Which left him with an ax to grind and only one place in Paragon to grind it.
“Help you?” the man behind the desk said without looking up.
“I’m here to complete the trials and be ranked for competition.” Marius stared down at the top of the dragon’s head. It tipped up slowly, and the guy gave him a slow once-over. He leaned back and crossed his arms.
“You sure you want to do that?”
“I said I do.”
“No one’s going to let you win this time, Marius. In fact, there are plenty of fighters who remember you and would love to see you hurt or dead.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
The man scribbled some notes and handed him the slip of parchment. “Fill this out. What level do you want to try for first?”
“Champion.”
The man’s brows stretched toward his hairline. “There’s a difference between being confident and having a death wish, Marius. Are you sure you don’t want to fight a season in advanced? Different rules in that league.”
“Champion.”
“All right. It’s your head. Try to keep it attached to your body.”
Marius frowned. Had things changed so much since he’d competed before? “It’s illegal to try to sever an opponent’s head.”
The guy shrugged and narrowed his eyes. “Accidents happen. In the champion league, we let them.”
Marius completed the form and handed the parchment back to the man. “Champion.”
“Arena B.” He pointed vaguely to the left and handed him another parchment with a number on it.
Marius followed the scent of sweat and the sound of grunts through the underground tunnels to a small, sparsely populated arena.
A stern dragon held out his hand without looking up from his clipboard. “Number.”
Marius handed him the parchment.
“We allow observers in champion trials. People like to get a take on the competition before they place bets on future matches. Try not to get blood on anyone in the stands.”
Marius grunted.
“Take your place.”
His heart beat faster as he entered the ring and scanned the stands. He wanted to see her. Harlow spent time at the pits, had made a living for a year gambling here. She wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. Why would she be? It was the middle of the afternoon. Roosevelt had sent word that he’d hired her at the Silver Sunset. She was probably working.
The thought of her serving other males suddenly made his blood boil. As soon as it was safe, he was going to marry her, and then she would only do the work she wanted to do, preferably somewhere like the palace, or really anywhere not frequented by men… ever. Still grumbling, he stepped up to the line.
His competitor strode in from the opposite side of the ring. Fuck, the guy was a chunk of mountain. He stopped at the opposing line. Marius, who was no small male himself, looked up, up, and up to meet his stare.
“Dax,” Marius said by way of greeting.
“Marius,” the mountain sneered. “They said it was you, but I didn’t believe it.” He cracked his knuckles.
Marius swallowed. “How many times have you been champion now?”
“Since you died and I didn’t have to pretend to lose to you anymore? Over a hundred. Went pro decades ago. I do this all day, every day.” Dax’s eyes were cold pits of steel that glowed with the presence of his inner dragon. This guy was a beast.
Marius snorted. “Seems odd they’d require me to beat you just to fight in the same league as you, considering your rank.”
