The carriage came to a stop in front of the arena. She helped herself out and paid the driver his fare, tipping generously from her precious stash of hidden dragmars. Inside was a facility far nicer than the Paragonian pits, although slightly smaller. A reception office stood off the main hall with a schedule of practice times. Marius’s name filled the current time slot, and she paused a moment to appreciate his even scrawl. His handwriting was pleasing for a dragon male, but then, she supposed, he’d been schooled as a child to speak and write elegantly. He was to be king, after all.
Across the hall was a locker room. She silently wished she’d known it was there. She could have used it to change out of her dress instead of wearing her fighting clothes underneath. Next time. If there was a next time.
The next room was a workout facility with weights and a running track. She audibly gasped when she saw the ring itself. It was a smaller circular space than the one in the pits but in far better condition. The floor was carpeted with pea gravel. She’d learned during her years of training that this was preferable. Dragons were incredibly tough and healed quickly, but injuries still hurt. If she was thrown, she’d skid harmlessly across the gravel. A fighting ring of stone or packed earth would grip and tear at her. Indoor rings sometimes had padded mats, but she knew that was too much to ask for here. Besides, she’d heard the benefits were negligible when it came right down to it.
Marius wouldn’t coddle her. He’d try to win. She’d have to bring all her skills and more if she was going to convince him to hire her.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.” Marius stood behind her, watching her with the profound interest one might give a dancing animal.
“Why? I said I’d be here. I want this, Marius, and I’m going to prove to you that I’m a worthy coach.”
“Hmm.” His gaze traced over the frumpy lumps of her dress.
“I’m not going to fight you in this!” She started unbuttoning her dress at the neck.
His eyes grew wide, and she couldn’t help but notice another part of his anatomy paid attention as well. “The locker room is there.” He gestured with his hand and looked away from her.
Harlow paused, the corners of her mouth twitching when she realized the misunderstanding. He thought she was undressing in front of him, and he was interested. Her stomach gave a little jump at the thought, and she was suddenly aware of him, not just as a competitor but as a man.
Should that worry her? She decided it didn’t. If anything, their mutual attraction was to her benefit. She’d learned to fight from a man. He’d likely never fought a woman. She was not above using that to her advantage.
“I’ll be quick.” She winked at him, then drifted toward the locker room. Oh, she could have explained that she was fully dressed beneath her outer layer of clothing, but what would that serve? She emerged moments later in her fighting gear, surprised and disappointed to find they were no longer alone. A dark-haired woman with a sword stood with her back to Harlow at the center of the ring, speaking to Marius. As Harlow drew closer, she turned.
“Avery Tanglewood,” the queen’s sister said by way of introduction. She extended her hand. Harlow pumped it twice awkwardly and gave her a friendly smile. Shaking hands wasn’t a popular gesture in Paragon, although it was practiced occasionally by transplants from other kingdoms.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again. We spoke briefly at the coronation, but I’m sure you don’t remember me,” Harlow said.
Avery’s eyes narrowed. “Oh… You’re the old doormaker’s daughter. I remember.”
An expression she couldn’t quite read passed over the other woman’s face, and Harlow had to take a steadying breath. Everyone knew about her family and her father’s past. Avery probably didn’t trust her. A pit formed in her chest, and Harlow’s confidence melted into the ground. She wished she had her dress back.
“You probably are wondering why I’m here,” Avery said. “Marius asked me to act as matchkeeper. Have to make sure it’s a fair fight, right?”
Marius rolled his eyes. “Ironic, considering it’s already unfair.”
“Why’s that?” Avery asked.
“Because she’s a female!” he said as if it were perfectly obvious.
Harlow bristled.
Avery’s gaze swept between her and Marius, and she gave a low chuckle. “As your matchkeeper, I find nothing unfair about this contest. Take your places.” She backed away and stepped onto the matchkeeper’s platform.
Harlow cracked her neck and gave her arms and legs a quick stretch before taking her position at the center of the ring. She thought she was ready, but when Marius took his place across from her, she wasn’t sure. He’d removed his shirt, and everything she knew about pit fighting was crowded out of her brain by the magnificence of the man standing in front of her.
When she’d seen him at the coronation, he’d been thin and pale, still using a cane to walk. No more. His hair might be white and his eyes silver, but his skin was now a healthy golden brown. Dragons could use illusion, but she’d always been able to tell when men layered it on. If Marius was enhancing himself, he wasn’t doing much.
And the symbols… Goddess, they were beautiful. Dragons couldn’t normally be tattooed because their flesh healed so quickly and thoroughly that their skin pushed out the ink before it could become a permanent part of them. But these tattoos had appeared when Marius rose from the dead, and they were magical. Harlow tried not to gape at the intricate patterns they painted across the muscles of his torso.
Harlow had never seen a dragon male with anything like them, and she desperately longed to trace them with her fingers. Not only were they exotic, but they shimmered when he moved, making it impossible to ignore any beautiful flex of muscle that was happening in his chest and abs.
His silvery-white wings arched over his shoulders. “See something you like?”
Her gaze shot up to meet his. Crap. She’d been staring. Ogling, really. Her mouth felt dry. She swallowed.
He smirked.
Her eyes narrowed. Oh hell no. Two could play at this game. Slowly, as if a good stretch brought her all the pleasure in the world, she unfolded her wings.
