Before any of the men could respond, Ilain answered, “Ethenn is going to fight.”
Vayden looked momentarily baffled, then amused. “Really? Why?”
“Because he’s an idiot,” she muttered, then pushed her wooden bowl of stew away from her.
Ethenn’s neck warmed. Why wassheupset? Why should she even care if he fought?
“Our next fighters,” the announcer called as the Axe slumped at the bar to forget his loss, “are Vergus the Bloodwolf and Loxley the Slayer.”
At his moniker, Ethenn readily unbuttoned his coat as his friends stared at him. Deckard, Evylin, and Auden rose from their table, a combination of curious and concerned, as Thom gaped at him.
“TheSlayer?” he said wryly.
Ethenn tossed his coat over the back of his chair and began removing his weapons next. “I have a reputation,” he said coldly. His knivesthunkedheavily against the tabletop.
“For killing?” Thom’s laughter said he didn’t believe it.
Ethenn simply continued to divest himself of the weapons hidden on his person. He didn’t want to be accused of cheating or of the intent to pull a blade. Regardless, the weapons would inhibit his ability to move as freely as he liked.
Ethenn removed his boots, and Deckard came to his side. “Are you sure this is wise?” he asked.
Though he worried the colonel would disapprove, Ethenn held his ground. “I can get us a third room,” he explained. “But only if I come out the champion.”
The troop exchanged looks of understanding.
“Yeah, but that room’s gonna be for you and your lady love, isn’t it?” Rafferty said. “Why should the rest of us care?”
“It’ll make it one less person to squeeze into a tiny room,” Thom said. “I’m for it.”
The rest nodded in agreement, but Ilain glared at Ethenn. When he caught her gaze, he held it, imparting the unspoken through one look—he was doing this forher.
The announcer appeared at their table. “Ready, Slayer?” he asked cheerfully.
Internally, Ethenn bristled at the name as he always had but, nevertheless, donned the persona he’d been given those years ago. With a sharp nod, he stepped toward the fighting ring. His opponent was already there, stretching an arm across his bare chest. Vergus the Bloodwolf was spry and lean, with black hair shaved close to his scalp. His dark skin almost glowed in the dim light. He had a scar running from his clavicle down to his pectoral, and he wore a bored expression that said he’d done this many times already.
Standing barefoot on the wooden floor planks, Ethenn tested their warp and spring. They were worn greatly with age, leaving them soft and pliable. Dark spots stained the wood. Ethenn wondered how many men had bled in this ring. Then he stopped thinking altogether and readied himself to fight.
As he faced off against the Bloodwolf, the crowd surrounded Ethenn. After weeks of training, his instinct was to tap into his magic, the cool tingle of it already bristling under his skin. But he tamped it down, knowing that he couldn’t use the magic if he wanted to make it look like he could barely win these first couple of fights.
The announcer stood on a crate by the side of the ring. He raised a hand in the air, then brought it sailing down. “Fight!”
Ethenn and the Bloodwolf circled, sidestepping as they sized one another up. To ensure his opponent didn’t have enough time to make a judgment, Ethenn charged the Bloodwolf. He didn’t bother with slow jabs or feints; he thrust his fist forward and connected with the man’s wrist as he brought it up to protect his face. Pain lanced through Ethenn’s fingers at the hard hit. The Bloodwolf’s eyes widened a fraction, evidently unaccustomed to such an aggressive fighting style. But this was how Ethenn won. He went in fiercely and without fear. More often than not, his tactics wound up ending the fight far faster but with far more personal liability.
The Bloodwolf was prepared now. He swung his fist, and Ethenn ducked. A swell of magic rushed through him, but he shoved it away, then landed another punch, this time to the Bloodwolf’s side.
Angered, the man attacked with renewed intensity. He feinted right, then cut in with his left. Had Ethenn been using his magic, he would have been able to stop him. Instead, he caught the blow on his chin, turning with the hit to lessen the damage.
Ethenn heard a feminine gasp come from somewhere behind him. He didn’t have to look to know who it was.Ilain. He ground his teeth against the distraction, but in the split-second diversion, the Bloodwolf hit him again. His sternum erupted with pain. It ricocheted through his ribcage, causing his lungs to wheeze.
Focus.
Ethenn knocked the Bloodwolf’s arm back and followed it up with a punch. He connected with the man’s chest, right where the scar began. The Bloodwolf snarled, then attacked. In a flurry, he landed three more hits to Ethenn’s chest and one to his face. If Ethenn hadn’t been defending so well, the man would have broken his nose. Still, blood trickled from his nostril.
He didn’t bother to wipe it away but decided he’d allowed enough hits to justify the fight’s end.
With a careful weight shift, Ethenn leaned back and then struck out with his foot. He connected with the Bloodwolf’s calf, sending him to a knee, and followed it up with three successive hits: one to his arm, one to his clavicle, one to his jaw.
The Bloodwolf’s spittle and blood dripped to the floor. He stared dazedly but managed to hold his arms back in front of him. Ethenn leaped to one foot and brought his other up in a sweeping kick, completely subverting the Bloodwolf’s attempt at defense and connecting with the side of his head.
