by Auryn Hadley
"What?"
Her finger stabbed at his chest. "Think about the last man who won his freedom and what he's doing now. Fifty fights. Merino can risk about thirty, then he needs to make sure you die. If you dare get that rudis, you'll become his competition. You'll cut into his profits. He wants to send me up against the easy ones first so I get brave. When I have a few solo victories, then he'll make the fights harder, assuring me I can handle it."
"You can."
"No, I can't. Not yet. Eventually, I'll face someone I just can't beat back. My corpse will be hauled off for compost, but what happens to you? You still have to fight tandem." She poked his chest. "You – who doesn't play well with others – will be chained to someone that doesn't know how to dance. He'll make a mistake and you'll pay for it. In the end, only one person wins."
"Merino," Tristan whispered.
She nodded, then gestured to the men around them. "Same thing with all of us. We're just an investment. He babies us until he breaks even, then starts taking the risks. He doesn't want us to win our freedom. He wants us to capture the attention of the masses, win their hearts while making him into a celebrity, then die valiantly in sight of the finish line."
Tristan caught the sides of her face. "How do we win, Leyli? How the fuck do we survive this trap?"
She looked into his hazel eyes and took a breath. "We learn to play this game better than him. We predict what he's going to do, and we prepare for it. We never give him the chance to send us to slaughter without risking his profits. It's just like those fights in the arena." She licked her lips and glanced beside them. "Most of all, we never let them know when we're good enough."
He nodded, letting her go. "Your father must be a very wise man, to have raised a daughter like you."
"Yeah," she told him. "He is."
Chapter 13
Their first fight came all too soon. Hauled to the games in a wagon, just like before, Tristan and Leyli shared everything. That included their cell when they arrived. Waiting for their turn in the arena, he sat on the ground before her while she rubbed the tension from his shoulders. After fourteen days of being locked together, it felt wrong not to be beside him. The Lion's training had worked.
The armor over his arm was made of metal. Hers was only leather. His chest was bare. She wore a top that covered her breasts but left her abdomen exposed. Both of them were dressed in studded leather strips that made protective skirts. His was brown, hers nearly black. Their leg guards matched, but where his bracers were ornate, hers were plain. Where his hair lay loose against his neck, hers was braided away from her face. They were opposites in all things, and Merino planned to make sure the crowd could see it.
"We fight late," Tristan said softly, aware that his voice would echo in the halls.
She moved her hands to his neck. "Sunset?"
"Yeah. It plays tricks with your eyes. You scared, pup?"
She leaned over and draped her arms across his shoulders. "Nervous. Not scared, yet. At least I have the best partner."
He grabbed her forearm. "Me, too. Two hundred and one."
"Six." She giggled. "That's almost embarrassing to admit."
"Yeah, but you sound like a gladiator. After we win, Merino will sell me off again." His hand slid across her bracer as if he was soothing her. "Least with us kept together, she won't come wake me up in the middle of the night."
"And I'll be here when you get back."
His hand paused. "Thanks, Wolf."
"You're welcome, Lion."
They spoke of foolish things until the sun started to slant through the gates to the sands. Then they both began to stretch, preparing their muscles for what came next. Gone were the ideas of being proper. They shared a cell with a single chamber pot. Leyli's pride was long gone, but her trust was stronger for it. Tristan checked her armor, his hands too close to places that once were reserved for her husband. She returned the favor, sliding her fingers across his muscles without flinching.
When the guards came for them, they fell into their places without a word. Leyli fit just before him, tucked into his left side. Tristan walked with steps a bit shorter than he used to so she wasn't forced to jog. They didn't need to talk. Both of them knew what came next. They also knew they would either live or die because of their partner.
"What's the game?" Tristan asked as they collected their weapons.
"King of the hill," the guard said.
He groaned, making Leyli smile. It was a crowd favorite, keeping the fight in the middle of the arena. The gladiators hated it, because the footing was treacherous and retrieving a weapon was that much harder. But they'd practiced this. Her smaller size made it easier to block the people below them. So long as they could claim the hill, they would be fine.
