Chapter 32 #3
“I don’t want you to do anything to my arse, thief. But if you can get past your fascination with it, I will teach you how to fight like a true lord.”
Drake barked a laugh. “You’re funny when you’re not being a brainwashed bastard, Cass, you know that?”
“Well even brainwashed bastards have their moments, I suppose,” I said, and Drake’s eyes sparked with something wholly void of hostility for once.
I’d grown used to his easy smiles and laid-back way of presenting himself now, discerning the darkness with in him a little more easily than I initially had.
If it was a mask, he wore it like a second skin.
But something told me it wasn’t; he was just both things.
The cocky, arrogant arsehole who found it all too easy to charm his way through life and the cutthroat thug ready and waiting with a blade to drive into the back of anyone who crossed him.
It may have been hard to marry the two sides of his opposing personality, but they were both as present and real as each other.
“Would you like me to make Cassius tell jokes every time he talks, Master?” Kyra asked. “I’m sure we can get him to agree if-”
“You will not get me to agree,” I cut in.
“Sure you will,” she countered. “Master can get you something nice to sweeten the deal. Like a horse girlfriend – or boyfriend?” She beamed.
“I don’t fuck horses,” I growled.
“Then why did Master tell me you did?” she asked in confusion, like the idea of Drake lying to her hadn’t even occurred, and a growl built in my throat as Drake grinned widely.
“Yeah, Cass, why would I tell her that if it wasn’t the truth?” he asked innocently, cocking his head to one side.
“Because you’re a liar as well as a thief,” I tossed back.
“I’d never lie about someone’s sexual preferences, mate.
” He held a hand to his heart in mock offence.
“You can fuck all the horses you like; I won’t judge – just so long as the horse is willing.
I ain’t gonna see no pretty little mare forced to endure your advances against her will under my watch. ”
“This game is tiresome,” I warned as Drake nearly choked on his own laugh. “You need to prepare for tomorrow.”
“Go on then. Show me how to be a pompous prick. Though you’re doing a stand-up job of it already right this second, I have to admit,” Drake goaded me, but I didn’t swallow the bait this time.
Kyra moved to sit on the cushions, crossing her legs and hooking her navy dress up around her thighs once more before picking up the blade and watching us keenly.
“Each fight will start with a bow.” I pulled my tunic off, glad of the breeze flowing through the window as I dropped it to the floor. “Like this.” I placed one hand behind my back and dipped forward.
Drake mimicked me, an irritating look on his face the whole time like this whole thing was one big joke to him. But he imitated me perfectly, so I had no reason to call him out just yet.
“Then take a fighting stance.” I placed my feet, my right forward and my left behind before lifting my fists.
Drake copied me, though the look in his eyes said he thought this was ridiculous.
“Straight back, chin high. Look your opponent in the eye,” I said. “It's a sign of respect.”
“Right.” He did as I commanded, and I was glad he picked up my instructions fast.
“No biting, no scratching and for the love of all Osaria, do not kick him in the balls. It will lose you valuable points.”
Drake frowned in disappointment. “What’s a brawl without a little ball kicking?”
“Because it is dishonourable. There'll be an audience judging you as the potential future of their empire. The princess will be watching and gauging your suitability too. This is a chance to show her your skill, your ability to protect her as her husband.” My chest tightened at the mere idea of this thief claiming her, but he wouldn't win. Not against Kahn at least. And from what I’d seen of Kalaviv, it didn’t look likely that he’d beat him either.
“Most importantly, the judges will be watching your every move. You will be scored on skill, the kind of skill taught to high born Fae, so it is very important you get this right. Especially if you are to lose-”
“I won’t lose,” he scoffed.
“Well, I just saw Lord Kalaviv training out in the grounds,” I revealed and Drake’s brows lifted.
“And?”
“And he is a fierce opponent. Highly proficient with the strength of a soldier.”
“Oh no,” Kyra said in concern. “Shall I give you bigger muscles, Master?”
“My muscles are plenty big,” Drake insisted, looking insulted by the suggestion that he might need help with this. “I’ve beaten far meaner bastards than some poncy lord.”
Frustration flashed through me. “Not by fighting with honour, you haven't, thief.”
“What do you even care if I win? You don’t want me to win the princess and I’m here for the duration of the pageant regardless, aren’t I?”
