Teb said, watching Accacia. “We have nothing like them in Thedria. There must be huge crowds, visiting dignitaries?” He busied himself breaking bread, served with the first course, of shellfish. “Are such games enjoyed often, or only on special occasions?” “Oh, special occasions,” Accacia said brightly. “When the leaders of the north come,” she said, delicately forking a river clam from its shell. “When they come, there is gaming at night in the stadium and feasting, and slaves will dance in all the taverns.” Her golden-brown eyes were bright with excitement. He sipped at the pale wine. “What kind of contests? Men against men, or against animals?” “All kinds, giant cats battling wolves, or both driven to attack chained prisoners.” Her color rose with lust. “Prisoners?” he asked casually. “Enemies of the king, and of Dacia. There are wild horses, too, battling with drugged bulls. Only not any horses like yours, Prince Tebmund. Once,” Accacia said, tossing her chestnut hair, “once there was a unicorn brought from the lands beyond the sea, trussed up, and sold to King Sardira.