"These are veterans, Ley."
She nodded. "So are you. We're as ready as we're going to get."
He nodded, and they headed toward the gate. Just before the portcullis lifted, he turned to her, stepping inside the shield. For one long moment, he hugged her close, before releasing her without a word.
"Scared?" she asked.
Tristan nodded. "Terrified."
"Me, too." She glanced up.
He almost smiled. "Then use it, Wolf. And for this fight, I'm going to need a shield."
"Understood."
Before the gate was all the way up, they stepped out. Leyli took in the arena, looking for advantages. She didn't need to watch Tristan to know what he was doing. Even the sway of the chain spoke volumes.
The sun was beside them, making shadows run over everything. Around the edge, teams lined up. There were six of them, which meant they had to kill ten men. Unlike the first time she'd played this game, these pairs were well trained. Cutting off a partner's arm was only used as a last resort. At least that was one thing she didn't need to worry about. She'd proven her worth already.
"What's the plan?" she asked, looking proudly up at the crowd.
Tristan glared at the men across from them. "Think you can fight uphill?"
"I can do anything I need to."
"Then let them race for the top, we'll take it from them once we're armed."
While they waited, the announcer called out the names. Each gladiator was known by a stage name and their home province. No one cared about who they really were, they just wanted a reason to cheer. When he announced the Lion of Lenlochlien and the Wolf of Oberhame, the pair raised their arms and welcomed the crowd's love. The cheers were nearly deafening. Evidently they were the favorite.
Then the gong sounded.
Tristan did nothing. While everyone else rushed forward, he stood with his sword hanging at his side. Leyli just waited. As soon as the first weapons clashed, they both surged toward the fray.
At the last second, she ducked before him, her shield up. Tristan hacked at the man's back. His partner turned, but Leyli blocked him. Tristan made another cut, and the scream proved he'd hit. Again and again she blocked, her blood pounding through her veins. Around them, teams called out directions, trying to coordinate, but she didn't care. She knew Tristan. She could predict him. She could feel his next move as if it were her own.
A shieldman dropped before her, and Leyli stepped over him. Tristan finished him while she covered the wild attacks from his partner. When the Lion stood, he already had the shield on his arm. Now it was time to get her a sword.
They pushed his partner. She shoved at his side, but the gladiator wasn't a fool. When Tristan swung at his neck, the man dodged, but she was ready. The rim of her shield hit his temple hard and he dropped. Her eyes scanned for the next threat as she knelt, taking the weapon before Tristan made the killing blow. One team down, but they were finally ready to finish this.
She spun, moving to his back. Shields raised, they slowly made their way forward, up the narrow ramp. Using his larger mass, Tristan pushed higher. Using her shorter size, Leyli held off the men coming behind them. When they reached the top, she knew it and locked in place.
&nbs
p; The fight became a repetition of crashing metal and wild swings. She ducked, they reacted. She took a chance, they blocked it. Side by side, she held off two men, letting them wear themselves out. The hill was hers. The victory would be hers as well. All she had to do was keep fighting until everyone else stopped.
The Lion lunged, cleaving a man before him, and she shifted to cover his back. Her own opponents thought it was a chance and rushed in. This time, she moved forward, knowing he'd be there for her. When her sword bit into flesh, she felt him, his hips pressing into the small of her back. On the back stroke, she caught the second man's arm, winging him enough to make him vulnerable. The gladiator behind him finished him off.
That left only one team, and they were pushing Leyli hard. Tristan moved to her side. Locked together, they picked a target, trading blows while covering the other's attack. Then she saw the opening. Reaching out, Leyli cleaved the man's arm, the bone snapping under the force of her blow, but pain seared her side.
She screamed, hacking at the cause. It hurt! Her ribs burned and her arm was growing numb, but she couldn't quit. Not now. She was so close to winning one more chance – if she could just hold on.
