Page 31 of The Sun God's Prize
And me to weigh his skills, take his measure.Just in case the time comes after all.
Hloraine lands a solid blow to his ribcage that I know he’s not expecting, so when he finally lashes out and delivers his final hit, sending her spinning, I now know his weakness.Anger flares, his temper his downfall.
I’ll know for next time.
When I’m called up again, I take it slow, though it’s hard to force myself to find ways to linger when I could so easily crush the man in front of me with a single blow.He’s clumsy, even if he appears confident, the whip and spear combo he wields out of his league.Maybe if he chose just one, he might be at least a momentary distraction, but he’s struggling to balance both, and every time he swings one or the other, he leaves himself wide open to attack.
Finally tired of him, I jam one sword into the sand to free a hand and step in, slapping him across the face.When I backflip out of his range and retrieve my second weapon, I’m greeted with a cheer that makes the whole arena tremble.
I get it, in that instant.More than understanding, from an outside perspective.I feel it, their approval, their passion for me.The crowd’s love is a wave of heat that washes over me like an orgasm, and I’m caught up in it for a moment.
Almost too long, the fighter I’m supposed to keep in my sights trying to circle around me and attack.But even distracted, he’s no match for a warrior of Heald, and while secretly I’m ashamed that I allowed that breach of my defenses, I take it out on him.
This time, I leave both swords behind, and when I strike, it’s with a double cuff to both of his ears.He really needs the chastisement.This time, I choose a front flip over him, hands dropping from the stunning, eardrum assault that makes him howl and bend over, landing on his shoulders, which I use to leverage a full rotation, landing softly on the far side before he even hits his knees.
Their roar is even louder, though this time I don’t let it carry me away.I’m done with this and spin at full speed, my heel impacting the back of his head.
He’s out and I’m retrieving my swords, saluting Romouth again, before joining my stable.
“Better,” Brem nods.“But we have work to do before we ride for the Dominae.”
This is not the kind of battle I was raised for.And now that I’m outside it again, it disgusts me, my stomach roiling with the demands of the crowd, with the trivialization of war.As I stare out over the watchers, I feel myself contracting with despair.
And yet, if this is what I must do, I will do it.If only to get home again.
***
Chapter Fifteen
Our victory is sealed when Brem defeats the last of the fighters, granting us sixteen victories out of twenty-four bouts.We face off with our opponents at the end of the event, as Romouth has her march of success, themasterreof the Dome of Death grimly grumpy at his fighters over the loss.
I catch a sultry look from the Zandirish fighter, his amber eyes heavy-lidded as he slides his tongue over his lips with a suggestive smirk.I smile back before jamming my fist upward, slapping my forearm with my free hand, hoping he gets the message.
He does, sullen response his problem, not mine.
Romouth holds her graceful confidence until the gate closes on the last visitor before she spins, arms wide, purple robe swinging, to beam at us before she throws her head back and laughs.
“That,” she says, “wasdelicious.”
Only then does she send us to bathe, but not to rest, the women quickly scrubbing the sweat and dirt from their bodies, dressing in more elaborate tunics than the ones we were granted.I slip into my red one, surprised to find it’s been laundered, stepping out and quickly dragged along despite my reservations, Morinthi on one side and Hloraine on the other.
“Now,” the tall woman gushes, “we celebrate!”
It’s dark already, and I’m weary, but I sit back and smile as they carouse, food piling on the tables at ourmistresse’s insistence, and alcohol making an appearance at last, a small cask of some heady stuff I sniff at but don’t partake of handed out in small cups barely taller than a finger.There’s chatter and laughter, but I don’t hear it, lost in thought.
And when the first pair openly kisses one another, I know where this is going.Not that I disapprove, not in the least.It’s going to turn into a full pile of naked bodies in short order, though, the women heading for the inner chamber and all those cushions, shedding clothing as they go, someone gasping as a hand finds her between the legs, giggling and moaning already begun.
Hloraine carries the cask with her, even Romouth joining her stable, and for the first time, she sheds her robe and becomes one of us, sinking to her knees and embracing Morinthi while Kasha plunges her face between themistresse’s legs.
I’m not stirred by their passions, feel nothing as they writhe together, and turn away, heading for the salt pool and privacy.I should remain, should do what I can to build loyalty and companionship, but I find I’m missing the men I love in a bursting hit of grief that catches me off guard.
The salt water welcomes me, embraces me, as much of a lover as I need or want right now.I unbind my braids and let them loose, my hair spreading out around me while I float, just riding at the surface.I catch echoes of the sounds of lovemaking from the chamber next door, distorted by the distance and the fluid in my ears.It can’t stop the aching inside me, only adds to it, as I close my eyes and reach.
Reach for Atlas and Zenthris, for the kinspark and the men I suddenly can’t bear to be without for even another moment.
When I fail to find them, I catch the sob that rises, swallow it, force a breath.And try again.And again.
And again.
