Page 35 of The Realm That Falls to Her

She looks at me, confused. “No, of course not. I’m telling you so you’ll be prepared. Protect your face and vital organs and you’ll probably not get anything they can’t patch up…eventually.”

Wistal and Vaccia stomp towards us. I notice Vaccia is in a thick set of riding leathers, like many other players.

“Should I be wearing something like that?” I ask. Destan’s servant friend, Dreidana, had assured me everything I needed would be provided on arrival at the arena, but now I feel woefully unprepared.

“Yes,” Pyromey says. “Me too. And you’ll need to choose an ursinian. Come with me.” She leads me to one of the jagged stones lining the edge of the arena, revealing that there’s a passage tucked behind the rock. Steps lead up to a chamber filled with leathers in different shapes and sizes hanging on hooks. Pyromey pulls a set down and heads towards some smaller chambers next door.

“Pick one and change,” she says before going to do the same herself.

I find a set I think is about my size—not easy when most of the clothes look like they were made for giants—and start pulling it on. There’s a rustle of air behind me and I spin round?—

“Ruskin!” I give him a playful tap. “You scared the life out of me.”

“You told me to stay out of sight,” he murmurs.

“True.” I’m glad I’m getting to see him again before I go into the circle. Just being near him makes me feel safer, more grounded. I find myself watching his mouth as he talks, thinking about the things it did to me last night. If I concentrate on that pleasure—on the want that still smolders for him right now—then perhaps I won’t have room to be so afraid.

“I found a spot I can watch from,” he says. “The moment it gets too much, I’ll?—”

I place a hand on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath my fingers.

“No. I know you want to keep me from getting hurt, but if you take me off the field early, this whole thing is pointless. I have to be standing with my team at the end of the match in order to get that spot on the king’s council. I can’t leave, not even for healing. I’ll probably have to take a few hits, but that’s necessary anyway if they’re going to respect me. So no interference unless it’s an absolute emergency, agreed?” I search his face, wondering if this Ruskin will be able to control himself.

He nods slowly. “I will try to hold back as long as possible—but if it seems your life is in imminent danger?—”

“Then you have my permission to do something,” I say wryly. “But Pyromey says no one’s died for years,” I tell him, even though a little voice in the back of my mind tells me there’s always a time to break that streak. Ruskin looks similarly skeptical.

“Is there nothing else I can do?” he asks, his hand going to cradle my jaw. I lean into his caress.

“We’re allowed to use magic,” I say, remembering Pyromey’s comment about a spell injuring a player. “So maybe you can channel yours to me through the bond like you did in the court trial. I’ll just give you a signal if I need it.”

I show him the wristband, telling him I’ll twist it three times to the left if I need him to start sharing his power. Then I finish pulling on my game gear, noting Ruskin’s appreciative gaze lingering on my ass.

“Yes, I know you have a thing for this kind of look,” I say, feeling strangely comforted that this, out of everything, hasn’t changed about him.

“Correction. You in this look,” he says, tugging me closer and planting a bruising kiss on me.

A cough echoes through the chamber and we pull apart like naughty teenagers. Pyromey is there, watching us.

“He’s not staying,” I say. “He just?—”

Pyromey waves her hand. “I don’t care why you don’t want to be seen here, Lord Dawnsong, but I’m good at forgetting things. After you leave this room, for example, I’ll put it out of my head.”

“Thank you,” he says.

“Now come on, Lady Thorn. We need to get you a steed.”

Pyromey explains more of the rules of bastet to me as we take more stairs, descending this time. It seems the gist is generally that there aren’t many rules. Players on ursinian are given basket-like scoops used to catch and throw the ball. The other team will try to get it off you and over the line, past the point of their opposing team’s pillars. You can do just about anything to achieve your goal.

“Except no external weapons—blades or things like that. Only what you were born with,” she says, smiling and holding up her long, talon-like nails.

“And magic?”

“Always an option, but in some matches it’s not used much. Most people prefer to play by getting their hands dirty. Casting can take too long when the game moves so fast. Still, it can be a smart strategic move when push comes to shove.”

We come out onto an open-air enclosure where the distant chatter of the arena crowd is drowned out by the snuffles and grumbling of the animals in front of us—and I finally learn what an ursinian is.

A bear. A bear with antlers, to be precise.

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