Tristan knew it. He pivoted, taking the lead, and she moved to his other side. The wounded man was still going, but blinded by the damage to his arm. His only thought was to keep his shield up, but that left his legs exposed. She hacked at the closest. As soon as he dropped, Leyli shoved the point of her sword through his back, into his heart, but she had nothing left.
Her knees buckled just as Tristan killed the last man. "I'm hit," she gasped.
"Fuck," he hissed, grabbing her arm to support her. "How bad?"
He hauled her to her feet, and Leyli let him. When he moved her arm to look at the gash, his brow creased. She just took a deep breath and stood straighter. They still had to make it off the sands. They'd won, but she'd pay for it.
"Will I live?" she asked, not sure of the answer.
"Yeah." He sounded relieved. "Don't fucking do that again."
She tried to laugh, but couldn't. It hurt too bad. "Tristan," she whispered, not sure if he could hear her over the roar of the crowd.
He did. "I got ya, pup."
Pulling off her shield, he dumped it on the hill, then lifted her. Not caring about the reaction of the crowd, her partner carried her across the sands, the chain dangling against his leg. Leyli gave in and dropped her head onto his shoulder. He didn't stop inside the gate, but kept going, forcing the guards to keep up.
"I need a needle, silk thread if you can get it, and alcohol," he told the closest man. "Tell Merino to put it on my bill."
"Needle's the hard part," the man said. "We'll get you the rest, Lion. No need to tell your boss. Pretty sure someone can find a needle."
"I owe you." He stepped into the cell to lay her on the cheap bed. "Have to keep her in one piece."
"How bad is it?" she asked, trying to sit up.
One hand held her down. "Bad enough. Just stay there a minute."
She groaned but obeyed. It hurt too bad to do anything else. When she tried to look, the armor got in her way, and bending more made the wound scream. Tristan pushed at her chest, forcing her to lay back while he arranged the supplies and had someone remove the manacles that held them together. Only when they were alone did he squat down at her side.
His hands worked free the buckles of her armor. "He got a good hit. The edge of the shield kept it from being a killing blow. There's a gash from your back right across your breast, Ley. If the doctor sews it, you'll pay dearly, and I'll be out a partner for the next fight."
"Can't have that." She tried to smile, but wasn't quite sure if it was working.
He caught the edge of her face. "So, I'm going to fix it for you. This is the part about getting closer than you wanted. I need to get your shirt off, and then I'm going to get rather personal, but you'll be healed before we have another fight."
"I trust you, Tristan."
He let his hand slide to the back of her head. "I'm going to take care of you, pup. You and I, we're going to make it through this mess and live to be free."
"'Yes, we are."
Piece by piece he worked off everything she wore over her waist. Each movement was careful, overly sensitive of the wound, but Leyli could feel the bed growing wet beneath her. It had to be her own blood. When she lay with her breasts bare to the world, he moved the blanket to cover what he could. She didn't care. All she wanted was to make it stop hurting.
"Lion," a man hissed from the bars.
Tristan left for a moment, then returned with his hands full. "Don't move," he warned her, placing something beside her hip.
Then he peeled off his own armor, moving efficiently. For the first time, Leyli saw him remove both of his bracers in public. At the edge of her vision, she saw the mutilated skin. "Thought you didn't take those off." Her voice was feeble.
Tristan's eyes were locked on her wound. "Figured you'd be too distracted to care right now."
"I won't ever care," she promised. "I just know you don't want your enemies to see a possible weakness."
He lifted a mug and looked at her. "After this, you may decide you're an enemy. Don't bite your tongue, this hurts."
Then he poured it along the wound and fire seared through her nerves. Leyli's back arched away from the bed, trying to avoid the pain. When Tristan began to sew her skin together, it felt like nothing. Her body had reached its limit.
Chapter 14
She was unconscious when Tristan was pulled away to service his woman. The clank of the lock woke her as he returned. Leyli didn't bother sitting up. She also didn't say a thing, knowing how much he hated the trysts, but none of the men around them understood.
