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For good measure, I add, “I’m pretty sure she’ll hurt anyone looking at either of your cocks.”
Gus’ cursing lets me know he had forgotten about that as well.
Fucking amateurs.
Cia is still on her knees and the look she gives me can only be described as a horny psycho, one that’s pleased with their reputation. “You’re not wrong,” she primly states. The smug look is wiped off her face as Kai presses the buttons on the control again. “Shit… oh my… don’t stop.” Her moans are throaty, and her eyes flutter closed as she succumbs to the pleasure.
“This is going to be a fun afternoon,” Kai says, stuffing the remote that controls the love-egg deep in Cia’s cunt into his pocket.
I don’t know when he took it from Gus, but I’m glad he did. I’m not sure I would be able to resist pulling it from her cousin’s hand if he had it.
It’s the fourth day of the Tournament, and now it’s time for the third and final event of the triathlon that’s going to determine the two new Hatt Heirs.
The first trial was archery. All the Protégés started at thirty yards, and each round the distance was increased by five yards. If you missed even once, you were out. This continued until there were only two archers left, Mordred and Nimueh, who definitely put William Tell to shame.
The second trial was the melee, which was much like the fight we witnessed in the Colosseum, albeit less bloody. Well, blood flowed, so maybe I should say there were fewer fatalities… a lot less. It was fucking boring to watch. Where the Russos gave it their all, the Hatts were dancing around each other with fancy footwork and blunt weapons. What a fucking waste of a sunny day, which is supposedly rare in this part of England. The only good thing about it was Tristan and Isolde. The precision, savageness, and drive in their aggressive style was unparalleled.
On Arthur’s insistence, yesterday all the Protégés had a resting day. When we all hung out and he showed us around, he explained that it’s something he’s introduced. He even made a few light-hearted jokes about his dad having a heart attack if he knew.
“There’s no glory or fairness in wearing them so far down that skill is forgotten, and only stamina matters,”Arthur said when I asked him why he insisted on the rest day.“I know the Drákon training doesn’t allow for mercy, but isn’t your status at Acacia’s side proof that it’s something one should never forget?”
I chuckled at Arthur’s words, not realizing the impact until agápi spoke up.“And how come, pray tell, you know so much about the secrets of my family?”she asked.
“Come now, Acacia, don’t act so surprised. I thought you had already figured out that information was being leaked.”When Cia dropped her cutlery to the plate with a loud clunk, surprise written all over her beautiful face, Arthur carried on.“Your aunt is a Hatt, that’s common knowledge. But did you know she had almost weekly meetings with my dad? No, your face tells me you didn’t know.”
After a lengthy silence, Gwenda cleared her throat and tangled her fingers with Arthur’s.“Please excuse my fiancé. He means well, but choosing the right time to speak isn’t within his skill set.”We all watched with bated breath as she took a sip of wine, wetting her throat.“What Arthur is so clumsily trying to say, well ask, is that you stay after the Tournament. Just a day or two for we have much to discuss.”
In the end, Cia agreed to the request even though it means we’ll be alone with the entire Hatt clan. Wise? Maybe not, but I can’t fault the decision. Besides, I have questions of my own I want to ask about my mom.There’s an earnest quality to the new Hatt Leader that has me believing everything he’s saying. I don’t know exactly what it is, but something about Arthur makes him appear as though he’s above dishonesty.
“I’m going to miss being driven around in a horse-drawn carriage,” Cia sighs wistfully, pulling me from my thoughts. She’s looking down at the cobblestones that she has a love-hate relationship with because of her thin stiletto heels. “It really makes you feel you’ve traveled back in time, doesn’t it?”
Gus and I nod our heads simultaneously. I don’t share her enthusiasm or love for our scenery, but I love watching her reactions.
As soon as we arrive at the list field, which is the roped-off enclosure where the jousting will take place, we’re welcomed by Arthur’s fiancée, Gwenda, and his twin, Morgana. “Drákons, welcome.” They beam at us, and as soon as we’re out of the carriage, Morgana links her arm with Cia’s.
“Gwenda. Morgana.” I nod at them in greeting, though there’s no point. The women are already deep in conversation about… I don’t fucking know.
They’re pointing at different parts of the other’s outfit and complimenting it, which is so unlike my agápi. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing that she’s indulging in stuff like this, but it’s odd to watch. I mean, she’s a killer for fuck’s sake, and here she is, gushing over Gwenda’s corn-blue dress and matching shoes—sorry, pumps. Apparently, they’re called pumps.
I look at Gus who’s running his hand through the beard he’s still sporting. “Don’t,” he says, holding his hand up. Lowering his voice, he whispers, “Let her behave like a girl whose biggest concern is what to wear for the celebration tomorrow night.”
With a frown on my face, I consider his words. I hate that he’s right, so a part of me wants to argue with him just for the hell of it. But even if he was wrong, this is hardly the time and place to discuss it.
“Whatever,” I mumble, clutching my spear as we walk behind the women.
Gwenda takes us straight to the spectator area that’s reserved for the Kronos Society. Kai, Arthur, Lupa, and Remus are already here, sitting in the same order we’ve been since day one.
Kai and Arthur are in the middle. Morgana is seated next to Kai, then it’s Gus, Cia, and me at the end. On the other side of Arthur, we have Gwenda, Remus, and Lupa.
As we take our seats I mumble my hello to everyone, we all do. Well, except for Cia and Lupa, who openly hug. Yeah, that’s some real sisterhood shit they’ve got going on there, and even though I think it’s kinda wrong to display it, I’m happy for my agápi.
She’s never talked much about her lack of friends, but I know it’s something she’s missed. So I hope what she’s found in the Hatt Protégé and the Russo Heiress is real. I know I shouldn’t question it, not after Morgana and Lupa selflessly stood by Cia when she married Kai.
Looking along the row we’re all sitting on, realization strikes me. Honestly, I’m feeling rather stupid that I’m only thinking about it now.
Traditionally, the Leaders, even Morgana as the acting Drákon Leader, should wear masks. I’m not sure why they aren’t, but so far Kai is the only one entertaining that ridiculous custom. The white mask might hide his face, but it also makes him stand out even more. It’s shining like a beacon in the night, daring you to not look at him. It makes sense, of course. But it’s utterly ridiculous at the same time, and I wish he would just take it off.
My inner musings are interrupted when Arthur stands up. “Hear ye, hear ye,” his herald calls out, gaining everyone’s attention.
