He heard a storm of footfalls then, a chorus of concerned voices as a brigade of guards surged closer to the fiery ring—but Kamran stayed them with a single hand. This was his fight to finish. Cyrus glanced at these armed onlookers, then considered the prince for what felt like a long time. “Very well,” the southern king said finally. “Never say I’m not merciful. I’ll make this quick. You will not suffer.” “And I,” Kamran said, the rasp of his voice like gravel, “will make certain that your torment is never-ending.”