"Hey," he whispered, brushing a hand over her hair. "How are you doing?"
"Well," she tilted her head to look at him, "I feel like someone cut my ribs open with a sword, poured liquor on it, then stuck a needle in me over and over. Besides that, I'm great. How are you?"
He groaned, moving to the end of the bed before crawling up beside her. "My lover was old enough to be a grandmother. Her tits hung to her knees and her cunt was the size of a cavern. She kissed like a frog and I think she farted when she got off."
Leyli giggled, winced, then huffed instead. "Oww. No, that's not right."
"I know. I go from your nice perky things to that? Not fair." He lifted the blanket and moved beside her.
Leyli shifted her arm to make room. "I need a shirt."
"You really don't. Promise. The wound doesn't detract at all."
"I'd hit you if it wouldn't hurt so bad."
He laughed loud enough to make it echo. "I'm enjoying this while I can. For once in your life, you're at my mercy." He pushed his arm under her neck. "C'mere, pup."
She curled into his shoulder, then paused. "You stink."
"Yeah, we get baths before we leave. They think the blood on us makes us terrifying, but forget about the sweat."
"No." She poked his chest playfully. "Jasmine and something. Your slut's perfume. The rest of you smells pretty good."
With his arms behind her back, Tristan began working her braids out. "Ley, what are we doing?"
"Surviving."
"I'll never make it." His voice was a whisper. "No one does. It's just going to get harder, and you're too new. I don't want to get you killed."
"We'll be ok, Tristan. We have to be."
He chuckled, but it was sad and wistful. "Yeah." Slowly, he unbuckled his bracers again, tossing them over her body. A necklace clattered to the floor with it. "In my rooms, I have that statue. I keep my future inside it. If anything happens to me, get it before they can clear it out."
She looked up, finding his eyes watching her in the darkness. "I will, but you're going to be the second man to earn his freedom."
"And I'll save enough to buy yours. We'll make sure no one gets inside your guard again."
He opened his mouth to say something else, but she pressed
a finger to his lips. "I'm ok. You fixed me. Go to sleep, Tristan."
"Merino wants me to fight tomorrow."
She nodded. "It's one step closer. Can you do it."
"Yeah. The sooner I get out, the sooner we get you out. It's a reason to try, little Wolf. I gotta take care of my partner. It's what a best friend does." His arms tightened slightly. "There's not a single scar on your body. Wasn't, until today. You were supposed to be a good wife, not a shield brother."
"And you were supposed to be a blacksmith," she reminded him. "Fate has her own plans."
He sighed and rolled back, pulling her with him. "I used to daydream of putting shoes on some lady's horse and getting the chance to flirt with her. She'd be so impressed with the work, she'd hire me for her stables."
"More like your pretty face," Leyli teased. "Or maybe the shoulders. A lady wouldn't know if your horseshoes were any good."
"I bet you would have."
She shook her head emphatically. "Nope, but I would have said it, just to make sure my stable was well decorated."
"Oh?" He was grinning. "You had a stable of your own, huh?"
"Yeah." She sighed. He'd just gotten her to admit something else about her past, so she might as well tell him the truth. He'd assume it was an embellishment. "A big one. I had four stallions, just over twenty mares, and a whole string of riding geldings. One in every color, so they'd match my outfit. Then the parade horses. Had three of those. White for celebrations, black for mourning, and the bay for matching my brother."
He chuckled, convinced she was poking fun at him. "And how many blacksmiths?"
"Um, I think there were three. Four if you count the man who worked on weapons, but they were Dad's, not mine. They had nice arms."
"Is that all?"
"Nope. Tight clothes, too, so they wouldn't burn. Usually leather. Showed off their rumps. I did have really nice stable hands, though. Young and handsome."
His chest bounced as he chuckled. "And did you make them show off their rumps?"
"Oh yeah. Proper attire at all times, to keep up appearances. The breeches made their thighs look very attractive."