Five heads twist at my entry. Beckman, easily the largest man in the room, returns to his meditation. But the others are all eyes and a torrent of emotions at Kalyan’s presence.
Rakesh stands and steps into my trajectory. “Who the blood is this?”
I try to hide my hatred. Nightcaster. As he speaks his arms flex. He’s had ink sketched into his upper arms, trying to present himself as an eight or a nine. Everyone knows, can see the color difference. He’s also the only one who fights shirtless. The muscles and abs in full view are as intimidating and disgusting as ever.
“A friend, new fighter. He’s taking my place against Tenson.”
Tenson, with his scruff of brown hair, pops up. “What the blood? Sims didn’t clear this with me.”
“Go talk to him yourself.” I gesture to the door.
Tenson slides around Rakesh and then pushes past Kalyan and me. “Knew you would be scared when you got to the big leagues,” he scoffs.
I turn to Rakesh. “Get out of the way. I need to prepare him for the fight.”
“Friend, huh? All the times you could have had me, Jaya, and you chose this?” Rakesh gestures to Kalyan as if I have brought in trash off the sidewalk.
Could havehadRakesh? I don’t want to even touch him. He’s been like this since I arrived here: harassing me, insinuating his sexual prowess. It’s sickening. One would think after I beat him in a match a few months ago it would have settled the sexual fantasy he has cast upon me. Instead it’s gotten worse. He doesn’t want only sex anymore. He wants domination. More than any Vencrin in here, Rakesh rattles my blood. Can make me shrink back into the younger and less confident Adraa. I hate him forthat.
I’ve never been fearful of my looks or power before, but when people like Rakesh exist it’s hard not to wonder whether looking any different could lessen my burden. It’s his fault, not mine. I know whatever I looked like he would harass me. But I can’t help but wonder, could his foul tongue and fouler mind be contained if I changed anything?
Kalyan tightens behind me. Oh Gods, I forgot. He’s a better, kinder person than I am. He might try to defend my honor or some crap, even not knowing who I really am.
“Get out of the way,” I repeat to Rakesh.
Rakesh shifts into a fighting stance, but it’s Kalyan’s eyes he meets over my shoulder. Oh blood no! I don’t get to be dismissed for a fight just because now I have a man at my back. No matter how much Rakesh scares me.
“We don’t have time for this.” I step to the right.
Rakesh shoots out an arm as a barrier. Everyone pauses except Beckman, who stands from one of the wobbly wooden benches Sims provides.
Then Rakesh speaks. “Hope she’s softer and wetter on the inside.”
The scene erupts, mostly because I’m pissed.“Kavacraw,”I cast, and a red flurry of magic smokes into a blockade between Kalyan and Rakesh. Then I grab Rakesh’s wrist, the one right in front of me, and twist and bend it upward with force. My shield catches Kalyan’s fist, barely. He hadn’t cast any spell behind it, which I was counting on. His punch sinks into my shield like sand, and flecks of red magic splinter off.
I have only a second to examine my handiwork because with a yelp of pain Rakesh swings for me with his free arm. I release his wrist, duck, and push further into the locker room. Far enough away and he’ll have to cast something instead of taking a swing.
“Leave the fight for the ring!” Beckman shouts in his deep voice.
Kalyan bats away my shield, which is already dissolving. I throw my hands up in the air in surrender to Rakesh, but mentally prepare another shield. Red magic floats down my left arm in warning. Rakesh is steaming with fury. He would have rather taken Kalyan’s punch than my wristlock, I’m sure. At least then he could have said a man made him shout in pain.
“Listen to Beckman,” I encourage.
I glance at Kalyan, who is assessing the situation in silence. He doesn’t look like he will throw a punch again, but his body angles like Riya’s sometimes does. Protective, guardlike, and, most important, ready to insert himself in the middle of a magical brawl.
“Rakesh!” Beckman shouts again.
With that, Rakesh shoves himself toward the curtain. “Bloody bitch.” This time the whispered phrase doesn’t bother me as much as Basu’s, because I’ve won this round.
Kalyan slides out of Rakesh’s way and toward me.
I find Beckman’s eyes and nod.
“Gods. She always that fast at casting?” Navin, one of the young fighters who has remained quiet, asks.
Beckman replies, but I don’t have time to listen, or care. I’m already marching toward the door on the far left.
I slam the door securely shut as soon as Kalyan is through it. With a flick of my hand I soundproof the doorframe. The room is a third the size of the main waiting area. It used to be the storage closet, and various like-minded tools are stacked on the far side. The rest of the space is for me and two other female fighters, who come around every once in a while. So the space is mostly mine. I have a locker, a bench, and all the firelight I need to make out the dirty corners and dusty nooks.
