Then I press a forearm on the man’s windpipe until he chokes, “Yield!”
I slap him open-handed. Just for the fun of it, just for the drama of his head snapping to the side. “Louder. With meaning. Let them hear you all the way in the castle.”
“I YIELD!”
The crowd erupts into angry mutters as I let go of the man, standing to wipe my blood from my forehead. The host of tonight’s shows, a portly man with a thick mustache, steps into the ring, hoists my wrist into the air and declares: “Alleycat wins! Next fight starts in twenty.”
Coins change hands, with the bounty going to the few who were wise enough to put money on me.
It always surprises me a little, the sheer number of people who bet for the other man. Even with the history to show them they shouldn’t.
A towel hits me in the face and I pull it off to see my trainer and neighbor Igor assessing me, his brown, weathered face unreadable. I duck under the sides of the ring and step over to him, my palm held out.
“Always straight to the coin with you, huh?” Igor grumbles.
“Me?” I bat my eyelashes, my voice high and sweet. “A refined lady like me would never think of something so crude as money. All I care about is tea and dresses and gossip.”
“Careful, you’re going to make that forehead wound bleed again.” Igor presses my winnings into my hand. “Good one, kiddo. Went on a little long for my taste, though. You should join a theater guild, with those pained cries of yours.”
I shrug, counting the coins and doing quick math. Eight silvers today, which will cover Mother’s medicine from the apothecary for the next two weeks. “You know the crowd needs to have hope, Igor. It makes it more fun for all of us if they think they actually have a chance.”
“Whatever gets you the win, kid.” He hands me a water flask and I gulp it down. “Davey is setting up a fight in two weeks for Colbridge. Remember that slippery motherfucker from last year? Fancy another go?”
I crack my neck, scanning the packed room for Lee. Even at my unusual height, it’s hard to see over the heads milling about the crowded floor.
“Sure, as long as you make certain the odds are against me. The apothecary has hiked up their prices. Apparently, some ingredients they need grow close to the front and have gotten hard to acquire. I’d like to see double this amount next time.”
Igor’s perpetual frown deepens. He’s an unhappy-looking person; always has been, for as long as I’ve known him, which has been my entire life.
He’s probably going to offer me help with mother’s medicine costs, something I’ve declined for years. I’m not above accepting help when I need it, but most everyone in the royal city of Sturmfrost, where we live—everyone in this entire goddess-forsaken country, actually—is struggling.
Our money, and our lives, goes to fighting the endless war with the Siphons.
I’m not about to take food off Igor’s plate. We’ll get by; we always do.
Just then, a warm arm slings around my shoulders and I’m hit by the clean smell of pine soap, a familiar scent that instantly puts me at ease. I lean against Lee’s hard body and look up into his face—the sharp lines of his jaw covered in a light scruff, his dazzling sea-blue eyes.
Lee shoots me a wicked grin that makes my thighs tighten and raises up a small clinking bag.
“Nice fight, kitten. Buy your sister something nice from me for her nameday.” He slides the bag into my pocket as I lean up, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling his face down toward mine, desperate for his touch.
Before I can kiss him, a throat clears and I glance up, my lustful brain gone hazy. Igor shifts awkwardly on his feet. Lee and I have been together for over a year now, but Igor still hasn’t gotten used to this.
“I’m going to go see Davey about the next fight,” Igor says, glancing away from us. “Leave you two at it. Find me before you head out, Meryn.”
He turns and walks away quickly, and I can’t help the laughter that spills out of me. “Poor Igor. I think we’ve scandalized him.”
Lee grins lazily down at me, his hands gripping my hips and tightening in a way that holds dark promise. He puts his mouth to my ear. “Glad he can’t read my thoughts,” he whispers, the heat of it sending my pulse into overdrive. “He’d never be able to look at me again.”
I move closer, but suddenly, a commotion kicks up. A disheveled man is pushing his way through the crowd.
His yellowed, unfocused eyes glare toward me.
“You cunt!” The man’s words slur as he staggers forward. “You fixed the bets, you stupid little bitch. I know you did!”
I laugh. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
Lee watches the scene coolly, amusement briefly turning up the edges of his mouth.
