From my vantage point, there were a dozen hand-to-hand combats being waged around the arena, more shifters circling, and a lot of injured bodies sprawled across the ground.
Someone slid down the hill near me, saw Kiegan, and slid frantically in a different direction, throwing themselves down the hill to try to get away. Kiegan diverted to him, though, moving in a flash, and caught him by the throat.
He was faster than someone so massive had any right to be.
I darted between two boulders, sand sliding out from under me as I reached the crest of the hill. My lungs burned, the cursed heat inside me pulsing with every breath. The air tasted like metal, like my throat was so raw it was bleeding.
A hand caught my ankle.
I hit the ground hard, breath punching out of me as he dragged me backward across the grit. The sky spun; my palms scraped raw when I tried to brace myself.
I kicked, connecting squarely with his chest. It wouldn’t hurt him enough to matter, and it had to look like I’d tried.
He grunted, more from surprise than pain. “Cute.”
Before I could crawl away, he twisted, pinning me. His weight bore me down into the sand, solid and unyielding.
“Stay down,” he murmured.
His fist came up, slow enough for me to see it coming, the blood glistening across his knuckles. Even pulled, the blow cracked against my jaw, snapping my head to the side. Pain bloomed sharp and bright. The taste of copper filled my mouth.
The world tilted. The sky seemed too wide, the cheers of the crowd too far away.
Then his hand pressed against my throat—not hard enough to crush, but enough to make my breath stutter. His bloodied knuckles hovered in my line of sight, his chest heaving just above mine.
“Your prince looks like he thinks he reallyisyour prince,” he muttered.
I blinked, struggling to focus. Through the haze, I wondered why everyone had chosennowto call Fieranthe prince.
Fieran was on his feet in the stands, eyes blazing, restrained only by the hands gripping his arms. He looked feral—golden and furious and ready to rip Kiegan apart if not for half of Clan Bismyth holding him back now.
Kiegan smirked. “Looks like he’s fallen for you.”
I tried to quip back, but it came out in a rasp.
He hesitated long enough for me to catch my breath in a desperate gasp, then shifted his hand, thumb brushing the side of my throat. “Sorry, kitten,” he said under his breath, so quiet I barely caught it.
Then he shoved away from me, rising in one fluid motion to face the next challenger, leaving me sprawled in the dirt, half-conscious and staring up at the too-bright sun.
I stayed down. But I could hear him moving back and forth near me, forcing the last opponents to come to him. He shouted at them, and at the crowd, and the crowd screamed his name.
He stayed close enough to protect me if someone else came too near.
Almost as if he were standing guard.
When the bells chimed to signal a victor, I pushed myself to my hands and knees. A scrape across my palm ached as I wiped the dust off onto my pants.
I searched for Kiegan, hoping he had won. Slowly, the crowd’s chanting was gathering power.Kiegan. They were chanting for Kiegan again, and I felt a grin split my mouth—even though it also split my lip, which began to bleed.
Kiegan stood between me and the stands, one arm raised over his head in victory. I didn’t have to see his face to know he was grim but proud.
I hoped Bismyth would claim him. I wanted Kiegan by my side, even if he did dare to call mekitten.
Someone’s shadow fell across me. I blinked against the sunlight, squinting up at the blur of a figure haloed in gold. He towered over me like a god.
Then he knelt, and the blur resolved into hard, perfect lines. High cheekbones. Golden eyes. A sinful mouth I should have hated.
Fieran.
