Page 15 of Mated to the Enemy
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Despite the calm he’d tried to exude back in his quarters, Klaue was nervous. Not quite terrified—he was too confident in his own skills for that—but he was worried. This was a big deal for him, and he didn’t want to screw it up.
Two days earlier, the Queen had nominated him as her pick to be Champion of High House Ursa. It was a massive honor, and one Klaue had been completely unprepared for. Never in his wildest imagination had he expected that he would ever have the chance to ascend to be one of the Title Holders of his House.
The Champion was one of the most prestigious lords of a House. One of the most public and powerful seats. It would thrust Klaue into the spotlight if he were to succeed, something he wasn’t sure he wanted, but there wasn’t any denying his Queen’s wishes.
And secretly, Klaue had long considered himself to be the best fighter in the House. Now, however, he was going to get the chance to prove it, to himself, and to everyone else. He grinned, bouncing back and forth from one leg to the other, shaking his body out, staying loose, not allowing anything to tighten up.
Today was the first of three fights he would have to win to be named Champion of the House. This was a trial to submission or knockout, using nothing more than his body as a weapon. If he won today, the next fight would be with swords, and it would go until first blood. Assuming Klaue didn’t fuck it up and he got to the final challenge, he would fight his opponents in their animal forms.
Three contests, three different types of combat, all to see who was the best all-around fighter in House Ursa. If Klaue won them all, he would be anointed Champion, and his House would be one step closer to healing from the wounds it had suffered at the hands of its traitors several weeks earlier, at least on paper.
It would take much longer for trust to be regained after something like that. When dozens of members of the House had turned all at once in an attempt to gain control by the simple expedient of killing everyone in power, more than just bones had been fractured. Lives had been lost, and trust had been shattered.
They hadn’t been able to pin things back to House Canis—yet—but Klaue had been working closely with his boss to try and identify the last of the traitors still hiding among them. It irked him to know that Kirell didn’t trust him fully still, but the Captain of House Ursa wasn’t afforded that luxury. Not right now, with the way things stood.
What he didn’t know was what they would do once they had evidence that the Canim were the ones behind it all, that they had bribed and enticed members of his House with promises they’d be allowed to rule, among other things. The leader of the attempted coup was still out there, he was convinced of that. Whoever it was, they had escaped justice, and even if he was appointed Champion, Klaue wouldn’t stop hunting until he found them and ripped out their throat.
The doors in front of him opened, distracting him from the bloodlust as music sounded and he heard the chants of the other members of his House, both supporters and detractors. Idly, Klaue wondered if he had more of the latter than the former, but it didn’t matter. One thing all shifters respected was skill in a fight, and he would win them over through brute force if necessary.
He strode forward into the Throne Room, where all ceremonial combat occurred. The large room was located at the heart of Ursidae Manor. It was quite large. Across the back wall sat the stone chairs of the Title Holders along with those of the rulers. The seat reserved for the King was draped in black, and would remain that way until the Queen relinquished her rule and a new mated pair stepped up to rule the House.
Klaue had no time to mourn the monarch lost in the uprising, however, because the scene in front of him was already set. Other members of House Ursa lined the floor on the other three sides, as well as the level above, where the walls were opened to viewing down into the center of the Throne Room.
Someone spoke briefly but he didn’t listen. He knew the rules, and he knew what was at stake as well. Nothing more needed to be said. His opponent was a relative unknown to him, having arrived several days ago from their South American operations. Klaue didn’t even know the man’s name, nor did he care. Today wasn’t about pleasantries.
It was about winning.
He wanted to win for himself, for his Queen, for his House.
And for Jessica.
He was so distracted by the intrusive thought, that Klaue missed Kaelyn starting the fight. The roar of the crowd was the only clue he had that his opponent was charging at him. He slammed into Klaue heavily, sending the slightly bigger shifter sprawling to the ground, bouncing over the stone floor.
“Krug! Krug! Krug!” The chants from several sections of the crowd were nearly deafening.
At least I know your name now,he thought, rising to his feet without saying a word, simply dusting himself off as Krug prepared to come at him again.
His foe might have gotten the first hit in, but Klaue wasn’t going to let that happen again, that was for sure. The pair closed, and then circled, taking stock of one another, gauging their opponent. Krug was wary, almost apprehensive. He must have known the first shot was luck, that something had stolen Klaue’s attention away.
Jessica. She had distracted him, the idea that he wanted to impress her, to see her bright features blossom into happiness instead of the guarded nervousness that she lived within now. He could tell her face was used to being happy, the lines on her face—such as they were—were indicative of laughter and joy, not permanent sadness and fear.
Klaue blinked as Krug came flying with a swift left jab. He dropped to the side, planting his own left hand on the ground before kicking out with not one, but both feet. Krug took the blow in the stomach without any preparation and flew back across the room, bouncing over on his head and landing flat on his stomach.
The room went quiet, then a second later the other half of the makeshift arena erupted in cheers. Buoyed by the fact he had supporters out there, Klaue got to his feet and advanced on Krug, who put his palms on the ground and flexed hard, popping himself up into an easy pose straight from the ground.
This time, Klaue didn’t let himself get distracted. He went straight at the other man, the pair exchanging blows so fast they began to blur together. Klaue wasn’t thinking one or two moves ahead, but three or four, not only to try and win, but also to counter Krug, who was doing the same.
It wasn’t often that he went up against someone his equal in any of the disciplines, but Klaue had to give the man credit. Krug was good. Very good. But he was also younger, and just a little less disciplined. Some of his strikes were erratic, but when he did land them, Klauefeltit.
They exchanged blows, both men getting in some punishing hits, leaving bruises and swelling everywhere. The bout was settled nearly five minutes before it officially ended when Klaue slipped under a fist and connected hard with Krug’s orbital bone. Almost immediately, the other fighter’s right eye swelled up while the cut over his eyebrow began to drip blood.
Such was Krug’s skill, that it took Klaue that long to exploit the wound, but when he did, it was over and the crowd knew it. Whether supporter or hater, they all erupted into noise as the fight entered its final phases. Klaue drove in hard, hammering blows into Krug’s blind spot.
He faked one, slipped down and away from a blocking knee and took Krug to the ground. Hard. They wrestled briefly, but Klaue’s size paid off, and he realized quickly that he was a superior wrestler.Should have done this earlier.In less than a minute, he had Krug in a chokehold the other man wasn’t breaking out of, no matter how hard he tried.
It was over, and they both knew it. Krug tried to fight it, but eventually, he went limp and passed out. Screams of anger and victory rained down on him, but he only had ears for one, but he didn’t hear it.
