THIRTY-FIVE
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #31:
Expect pain.
CELINE
I slide into my padded wraps, flexing my knuckles against the jelly-lined fabric. Black and designed to look like leather, they’re more a part of my outfit than actual protection. With opponents who attack with magic or fangs, getting out of the way is usually a better strategy than trying to block.
My itch is acting up tonight.
“You good?” Lyss asks, standing on her tiptoes to reach her locker.
Hiding a smile, I reach over her and grab the black tank top she’s trying and failing to get down. “We need to get you a stool.”
Lyss gasps, snatching the shirt from me and clutching it to her chest. “And ruin my street cred? You wouldn’t dare.”
“Please.” Dom winces while awkwardly attempting to wrap gauze around his ribs. “If you keep poking holes in everyone you fight, I don’t think anyone will say shit about a boost.”
Lyss pulls the tank top over her head, her voice muffled by the fabric. “How’s your spleen?”
Dom shrugs. “Which one, bitch? You tore it in half. Math logic says I have two now.”
“Math logic,” I snort. “Otherwise known as my favorite subject in school.”
Dom tosses a playful punch at my shoulder. Their fight last week was grisly. Like, Resker called a pause afterward so someone could mop up the blood, grisly. I can’t believe Dom is planning to get back in the cage already.
“Is it safe for you to shift before it’s fully healed?” I ask him, curious about how that will affect the process.
“Trying to uncover my secrets, Verity?”
I roll my eyes but move to his side to help him secure his bandage. He grunts his thanks, and a handful of Ciprian’s silly nicknames for him run through my head.
“Never,” I tease. “I wouldn’t dare risk the wrath of the Hogfather.”
He groans, and my lips twitch.
“Resker still won’t let you change it?”
“She said I had my chance, wasted it, and I’ll be Tusker until I die.”
That sounds like a threat. Grateful that I’m standing behind him, I grin as I imagine Dom trailing after the terrifying woman and begging to change his stage name. I bet her entire body became a scowl.
“She could change her mind.” I toss in the conditional to avoid an outright lie and pat him on the back.
Dom cranes his neck, hope transforming his square features into an almost boyish expression. “You think so?”
I nod, accepting the punishing sting of the nonverbal lie. There’s no chance in the many fucked-up realms that Resker would walk back a decision. That would make her look weak, atleast in her mind, but I can’t tell Dom that... the poor guy has two spleens.
Lyss peeks under Dom’s gauze and sighs with relief. “It’s not infected. That’s good.”
Dom and I exchange a glance. “Did you poke me with poisonous toes, eight legs?”
She shakes her head, then buries her head in my empty locker... the only one she can reach. I raise my eyebrows. Lyss is a terrible liar. Poisoned legs would explain why I had such a hard time healing from her attack during our audition fight. Good to know.
I survey the locker room, taking it in. Most of the fighters are focused on themselves, with only a few clustered in groups like ours. To my surprise, Dom and Lyss were determined to befriend me. Even more surprising, I don’t hate it.
“Double-check the board,” Resker shouts, poking her head through the door and smacking the flat of her hand against the wall to make sure she has everyone’s attention. “The first fight starts in five.”
