She rolls her eyes but says ‘thank you’ to the servant who finishes cleaning up the mess.
“I could talk to Piominko about saying more positive things to him.” I offer, rubbing my hand down Mathilda’s arm. “What Tane needs is a self-esteem boost.”
Luna shakes her head. The white strands glimmer in the flood of sunlight through the windows. “What he needs is to not hold his feelings back until he explodes. He needs to let it out.”
She leans back in her chair, crossing one ankle over another like this is the conversations she has all day, every day.
“How does he do that?” Mina asks.
“We need to have a combat game,” Luna replies, drumming her fingers across the table. “Like a King of the Mountain thing. Let the men beat the shit out of each other.”
I scoff at her idea. Injured warriors are the last thing we need before a major battle. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, looking around the table.
“What we need is one of our best fighters to get his shit together. The men need a pissing contest. I say we give them one.” Her eyes glow with the promise of violence and even I have to lock my muscles in place to keep from shuddering.
When Mathilda and Mina nod, I realize I might have been wrong in my assumption. And that we are, in fact, going to let the men beat the shit out of each other.
Luckily,everyone from the various districts had still hung around after the feast. The training ground fence is lined with warriors from all over the realm. It reminds me of my first official training when it was announced I was going to be stayinghere. My nose throbs thinking about how it was broken here—by Julius.
The ghost of that pain is snuffed out by a smirk. Lachlan was at that training before he was kicked out for intruding. I lean against the maple tree, its scarred trunk comforting to me as I watch the rest of the stragglers make their way to the fence line.
As this was Luna’s idea, I put her in charge of announcing the rules, and how the victor would be decided. She stands in the center of the grounds, dragging a spear behind her, creating the perfect circle before she stands in the middle of it. The competitors and spectators fall silent as she finishes and looks around expectantly.
“The rules are simple. Stay in the ring, and you win. Get beat out of the ring, and you lose. Winner is the last man standing.” She takes a step, as if to leave, before pausing. “Winner replaces Tane in the inner circle.”
My mouth drops open.
That is not what was decided upon at all. But she holds her hand up. “Only the best can serve my queen. As Tane no longer feels he’s capable of that, he must be replaced for the benefit of the realm. The strongest only.” Her voice resonates around the grounds.
I make to step towards her, but Mathilda grips my arm. “Don’t. She’s right.”
“What?” I splutter, whipping my head towards her to see her staring at Tane. His face displays a tenacity I haven’t seen in quite some time.
“I do not want Tane to think we wouldeverreplace him,” I whisper to Mathilda.
“It doesn’t matter what we think. He needs to prove this to himself. We could tell him he’s worthy until the world turns to ash. But until he proves it to himself, it won’t matter. Tane needs this, Lena.”
He steps into the ring and is challenged by a wiry man fromthe Roman district. Tane defeats him in two moves. The next challenger steps into the ring and even I pause.
A behemoth of a man rivaling even Harald in size. Speaking of the devil, he walks through the archway with Piominko. They make their way to my side and the warriors in their path give them a wide berth.
“King of the Ring, is it?” Harald asks, watching as the giant of a man swings a broadsword at Tane.
“Yep.” The word comes out of my mouth like a pop. I lean around Harald to see Piominko watching the fight intently.
“Do you think he’ll win?” I ask. The behemoth keeps charging at Tane, but in a move that’s surprising, Tane flits out of his way, quick-footed.
“I think he’ll win if he chooses to,” Piominko speaks quietly, and it’s difficult to hear him over the cheering spectators as Tane strikes, catching his opponent unaware. Lachlan appears at my side with Evander in tow, having caught Piominko’s answer.
“What do ye mean, if he chooses to?” Lachlan’s voice is laced with concern, but he flashes a smile at me before placing a kiss on my temple.
“I mean, the opponent is not the man before him, but the two wolves fighting inside of him.”
He’s not wrong. Tane is one of the best warriors I know, but his self-loathing is the biggest threat to his victory.
“That’s an old parable, isn’t it?” Evander asks, his eyes never leaving Tane as he dives out of the way of the broadsword.
I nod, but Piominko answers. “Yes. The Cherokee are accredited for it, not my people. But the meaning rings true. Whichever wolf you feed—wins. And Tane has been feeding the wrong one for a long time.”
