She huffs. “What happened to your confidence that you could win?”
I open my mouth, a flippant retort brimming on my lips, when the sound of grating metal has my attention moving to the gate. With a rumble, it splits down the middle and begins to open.
Shit. Fuck. Blooming hell.
It’s time.
I take a deep breath, but my senses are overwhelmed with a sudden influx of smell. Sand, sweat, and an assortment of food and refreshments from the concession stands mingle with subtler aromas, ones that tell of excitement, nervous anticipation, awe, mundane joy. They stream through the ever-widening gate, emanating from the spectators crowding the stands. It’s enough to make my heart pound. To make me feel suddenly small and foolish and in way over my head.
Then the fragrance of apple blossoms cuts through everything else, narrowing down to a single scent profile behind me. A small, soft hand squeezes my fingers.
I turn to find Astrid, and she gives my hand another squeeze. “Good luck, Torben.”
The sound of my name on her lips helps clear my mind further. I can do this. I must. For us both.
I give her a halfhearted smile that only tugs one side of my lips. “I’ll try not to die.”
With that, I stride under the open archway and into the pit.
16
TORBEN
Ibarely pay attention to the Master of Ceremonies as he welcomes the guests to the duel. Instead, all my attention is fixated on the griffin who paces at the opposite side of the pit, wings splayed out wide. She halts and snaps her beak in my direction, her front talons curling into the sand while her hind paws stomp in agitation. It’s obvious she isn’t pleased about seeing me in place of the ogre. I do my best to keep my composure, standing tall with my hands fisted at my sides. She returns to pacing as the Master of Ceremonies goes over the rules. I watch the griffin’s every step, every move, calculating everything about her.
Despite having never stepped foot in Department Wrath before I came here to capture Astrid Snow, I’ve heard of Helody. Heard of her famed actions in this very pit. I’ve even bet on her matches a time or two, back when I used to frequent the gambling halls. Betting on events like races and fights wasn’t the safest thing to gamble on, unlike my preferred vice—betting on card games where I could use my sense of smell to determine my opponents’ bluffs—but it provided a thrill nonetheless. And whenever I put a wager on Helody, I won. It was as close to a sure bet as it got.
Of course, I’ve since learned there is no such thing as a sure bet. No such thing as smelling every bluff, catching every deception. A hard lesson to learn, and one that cost me everything.
But now, the reminder that sure bets don’t exist is all that keeps me on my feet. All that keeps me rooted in place as a vicious griffin hisses in my direction. My former self would have scoffed at the thought of betting in favor of her opponent.
But I’m not my former self. Torben Davenport lost his final wager and brought shame to the legacy his father built for him.
I, the Huntsman, will win.
It’s my only choice.
“Begin!” the Master of Ceremony announces.
Blood rushes from my face, but I’m already poised for Helody’s attack. She charges at me from the other side of the pit, her body quivering with rage. I sidestep at the last minute, and her talons meet only air.
She stomps back, blinking several times as if she can’t fathom how she missed me. Clearly she thought this fight would be over in an instant. For her, that wouldn’t be unprecedented.
She angles her body and shifts to the side. I mirror her moves, keeping several feet of space between us. She shifts the other direction, and again I do the same.
“I didn’t expect you to have any skill,” comes Helody’s deep feminine voice. “It doesn’t take much to kill a fool like Murtis.”
I nearly bite back a cutting retort over how she wouldn’t have needed two nights to fight her opponent if that were the case. But I hold my tongue, knowing it would be foolish to aggravate her further. Not only that, but my barb would be unfounded. I know she only kept herself from unleashing her full wrath on Murtis last night because Madame Fury demanded it.
We slowly begin to circle one another, analyzing each other’s moves and reaction times. Helody keeps her head held high, her posture regal. Griffins are proud creatures. That’s something I can work with.
“I respect you, Helody,” I say, keeping my tone both firm and sincere.
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have stolen my vengeance from me.” She darts forward, beak snapping. I dodge to the side and swipe at her long neck with claw-tipped fingers. She eyes my claws until they shrink back into humanlike digits, but she doesn’t close in for another attack. It was a test, then. She knows I have another form. One I haven’t shown her yet.
My heart slams against my ribs. Everything inside me begs to shift fully into a bear. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of analyzing all my capabilities. Not yet.
“I only killed Murtis because he attacked me and my companion,” I say as we return to circling each other. “Our lives were in danger.”
