Page 71 of House of the Iron Reaper

Ronan stands abruptly.

“With respect, you should mind your tongue,” he says quietly.

Aythora turns on him, suddenly seeming larger than she was before. Black scales ripple up the sides of her neck and jaw. If Ronan notices, he says nothing.

“He is not bowing out,” Deyanara says softly. She scrubs at her eyes and takes a seemingly fortifying breath. “He would not.”

Before Aythora can say anything, Deimos appears at the shrine doorway.

“No need to squabble,” he says. “I am here.”

Ronan’s shoulders remain tight but he sits back down. Aythora shrinks back to her usual size, scales melting away. She exhales smoke through her nose.

“My apologies, Ni Deimos,” she says. “Are you ready for the fight?”

Deimos gives a shot, sharp nod. Sweat glistens across his hairline, blue locks tied back. Aythora sizes him up, one brow cocked. She returns his nod.

“Very good. I shall be watching from the stands.” A pause. “Good luck.”

With that, she leaves. Ronan stands, moving to Deimos and clapping him heartily on the back.

“If I couldn’t smell the nerves coming off you, I’d never have known it,” he says with a grin.

“You can smell that?” Deimos frowns, sniffing his own shoulder.

“Werewolf noses.” Ronan taps his nose twice. “Matter of fact, I can smell the nerves coming off all of you. Usually it’s just Novalie.”

“M-Me?” I splutter before pointing at Deyanara. “She is the nervous one!”

“Not according to this.” Ronan taps his nose again and turns back to Deimos. “Besides, you’ve got nothing to worry about, my friend.”

Deimos makes an unconvinced noise. He looks down at his shaking hands before curling them into fists.

“I thought I would be more confident the second time,” he says quietly. “But somehow, I am less so.”

“Ronan is right,” Deyanara pipes up, even as she sweats as much as Deimos. “You have nothing to fear. Even if your faeth does not return, you have already proved yourself.”

She swallows, still pallid, but joins Ronan in giving Deimos a solid clap on the back. Deimos smiles, inhaling deeply.

“Thank you, Deyanara. Ronan. Novalie.” Deimos stands a little straighter. “I know it is not usual, but would you all wait here for me? In the tunnel? I… I would feel better, having you all closer.”

“Of course,” I say. “We will not be far from you.”

“Just don’t throw the doomkin at us,” Ronan says with a finger wag.

“I will certainly try my best.” Deimos grins.

“And now, for our second fight of the Rites, welcome Deimos of House Copper!” the Baidu’s voice rings out to a chorus of cheers.

We turn our heads towards the tunnel, and Deimos sucks in another deep, steadying breath. Without his usual jewellery, gems glitter in his hair instead, giving the appearance of a sparkling sea. Turquoise powder dusts his eyelids. The earrings I bought him at Lovers’ Rest sit pinned to the chest of his kaftan. I look at them with a rush of fondness.

He absently rubs the spot above his stomach where his krata sits, dormant.

“We are with you, Deimos,” I tell him firmly.

He gives us all one last look and the worry on his face cracks, making way for a smile.

“Even if I should lose today, even if I should not find my faeth…” He places a hand over his heart. “I am a better man for having met all of you.”