“No, Drake. You are not. Did you not even read the scroll explaining the rules of this tournament?” I pointed to the thing which had been left here for him on the oak writing desk by the farthest window.
“No,” Drake grunted, and I sighed my everlasting aggravation with him.
“ Well ,” I said through clenched teeth, working to keep my rage in check.
“At varying stages of the pageant, the lowest scoring contestants will be removed permanently, but they are yet to reveal how long it will be before that happens. It could be after the first round for all we know. The traditions of the pageant vary throughout generations, and changes are made regularly so that suitors cannot prepare too well for the event and secure themselves undue advantage in the competition. Which means, Drake, we may have to leave the damn palace tomorrow if you do not gain enough points.”
“Maybe you should do it, Master. It is quite nice here. I hope we can stay for a while.” Kyra gazed around the room in wonder like she was seeing it for the first time all over again, and Drake’s attention hooked on her for a few seconds.
His brow creased and I could see he was finally taking me seriously when he turned his attention my way again. “Alright then. Show me how to win with ‘honour’ -” he air-quoted the word “-instead of wasting air.”
I blew out a huff of annoyance, knowing I had to keep my head right now. He may have been infuriating and all kinds of arrogant, but I supposed he had paid attention and executed everything I suggested skilfully so far. It was his smart mouth which was making this entire process so infuriating.
I ignored his presumptuous chatter and focused on what he needed to learn.
All I could do was teach him as best as I could and hope it would be enough to buy us plenty of time in the palace.
Every moment we remained here was valuable beyond words, buying me the time I needed to discover the truth of Magdor’s sins, and I planned on making certain he did well enough to ensure our ongoing participation in this sham of a pageant for as long as I could.
From what I'd seen of his fighting skills back at The Den, I reckoned he had a chance at winning so long as he did exactly as I said. The problem was, Drake was a wild card. Unpredictable and a clear fucking menace when he wanted to be. He did have one quality that should keep his mind on track, however, and that was his desire for power and riches. He would play the part well if it meant it brought him closer to those things. Things that I would allow him to believe were within his grasp, but if I had to drive a sword into his chest myself to ensure that he didn’t get his greedy hands on Princess Austyn in the end, then I wouldn’t hesitate.
“Come on then.” I beckoned him into a brawl, and he came at me like a rabid dog who’d been starved for a week.
He swung his fists wildly, landing two heavy punches before I rammed my own knuckles into his stomach. He wheezed, stumbling back before darting forward once more, his muscles firming, and teeth bared.
“Don't bruise my face,” he snapped as I narrowly avoided his chin. “I want to look my best tomorrow.”
“You could use Kyra to fix your face,” I pointed out and his gaze darkened.
“I don’t want you to hit my fucking face,” he insisted, and I had to fight a scoff at his damn vanity. “The princess is going to fall in love with this face – it’s our best weapon in this game we’re playing.”
“It makes no difference if she likes the way you look or not,” I growled, throwing my shoulder into his and knocking him back a few steps which he followed up by aiming a fist straight at my fucking nose. Damn hypocrite.
I landed a punch to his side and a sweet satisfaction filled me at taking out a little of my frustration on him. Knowing that he wanted Austyn made me angry in a way I'd not known before. I refused to admit it was jealousy, but the searing discomfort in my chest told me otherwise.
We battled on, trying to knock each other to the ground with the ferocity of unchained heathens.
He curled a leg around the backs of mine and I struggled to stay on my feet, locking my arm around his neck before we crashed to the floor. Kyra released a whoop of excitement, enjoying every second of the show.
Drake started choking me and I shook my head. “This will lose you points,” I rasped, and he released me.
I shoved him off of me and he rolled, slamming into the cushions and Kyra scooted backwards so that he didn't touch her.
“Wow, you're really bad at this,” Kyra said to him. “Or are you good?”
“I'm better than good, little goddess, I’m the fucking best.” He sprang upright, charging me down with a cry of rage.
“Don't let your anger get the better of you.” I side-stepped and knocked him to the floor with a forceful shove. “Keep your head in the match. Think out your moves before you execute them.”
He stood upright then leapt towards me, landing a hard kick to my chest. I hit the floor and coughed hard as he winded me. “Better,” I wheezed.