Eoin nodded and quickly began shouldering through the smelly, sweaty mass of humanity. Hannah followed him closely, and she doubted that anyone noticed her even with a parrot perched on her shoulder. Every gaze was riveted to Eoin’s massive form and huge fists.
Within a few seconds, they reached the crowd’s nexus. Eoin halted abruptly, and Hannah smashed painfully into his back. Yelping, she rubbed her nose. She would have much preferred a more pleasurable way to discover just how firm Eoin’s muscles were. Still wincing, she peeked around the duke and then froze too.
Two lads were clobbering each other in a thirty-by-thirty-foot pit a few feet below Hannah’s toes. Although she had witnessed plenty of street fights and even attended a few matches while dressed as a boy at Championess Quick’s amphitheater, she was stunned by the particular cruelness that the youths displayed. Viciously, they tore each other’s hair and skin as if their only goal was to inflict the most pain on the other.
When a bigger adolescent slammed the scrawnier one to the ground, Hannah gasped, not bothering to suppress the noise. She couldn’t even hear her own exhalation over the enthusiastic shouts encouraging the juvenile to keep hitting his prone opponent’s face.
She knew the fallen boy—or had at least met him. He’d been the young pickpocket who’d tried to steal from Eoin only two days before. Back then, she’d spotted bruises and welts on his arms, but she’d thought he’d received them from a kidsman or from encroaching on another urchin’s hunting grounds.
Blood sprayed from the boy’s nose, and the other fighter turned to kicking his ribs. Hannah tensed, ready to jump into the ring herself—even though she realized she would likelyonly get beaten. Beside her, Eoin shifted his body in obvious preparation to assist the lad.
But before either of them could react, a man dressed in a tattered silk coat stepped into the ring. He pointed to the dominant competitor. The youth climbed out of the pit to cheers and slaps on the back. The fallen boy was hauled up by his collar and half tossed, half forcibly guided up the wooden wall. He landed at the feet of a burly man standing next to Eoin and Hannah.
The fellow raised his foot. Although Hannah couldn’t hear every screamed word, she caught a few. “Worthless cur.” “Lost… three shillings.”
Hannah almost dove to cover the boy’s body, but Eoin was faster. He simply moved in front of the prone lad. “Will you stop if I pay you that amount?”
“Eh?” the man asked as he bobbled a bit, likely from drink and pent-up ire.
“If I give you three shillings, will you leave the child alone?” Eoin asked.
“What child?” the man sneered.
“The one behind me.” Eoin’s eyes blazed, but still he made no move to attack even though he could have easily defeated the smaller, drunk fellow. Instead, he calmly withdrew the coins.
“That’s no child. He’s just a fighting mutt from the streets.”
“Will you take the money and stop hurting the boy? I won’t ask again.” Eoin’s voice had become cool—deadly cool.
Even the inebriated man registered the chill. His mouth flapped closed, and he snatched the money from Eoin’s outstretched palm. Then he slunk a few feet away, glancing back once or twice as if making sure that Eoin wouldn’t follow.
Eoin bent to help the lad, but the adolescent half lurchedand half stumbled to his feet. He clutched his side and glared. Hannah could see a flicker of surprise in Eoin’s blue-green eyes, but she understood the boy’s venomous reaction. The child had to fend for himself, and he’d probably learned early that nothing came without cost. Hannah’s parents might have shielded and loved her, but she’d grown up close enough to the edges of society that she could comprehend what the lad had endured.
“What do you want?” the boy demanded as he wiped his bloodied lip with the hand not gripping his ribs.
“Just to help. That’s all. You have nothing to fear from me.” Eoin’s measured voice was tinged with kindness.
The boy didn’t stop glowering, and his slight body remained tense, clearly poised to bolt. But he didn’t dart away. Perhaps he expected others who lost their bets to retaliate against him. It might be common in the vicious hellhole. For whatever reason, though, the lad lingered near them like a hunted deer huddled below a rock shelter.
The fellow in tattered finery announced the next fight—this one between two women, who were naked from their waists up. This wasn’t about boxing talent. It was about the prurient interests of the onlookers.
“I—I think we know what happens underneath the Horse and Hen.” Eoin’s normally even voice was shaky and hollow. “There’s no need to stay for another match.”
Eoin was clenching his jaw so hard that his cheek muscles had dented. His big hands flexed as he stared at the fighting women. It was clear to Hannah that he was imagining his own mother in that ring. Had she participated in catfights in this subterranean room before she’d married Eoin’s father? What about after? Had she found herself forced back into this brutal life in order to feed herself and her daughter?
No wonder Eoin’s aquamarine eyes had gone dark. Hannah knew the pain she experienced when she thought about what her father and uncle had endured when they’d been shoved into a dark hold of a ship along with hardened adult criminals.
“I agree that we should leave,” Hannah said quietly. Eoin’s sorrow wasn’t the only reason for an immediate departure. “I think I know why that guard allowed us to enter.”
“He thought I was a fighter,” Eoin said grimly, tapping at one of the fake bruises on his face.
Hannah nodded. Eoin wouldn’t survive long if forced into that ring. Even his bulk couldn’t compete against the skill of a hardened prizefighter.
Before heading to the exit, Hannah gave one last glance toward the ring. The women were both yanking each other’s long locks and shuffling in an agonizing circle.
Hannah was just about to turn when the master of ceremonies jumped into the ring, his tattered coattails flapping from the effort. He raced toward the women and started shouting, “Break it up! Break it up!”
Protests erupted, and the screaming caused pain to explode inside Hannah’s head. The pressure swelled with the ferocity of the crowd’s ire. Gnawing unease swept through her. Something wasn’t right. The women ignored the command as they each tried to force the other to the ground.
