They didn’t know that I’d once fucked Avalon pressed against Hayle Taeme, so our rivalry was a lot more for show these days. The only true competition we had anymore was who could make Avalon come the fastest.
First blood had been purely by accident—a wild swing by me causing his forearm to brush against the sharp edge of my blade. It had barely nicked, but those were the rules.
He’d grinned as he’d bowed.Fucking likeable asshole.
“Good match, Princess,” he teased.
“Fuck off, Taeme,” I grumbled. “Go kiss your girlfriend.” Thekiss her for me tooremained unsaid, but he winked. He knew.
The other match began, and I watched Lierick Hanovan’s form as he competed against Avalon’s brother, Bach. Bach was a surprisingly adept fighter, and I wasn’t going to lie, I was impressed. He was wasted up there in the north, but I wouldn’t wish the Dawn Army on my worst enemy.
Avalon was watching the fight without blinking, and I leaned against the rail. They were both sweating and shirtless, and although I would never say it out loud even if I was being tortured, it made my dick hard.
They danced across the sand, their faces serious, the square completely silent except for the sound of their weapons crashing together.
Finally, Lierick got lucky, the tip of his sword grazing Bach’s stomach, drawing blood and ending the fight.
“The winner is Lierick Abaster, the Wildcard!”
The crowd went crazy. Who didn’t love an underdog story, even if they didn’t realize that he was about as underdog as I was?
The attendants raked the sand, and Lierick sucked down some water as we prepared for the last round. I’d be glad to be back at Boellium. Win or lose, we’d be on the boat back to the war college tomorrow, and I’d have Avalon in my arms before she even put down her bags.
Finally, as we entered the large ring in the center of the square, I smirked at Hanovan. “Don’t worry. I’ll make this quick.” I slipped off my shirt, which an attendant collected and ran back to my tent.
As he rolled both his eyes and his shoulders, I didn’t miss the way Lierick’s eyes slipped to my chest. He might have looked like a golden god, but I wasn’t exactly hideous. Someone whistled in the crowd, and the Master of Ceremonies shushed them.
“Ladies and gentleman, this isn’t that kind of entertainment. A little decorum, please,” he said, his tone exasperated. “Apologies, Heir Vylan.”
I waved a hand. “It’s fine. We should begin.”
He bowed his head. “Of course. Fighters, at the ready! To yield or first blood.” He stepped out of the ring. “Commence!”
Lierick was no Eugene, or even Hayle. He was obviously well trained, by someone seasoned. Hayle was a predator; he would circle you and attack with ferocity. But Lierick was disciplined, his style a lot like my own. This was going to be a close match.
I feinted forward, and he parried easily. “Aren’t you worried you’re showing your hand?” I asked lightly, issuing a few tentative strikes to keep him on the defensive, but also to find his weaknesses. I hadn’t seen him fight nearly enough.
Doing a rather impressive set of strikes back, forcing me onto my back foot, he smirked. “They’ll know me eventually. Let this moment be their first impression.”
Then it was real combat. I advanced forward, and he retreated, weapons flying through the air with precision, until speaking was impossible. It became almost a choreographed dance of skill, muscle, and sweat.
I didn’t know how long the round had gone for; I was living from ragged breath to ragged breath, looking for an opening. My muscles were aching, sweat dripping in my eyes, but I didn’t take my attention from Lierick for even a moment.
Finally, he dropped his guard, not by much, but enough for me to kick sand up in his face and sweep his legs from under him. He landed hard in the sand, and I pressed the tip of my sword to his heart.
“That was dirty,” he panted, and I couldn’t even muster the energy to be smug.
“If you want to survive, you have to stoop to the methods of your enemy,” I growled low. “Do you yield?”
Lierick nodded, though it looked like it pained him to do so.
“Lierick Abaster from the Eleventh Line yields. The winner of the Combat round, and of the Tournament of Second Heirs, is Vox Vylan, our esteemed Heir of the First Line!” the compiere shouted. There was applause again, maybe a little rowdier than the last time. I bowed, before heading back to my tent alone.
As quickly as it had appeared, the fighting ring was dissembled, as were the Line tents. Trestle tables were put up in their place, as well as a giant bonfire, constructed in the center of the town square. The crowd was buzzing with the promise of a party. Workmen were waiting for me to vacate my tent, and I gave them a respectful nod as I gathered my things.
I made my way back to my room at the boarding house, and as I pushed into the tiny room, I let out a relieved sigh at thesilence, even as it tormented me. The loneliness that Avalon had slowly chased away over the last couple of months was rising up without her, and I worked hard to push it down, to put it back in the little box of secret thoughts that I kept hidden, but it was harder than it had ever been. Avalon Halhed, that little dirt scrabbler, had ruined me, and I was too enamored to fight back. I slumped back onto the bed.
My door opened, and Lierick stepped inside. “What are you doing here?” I sighed, pushing myself back to my feet.
