Page 58 of A Deal with the Shadow King

One side steps easily around whatever attack Jo tries, never going on the offensive, never breaking a sweat like he’s merely humoring a child.

Jo’s breaths grow heavier. “This is getting boring. Fight me.”

But the crowd isn’t bored, not in the least. Even the hard planes of Two’s chest aren’t enough to keep a pair of eyes away from One. The hunter is effortlessly charismatic as he evades Jo’s attacks.

One veers off Jo’s path once more and snickers unkindly. I’d originally thought his plan was to tire out his opponent, but I know better now.

He wants to humiliate him.

My eyes narrow. One is clearly planning something, and when Jo moves to kick his stomach, the dark Fae’s edges blur with shadows. He catches his opponent’s foot mid-air, and a sickening crack raises all my hairs to attention.

The leaves of the Hawthorn bristle at the sound, and Jo cries out, his yelp quickly melting into a low, manly grunt as he falls to the ground, his broken leg twisted at his side.

One faces the frozen crowd. Lori holds a hand to her opened mouth, and anger licks my insides. I’m gripped by a knee-jerk need to defend the poor man on the ground, but before I can move, One’s loud voice resonates through the branches.

“Joseph here might have slayed a legendary nightmare, but he lost one of us in the process.” He spins around to face the wounded hunter. “Your orders were to wait for me.”

“Death is part of the game! Sacrifices need to be made!” Jo shouts, his pain obvious. Sweat pearls on his forehead, and shivers rock his body as he manages to stand up, his face wrinkled in a bitter grimace.

The sight of him scrambling for balance on one leg draws gasps from the crowd.

One tilts his chin up, every inch he has over his opponent magnified. “Do not pretend to teach me about sacrifices. If you had waited like you were supposed to, Drake would be here with us. I will lead the next hunt.”

Jo grits his teeth and motions to his broken leg. “That fracture will take weeks to mend.”

“You should have considered that before you sent our best healer to his death.”

“I’m no good to the king without a leg,” Jo spits.

One angles his mask to me for a brief second. “Lucky for you, one of the new seeds is already a skilled healer, so you can get that fixed. Tomorrow.”

The Fae rushes past me, and I hold out an arm to stop him, still reeling from the violence of the blow. “I could do it now.”

The tired hunch of his back unravels my anger, the dark knight clearly not enjoying himself—or the pain he caused to his underling.

He pauses at my side, and I think he’s going to bite my head off for my offer, but the tension in his spine eases. He leans close enough for Lori’s brows to lift in alarm, and his breath warms my ear. “Don’t. He needs the lesson.”

Chapter 21

A Knight in Distress

The morning after Jo’s catastrophic duel with One, I tip-toe inside the infirmary. A dozen single beds furnish the long rectangular room, but all of them are empty except for the one Jo is laying in. A few rays of sunlight filter through the diamond-shaped windows, and the smell of clean laundry and antiseptic tickles my nose.

“Good morning. Lori told me I’d find you here,” I greet my patient.

“I’m glad to finally meet you properly, Nell.” The tall brown-haired man puts his book aside and shifts awkwardly over the white duvet, his broken leg stabilized by an external brace. Dark circles drag down his eyes and spell out exactly how his night went. “I’m Joseph, but everyone calls me Jo.”

My lips quirk. “I caught that.”

“I assume you came to heal me?” The end of the sentence rises in question, more out of politeness than doubt.

“Yes.” Guilt heats my cheeks for not healing him yesterday. Despite One’s memorable speech, I don’t think anyone should be made to suffer.

Jo sighs in relief. “You’re a lifesaver. If it wasn’t for you, I would be out of commission for the entire season.”

“It must hurt like a horseshoe in the brow.”

“Ha-ha—that it does. Is that what they say in the old world?” Not waiting for an actual answer, Jo sits up. His knuckles turn white on the mattress as he dangles his injured leg over the edge of the bed. “Cary did his best to get me through the night, but he’s no true healer.”

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