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“Hard to think of someone as weak when they can organize entire armies on the field, or repel invasions entirely, chubby or not.” And that, well, that was a good point.
Still, at some point in their history, the Thorzi had understood that some things were more important than being the biggest, most muscular alien on the block. They had to have it in them still, for Kaelum’s sake. He couldn’t rule a people who thought physical strength was the most important thing in the universe, and believed that he was weak.
As I watched, one of the big blue aliens from the first match yanked the other one’s arm hard in the wrong direction, until the sound of bone cracking filled the room. The alien with the now useless arm, hanging limp at their side looking like a quickly swelling blue noodle, didn’t even pause, throwing himself at his opponent and using his shattered appendage as a distraction.
How the hell was anyone ever going to convince the Thorzi that softness and weakness weren’t the same? Too bad they’d gotten me and not a guy with an unused communications degree. Or political science, maybe.
Me? I could tell them I knew the road they were headed down, because it resembled a whole lot of failed empires in human history in different ways. The Hapsburgs. The late Roman Empire. Sparta. I knew all about history repeating, but to them, I was just another soft, weak human, both boon to and imminent destruction of their people.
CHAPTER16
KAELUM
In the middle of the ring, I roared. My bare foot dug into the flesh of a true-born Thorzi warrior, flat on his stomach on the floor beneath me. He grunted when I found softness between his shoulder blades and shifted my weight onto him.
With a sharp grin, I leaned down. “Do you yield, Krazor?”
His palm smacked the floor. He growled, but between his clenched teeth I heard it in clear Thorzi—“I yield.”
I threw my arms above my head, even as I stepped from Krazor’s back. My bellow was echoed back at me from warriors around the room, but loudest from the throats of hybrids.
When I stepped to the edge of the ring, Jax crashed into me. His arm wrapped around my neck and he ruffled my hair. “That is how weconquer!”
He was shouting right above my ear, but victory buzzed through my veins and I did not care. While the combatants for the next bout took the center of the ring, I scanned the dais. My father caught my eye, his own large and luminous and blue. There, I saw the hint of a smile on his lips. He gave me the smallest nod.
I was not as weak as he feared.
Below him, Mother was beaming, sitting forward in her seat, still clapping with those celebrating my victory.
But there, beside her, Lucas sat with a strange frown on his face. He was looking at me, his small mouth pursed with worry.
For me? I did not understand. I had proven my strength against two true-born Thorzi warriors so far. Krazor was nearly as large as my father himself.
Lucas did not seem pleased by my victory. Perhaps it was still his worry that if I won, he would be father to my child.
If the thought was so vile to him, I would... I would not require it.
Jax growled, pulling my hand over my head, drawing my attention away from Lucas and back to the jostling celebration between warriors that lasted until the next combatants began.
We had promised each other, the day before, that a hybrid warrior would win this tournament. It would finally be our turn to prove that we were more than a compromise or a weakness. We were Thorzi warriors, every bit as strong as our blue-skinned siblings. We had much to give our people.
Jax won his next fight, and it was no surprise. He had been my protector, my dearest friend and most loyal ally, since we were children. His father, Zul the Proeliator, had been the previous warmaster of our people. Jax was enormous, for a hybrid, and brutal, but Zul’s line had not been honored for their strength but for their cleverness.
The first mark Lyr had gifted Jax was his father’s power—a tactician’s mind, and a keen understanding of warriors, both enemies and allies.
It made him nearly invincible in one-on-one combat.
Made him a formidable lover, as well.
Though many hybrid warriors were knocked out of the competition early, we clung on until Murphy, Jax’s human father, stepped forward on the second dais and lifted the tablet. As last warmaster’s mate, it was his honor to name the combatants of the third round of matches.
The fourth? There would be no oversight. The handful of warriors left standing would all enter the ring. They would battle until only one remained.
But to get there, I had to defeat my last opponent.
Murphy cleared his throat, and each Thorzi warrior fell silent. Human throats did not shout as loud, but Murphy spoke clearly so all heard him.
“Prince Kaelum,” he announced, warm fondness lighting his eyes when he looked my way. Jax’s father was kind, gentle beyond any other human I had met. Still, he had been Zul’s second mate. He did not flinch from battle.
