I flatly refused to play on any other horse but Wings. Therefore, the rest of the players were forced to follow my lead.
Another rule we tweaked was to have a longer half-time. Instead of the stupid length of ten-minutes, we stipulated an hour—the horses needed it, seeing as we didn’t change mounts.
And an hour would be perfect for what I had planned.
I had every intention of seeking out Nila and finishing what she started this morning. What I wanted to do to her would be a fuck-load better than any showerhead.
The umpire cantered onto the pitch. The game we were about to play would be fast, brutal, and mentally draining. Men were known to break legs from an incorrectly wielded hook or concussion from falling mid-flight.
The umpire spun his speech while everyone nodded but didn’t listen. We all focused on the hard white ball in his hand.
The moment the ball hit the turf, it would be on.
The horses jostled and pawed, tasting imminent war.
After the umpire had finished his spiel, the other two members of our team came forward. In a close circle, we slapped mallets in a final hurrah before kick-off.
“I got your back,” Kes said, his eyes glowing beneath the shadow of his helmet. His matching waistcoat held the number four. His role was to protect the leader, stop others from scoring, and had no restrictions on where he could go on the field.
I nodded, tugging at my cuffs and curling my gloved fingers firmly around my mallet. “First play is offensive. Steal the ball on the throw-in and slam this chukker so we can crush their hopes.”
I wore the number three on our team. My role was tactical leader and the best player—it wasn’t ego, just simple fact.
My teammates nodded and touched their visors in acknowledgement.
Excitement bubbled in my chest. It was such a foreign elusive emotion that I quickly became drunk on it.
Trotting to our places, I smiled at Kes, “Ready, brother?” Out here there were no his or mine. No firstborn bullshit. No diamond smuggling or family legacy.
Just speed and accuracy.
Kes smirked. “Ready to whoop your ass.”
“We’re on the same team, moron.”
He laughed. “On here we are, but we both know we can still lose even when on the same side.”
Wasn’t that the God-awful truth?
We were flesh and blood. By right, we should have each other’s back—yet we’d been bred to compete against one another. If I were suddenly to ‘disappear or have an accident’, Kes would take my place and rule.
Not because he wanted it—he already knew I would give him more than our father ever did—but because he was the substitute.
Born as a plan B.
At least there had been some planning in his conception. Daniel, however, was the accident. Not required and definitely not wanted.
Kes held up his mallet. I did the same and we swatted a salute. “Let the best man win.”
I nodded. “Best man.”
Two minutes later the bugle sounded, the ball flew, and the world ceased to exist as I threw myself into the match.
Chapter Ten
Nila
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