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Lio looked from one to the other as if he were assessing their strength.
Mak needed no pretense to be the picture of relaxation and confidence. He flexed a few muscles, and the auras of his enthusiasts in the crowd melted. A group of initiates in the front row whistled and hoisted a Stand banner with Mak’s name embroidered on it.
Lyros struck a pose and put a hand to his chin, studying Lio in return, as if he even needed to think of a strategy against the fighter he and Mak had taught. A rival group of initiates, Lyros’s devotees, cheered his name and waved his banner.
Lyros lifted a hand to them. Their eyes and fangs gleamed with adoration. Mak smirked and performed a round of stretches, and his own devotees went wild.
A third group in the audience raised a banner that showed their heroes’ two names intertwined. Those initiates chanted, “Telemakhos! Lysandros! Telemakhos! Lysandros!”
Well, at least Lio could be sure of one positive outcome from his defeat tonight. Mak and Lyros’s young adorers would have a good time. His Trial brothers probably wouldn’t make it home until veil hours were half over, there would be so many initiates lined up to beg them to shed a drop of blood on souvenirs.
“Those two are popular witheveryone.” Lord Adrogan’s laughter was snide.
“Especially each other, I take it,” Lord Gaius put in dryly.
“There’s only one real man in the entire Stand.” Lord Adrogan’s tone dripped with condescension. “Which one do you suppose he is?”
Although the men’s insults came as no surprise, they whipped up a wave of anger in Lio that had his fangs unsheathing and his blood pounding.
And had him all the more determined to make tonight’s plan a success. This fury was not what his Trial brothers needed from him right now. It was Mak and Lyros who had taught Lio the dangers of anger in battle. He must make them proud today and fight better than he ever had before. To do that, he must keep a clear head.
As he and his Trial brothers had agreed, Lio turned to Lyros and bowed. “Steward Lysandros, would you be so generous as to answer my challenge?”
Lyros bowed in return. “It will be my honor.”
Mak came to his Grace’s side. He bit his palm and clasped Lyros’s, pulling their joined hands close to his heart. Lyros touched a hand to Mak’s face, then descended the dais to join Lio in the open space below the embassy’s seats.
“Apollon’s son versus one of the Stand,” Chrysanthos said with relish. “This will be good.”
“The Hephaestion defender comes from a family of artists, doesn’t he?” Lord Adrogan asked. “My last venison jerky on the bloodborn.”
Lio and Lyros exchanged wicked smiles. Lord Adrogan was about to lose his last venison jerky.
“Tenebrans have a taste for blood sport.” Lio spoke low enough that only Lyros would hear. “Let’s show them how real Hesperines fight.”
“This is where our ruse ends,” Lyros reminded him. “We have to make this real.”
“My teachers prepared me for this night. I am ready.”
“We are proud of you, Trial brother.”
“That is a greater honor than any victory.”
On the dais, Aunt Lyta bit her hand and held it high, cupping her blood in her palm. “This is a Glimpse of Mortality match. To win, trap your opponent in what would be a fatal position.”
Lio and Lyros gave a nod, watching each other.
Cassia’s heartbeat was a sound that reached Lio despite all the noise, a rhythm that transcended his surroundings. He attuned to her within the rhythm of his own blood, where he carried her, and his body relaxed into a ready stance. Whenever she had been stuck at the guest house, and he and his Trial brothers had found time for some sparring matches to prepare for tonight, he had realized what a difference it made in the ring to be empowered by his Grace’s blood.
Lyros stood still, his gaze and aura sunk so deep in his discipline, he was impossible to read without the mind magic that was forbidden in the gymnasium. Lio let sight fade to only part of his awareness. He listened, although the audience was so loud, it would be difficult to hear his Trial brother’s moves. He waited to feel a change in the air upon his skin or a vibration under his feet.
Aunt Lyta fisted her hand. Her blood plummeted. Lio heard the first drop hit the dais.
Suddenly Lyros was no longer there in front of him. Lyros’s favorite opening moves ran through Lio’s mind. Too many to predict. Lio waited on his senses.
He felt Lyros’s ankle near the back of his own just in time to twist out of the way. Wisdom’s Precipice as an opening strike?
This was going to be a real fight, indeed.
