Page 49 of Mated to the Enemy
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He was nervous.
The crowd today was much more evenly split between Klaue supporters and those cheering on his opponent, but he didn’t give a damn about that. His foe today, Kasperi, was a fierce fighter, but while Klaue gave him all the respect in the world, it wasn’t the challenge before him that made him nervous either.
It was what was behind him that had his heart racing, his palms slick and his throat dry. For the hundredth time, he resisted the urge to turn and look back at his corner. Not that they were in a boxing ring—the Throne Room was much too large for that—but a dedicated knot of his supporters grouped against the far wall. They were the staunchest, including several of the soldiers under his command, and one other notable figure.
Jessica.
This time, she wasn’t up in the crowds forced to watch the fight. She was down at ground level, with a front row view of what was going on. Klaue had thought he wanted her there, but now that the time had come, he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have actually been better off with her up in the crowd, or simply not present at all.
The Queen finished her speech to the crowd and sat. It was too late now, however; she was here, and he would have to fight under her watchful eye. Klaue desperately wanted to make her proud, to show her that he was as good as many said. Winning was good, but only if he earned her approval on top of it. Otherwise, it would be a pointless fight, win or lose.
“Klaue, are you ready?”
He forced his attention away from the person he was rapidly coming to conclude was his mate, and back to the task at hand. Kasperi was no pushover, and he was one of the best weapons fighters in the House. Klaue would have an uphill battle against him today.
Weaponry was his worst discipline. It didn’t mean he was bad with the sword. Five years on the Queen’s Own meant he was no slouch with the weapon, but Kasperi was an undisputed fanatic with it.
“Yes,” he answered his Queen’s challenge, lifting his right arm in the air, holding the sword aloft over his head.
The crowd roared its approval.
“Kasperi, are you ready?”
There was no hesitation. A similar sword-raise ensued, followed by another bellow from the crowd. Klaue licked his lips. The roar had been a lot louder for Kasperi. Maybe he didn’t have as many supporters as he’d thought.
That doesn’t matter. All that matters is winning. Keep doing that, and they will come around.
Klaue nodded, to himself but also at Kasperi as the Queen waved at them to begin and sat back in her throne, glancing briefly at the empty seat next to her where the King would sit.
For a moment, he felt pity for the woman, who looked completely alone, but then he yanked his attention back to the fight as Kasperi came at him, his sword whipping around in a blur. Klaue recognized that the blow wouldn’t come anywhere near him even if he stood still, and wondered what Kasperi was trying to accomplish with it. He was still too far out to strike.
He’s looking to see how you react.
Klaue did the exact opposite then. He stood still, sword in a guard position to his right, and then waited.
Kasperi swept in, turning with his feint and swinging around to deliver a vicious swipe at Klaue’s midsection. Metal clanged loudly as his guard dropped easily into position, nearly numbing his hand with the vibration that ran up the crossguard.
The pair split apart, then came back in at each other, swords flashing as they danced. The distinctclangof metal on metal rang out again and again. Klaue knew he was outclassed. Klaue’s strokes might have looked smooth and controlled compared to most, but compared to Kasperi, he looked like a rank robot, jerky and unprepared.
If he was going to win this and not disappoint Jessica, he was going to have to pull something wild out of his ass. Something completely and totally unexpected that would catch Kasperi completely unawares. The question was, how the hell could he do that when facing a master swordsman?
Ducking low under a blow, he lunged forward, aiming a slash at the back of Kasperi’s legs. A dark silver blade swept down to interpose itself a hair’s breadth before he made contact, and—just like that—Klaue was on the defensive again, parrying for all he was worth as Kasperi drove him across the chamber to the audible gasps from the crowd.
One particularly violent blow swept aside his guard and Klaue only barely jumped back from a swipe that would have opened a huge cut across his chest. The crowd gasped, then cheered, as Klaue forced Kasperi onto his heels with a flurry of attacks designed to give him time to think.
Think. He’s not going to make a mistake on his own. He’s too good for that. Either you’re going to get lucky, which is not something you should rely upon, or you’re going to have to force him into making a mistake.
A trap, then. That’s what he was going to have to do. If he could lure Kasperi into a trap, trick him somehow, that was the only way he was going to win. The question was…how?
Klaue’s mind flicked back to the fight as his opponent went from being on the defensive to attacking once more. He was forced to throw his blade above his head in a wild parry, holding his left hand against the flat of the blade to stop the vicious overhand chop. His left arm went dead, and some of the crowd roared as he leapt backward, holding the numb limb to his side as best he could.
Risking a glance past Kasperi, he saw Jessica standing at the edge of the crowd, a hand over her mouth. She was scared for him. Not about whether he would win, but for his wellbeing. Shecaredfor him. Nothing had materialized after their kiss the night before. The pair had been swept up in the spirit of the wedding and partied until it was late. He’d carried her back to his room, half-asleep and drunk in his arms.
Due to the fight, he’d stayed sober. After tucking her in, he’d promptly collapsed on the couch and passed out. Now he saw that what they’d experienced the night before hadn’t been purely because of the wedding. It was writ on her face, clear as day. She feared for his safety, for him, because she couldn’t stand to see him hurt.
Pain erupted across his back and left arm as Kasperi’s sword licked out, splitting the flesh open with its razor-sharp edge and drawing blood. The crowd roared as the swordsman held his blade aloft, crimson red liquid dripping from it onto the floor.
