The Rejected True Heiress (Liora and Callum) novel Chapter 484

Chapter 484 

Liora’s POV 

The tournament grounds had been set up on the far side of campus, sprawling across the open fields where the rugby games were usually held. Today, the space was practically unrecognizable beneath the sea of tents, students, and guests who had come from near and far to watch the royal tournament. 

White tents dotted the perimeter, each one marking a different discipline. Archery targets lined up in neat rows to the east, their bright yellow bullseyes visible even from a distance. The racing track snaked around the outer edge of the field, marked with orange cones and flags. Obstacle courses had been erected in the center with ropes and walls and balance beams that made my stomach twist with memories of Alder’s game. 

And at the far end, raised above everything else, was the combat arena. 

It was a simple platform, maybe twenty feet across, bordered by thick ropes strung between metal posts. The ground was covered in thick mats. Stands had been set up around it, already filling with students eager to watch people beat the crap out of each other. 

Above it all, overlooking the entire tournament like a queen surveying her kingdom, was a raised dais draped in royal blue fabric. Bianca sat in the center with that tacky tiara perched on her head, flanked by her usual gaggle of cronies. Daisy stood behind her like a statue, blank-eyed and motionless and yet somehow watching everything with a keen gaze at the same time. 

The whole thing felt like a circus. Which I supposed it was, in a way. Bread and games for the masses while Bianca cemented her position as heir. 

“This is insane,” Mia muttered beside me. She was holding her bow, already dressed in her archery gear. “She really went all out.” 

“Of course she did,” Zane said from my other side. “Nothing says “I’m totally legitimate’ like throwing a massive tournament and making everyone watch you win.” 

I snorted. “Except she might not win.” 

“That’s the spirit.” Zane clapped me on the shoulder. “Speaking of which, when’s your first match?” 

I checked the bracket that had been posted near the combat arena. My name was about halfway down the list, paired against a student whose name I vaguely recognized from my statistics class. “Not for a few hours. I’ve got time.” 

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify