Page 42 of Claiming Sarah

She beamed at me and rounded past the short gate separating the box from the other areas. Abaris made a face at me, but I ignored him. He was frustrated when he looked down his nose at me and asked, “Does elevated status of the box hold no significance to you?”

“My friends hold more.” I stood back up and hugged Cin.

In a flash, Sarah was next to me, her arm looping through mine a bit possessively. “Who is this nice lady you’re hugging?"

Cin’s gaze snapped back to mine, her tone sharp when she asked, “And who is thishumanto ask you about me?”

I sighed at the tension I felt between the females. “Hyacinth Rosewater, this is Sarah Hollinger, my consort.”

They shook hands and eyed each other carefully.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Rosewater,” Sarah said politely.

“Hyacinth, please.”

“And how do you know my companion?”

A sly smile curved the other woman’s lips. “We used to sleep together.”

Sarah arched an eyebrow at me. “Oh, did you?”

It was hard to miss the undercurrent of jealousy in her tone. “Cin is referring to when we were soldiers and sleeping in the barracks. Not the way you think, I swear.”

Sarah didn’t look the least bit placated. “Mm, hmm.”

My consort did not like Cin, and it was plainly mutual. I was not sure what I could do to change that. In my experience, when women did not like each other from the start, there was nothing to be done to remedy the problem.

In an effort to take the heat off of me, I changed the topic. “Cin, what are you doing in Faithless? This is not your usual leisure time activity.”

“No, not usually,” she agreed and looked around the arena, “but Idoenjoy when men get all sweaty, fighting each other to the death. Plus—”

“I’m sorry, did you say, ‘to the death’?” Sarah asked, her expression panic-stricken.

“Yes. Is that not the way on Earth?” Cin asked.

“Not hardly. Deacon, can I see you over here?Privately?” Sarah pointed away from everyone else, her eyes filled with genuine fear.

“Excuse me, Cin,” I said, and joined my consort in our private corner, feeling my own stomach plummet. “I did not know it is to the death,” I said to Sarah.

“What are we going to do?” she asked in dismay. “I can’t watch Jac die in some arena, fighting just because I insisted on seeing Rex so I could return Leda—”

“Calm yourself, Consort.” I lowered my voice and gently stroked my hand over her hair. “Jac is one of the best fighters Ihave ever known. If anyone can do this, it is him.” But my gut knotted all the same.

“What if he can’t?” she asked, wringing her hands anxiously.

I touched beneath her chin, making her gaze meet, and hold, mine. “Do you lack faith in our companion?”

“No, but I don’t want to see him injured, either,” she whispered.

“Neither do I,” I murmured soothingly. “I promise you he will be fine, Sarah.” As the words left my mouth, I prayed they held true.

She was still worried, despite my reassurances, and glanced around a bit frantically. “Is there some kind of concession stand? I need beer—no, wait—you probably don’t have that. What do you have, mead?”

I frowned. “What is—”

“A drink with tiny bubbles and alcohol,” she explained. “I need a buzz to deal with all of this.”

“There is kocha,” I told her. “It is mildly alcoholic and has bubbles. But why do you need alcohol? We are not celebrating just yet.”

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