bent forward, though his eyes flicked restlessly toward Rhane as if to ensure he wasn’t kneeling lower than his brother. The young man who hadn’t left his father’s side ever since they arrived almost knocked himself over, out of fear.

Nikolai did the same, but first, he gave a quick glance at Rhane’s direction.

"Can you kneel?" Percy whispered to Rhane, his eyes worriedly staring at Rhane’s stomach. He knew how bad the injury was, and it was even a miracle that Rhane was still standing.

"Maybe you can—"

Slowly but with intent, Rhane’s knees pressed against the soil. And he gestured with his eyes for Percy to kneel too.

"This is bad," Percy muttered softly to himself, clasping his hands together. "My only prayer is that you don’t die..." he cried, bowing his head down.

Rhane didn’t smile, but he shook his head. The young man had been worried something might happen if he didn’t see a proper physician, but it was as good as backing down from the tournament.

Rhane knew so many eyes were on him, for no other reason than his downfall. He wasn’t going to let them have it easy. Not that he was ever going to fail.

As the councilmen concentrated on their prayers, their voices mumbled in half-prayers, each man desperate to show humility he didn’t possess.

Rhane was quick to hear it. A soft footstep approaching. It was distant at first, but slowly it came closer.

The priestess walked slowly among them, her bare feet soundless on the soil. She circled like a predator as if choosing which neck to snap. When she came to Rhane, she stopped.

"You do not ask for help covered in blood."

Rhane knew she meant him, but he remained still with his eyes staring ahead like nobody was beside him.

"You," she breathed, leaning close enough that her words brushed his ear. "You are marked. Blood coats your back, blood fills your hands, blood trails behind your every step. A man that death follows cannot pray among the living."

This time Rhane moved up, kneeling straight. He turned his head, his gazd lazily fixed on the priestess. Like a man sitting in a tavern after a long day, and just staring blankly at a wall. He’d had enough.

The priestess flinched, taking a step back. She pointed accusing fingers at Rhane. "Who brought me a man who aims to be a god?" She grimaced, rubbing her tongue over her teeth.

"There is no happiness for a man who doesn’t know his place!"

The council members shifted uncomfortably, pretending to mutter prayers, their hands rising in hollow gestures of reverence. Still, every one of them turned their eyes toward Rhane. Gerald’s mouth twitched into a grin, cruel satisfaction sparking at the thought of Rhane being cursed.

"You have sent death more gifts than life. This is no place for you to offer prayers."

Rhane couldn’t agree more. If for anything, out of all the rubbish the woman had said, she was actually right. Not waiting for any more of her prophecy, he pushed himself up from the ground, dusting his knees free from sand.

"May the tournament end as it must." Was all he said and began walking back to his carriage.

The priestess stepped forward, her hair falling and covering her face, and her eyes gleamed beneath. She tilted her head, studying Rhane as he walked away. Her lips curled into a half-smile that revealed no joy.

"Suffering is not inevitable, for through detachment one can find freedom from the pain of attachment." She murmured to herself, turning her back as she began walking to her cave. To the others that remained, she said,

"Pray," the priestess commanded. "But know that prayers are useless when your hearts are filled with rot."

After the ritual ended abruptly, everyone walked back to their carriages. Percy, who had been scared to raise his face when the priestess came to Rhane, quickly left the place in search of Rhane to make sure he didn’t slump somewhere and die.

"R-hane?" Percy searched the place. "R-hane?" He whispered his name. When he found Rhane standing, Percy let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived. Rhane wasn’t alone.

"Percy!" Hart spread his arms, walking past Rhane to go and drag Percy in an embrace. "It is good to see you again."

"Y-young master Hart..." Percy stuttered, his eyes searching Rhane’s face, waiting for him to explain what was going on.

"I was scared I’d miss the ritual," Hart remarked, moving back from the hug but still holding Percy. "When I heard about the contest...I was taken aback. If I’d known I could claim Jenna, I would have done it." He turned around to face Rhane.

"Who knew her mere servant could pull something this huge." Hart clicked his tongue. "I always knew there was something about you...something different. You don’t look like the normal slaves."

Percy opened his mouth, he wanted to ask Hart to stop speaking and hold his tongue for his life sake.

Rhane didn’t respond. His attention was on the belt he tightened around his stomach. It was only after he left the ritual ground that he noticed he was bleeding again. The priestess must have caught a whiff of it, which was why she made the prophecies earlier.

Soon Gerald and the council members joined them. It was official, the tournament had begun.

The council leader raised his hand, seeking everyone’s attention. "The first part has been done. We have the blessings to commence. Before anything else, the men will go and see the one they intend to fight for." His eyes moved from Rhane to Gerald and then Hart. "It is better you change your mind here than shed blood for a heart you do not truly want."

Gerald’s brows knitted instantly when he noticed Hart. "Father," he whispered harshly, turning to the older man who stood at his side. "How did he come here? Who allowed it?"

"Remember, the three of you from this point are no longer friends but men hoping to claim a woman." The council leader continued. "There are eyes always on you...Until the tournament is over, you shall steer clear from Jenna."

Gerald, who wasn’t satisfied, pressed on. "Why is he here?" He asked again. "Is that not Hart? The one whom Jenna grew up with?"

Still no response.

"The carriages shall be taken away, the men will ride with their horses to the place where maidens stay. It is an opportunity given by the council, for the last time if you wish to change your mind."

Rhane strapped a dagger around his thigh as the man spoke. He picked the things he’d need from his carriage, then slung a bag over his shoulder, walking towards the first horse made ready for him.

"It doesn’t seem like you’ll change your mind," Hart sucked his teeth, then grinned. "It’s fine...a fair competition is proper." He went to stand over his own horse.

Percy trotted behind Rhane, his face etched with concern. "Rhane, you’re bleeding again—please..."

Rhane grabbed his shoulder, his lips curled slightly. "The faster, the better. Percy." He mounted the horse with ease.

Gerald followed, though he still asked why and what Hart was doing. Seeing that his father wasn’t saying a word, he got on the horse with the help of two servants. When he raised his face and saw Rhane and Hart staring at him, his ears burned red.

"If you did care to look, I have an injured arm!"

Hart snorted, turning his face forward. "I’m glad I won’t be losing miserably."

"I have an inj—"

"Hiyah!" Rhane kicked his own horse in motion.