Chapter Twenty One
"Let me fight, the dispute started with me!"
Kairen's voice was raised with frustration, a hand running through his unruly mass of dark waves. Antoni glanced at him with vague annoyance, his amber eyes glinting. "As l've said the last ten times, Prince," his voice growing cold, "The challenge has already been cast, there is no changing it."
I shifted from foot to foot as Roan wrapped the white linen securely around my knuckles and down my wrist, a padding for the skin and bones beneath.
His lips were set into a thin line as he copied the action on the other side.
He'd snatched the wrappings from Malika's hands with a snarl that he'd do it himself, fury lacing every taut line of his face.
When he finished I flexed my hands experimentally making sure the linen was secure and tight, but gave enough flex to fight properly.
Roan stepped closer, a dark look cast towards the man whose own wrappings were nearly finished. His anger was palpable, but he hadn't attempted to dissuade me from the challenge. Hadn't offered to fight in my place as Kairen was, and I wondered if he knew how much that meant to me.
"You can win this." He was confident, despite the anger that underlined his words. A fierceness etched so deeply within him that it almost brought a smile to my face.
I nodded, shaking out my hands. “I know.”
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes distant, and I could practically see the thoughts whirling through his mind. “Use your speed to your advantage, he's large, but you're quick."
"I know Roan—”
“His right knee is bad, he favors it by trying to keep his weight off it, use that. Also his—"
"Sight is impaired in his right eye," I cut him off, exasperated. Reaching out, I squeezed his arm. "I know, l've been stuck aboard a ship filled with hostility for a week now. You think I haven't been studying their weaknesses?"
His fierce demeanor cracked at that, a smile slipping through as he nodded, a reassurance more to himself than me. "Okay then, go show them the feral side of you, potion maker."
Stepping back, I winked despite the energy that hummed beneath my skin, practically vibrating with the need to win this. To prove that I was more than what this crew thought of me.
Merle had always said my need to fight would lead me into trouble I couldn't get out of one day, but I couldn't help it.
Couldn't deny the excitement that left a thrill racing through me when Taven turned to face me.
Perhaps he saw that eagerness lurking, the vicious delight that burrowed deep in the marrow of my being because his gaze narrowed.
Tossing a bland look towards Antoni, I stated, "If I win this, you'll allow the Prince to look at those maps he wished to see."
The Luanthian raised a brow, pointing a ringed finger towards Taven with a cruel smirk curving his mouth. “And if he wins, you'll be taking the eternal sleep at the bottom of the sea."
My eyes closed for merely a moment, my shoulders rolling, loosening.
One. A breath.
Two. Another.
Three. Quick and light upon my feet.
Four. The shadows called from deep within.
Pick the flesh from his bones.
To suffer the indignity of believing you are beneath him.
Claw his eyes from his skull—
When my eyes opened, they quieted, though I could still feel their indignant roiling.
"Begin."
Antoni's call was loud, forceful, and Taven didn't waste a second before his lumbering form was rushing forward, large hands swinging for my head.
I was quick to duck, to spin from his reach, a smile gracing my lips at the growl he loosed as he spun back to face me once more.
My mind was a blank sheet as I ducked and dodged each swing. My calculating gaze took in his form, the way a swing from the right hand was hesitant when his weight shifted to that weakened knee. I might not be a match for him physically, but I could tire him out, wait for an opportunity.
My arms came up just in time to block a blow to the side of my head. The force of it sent me careening, my steps faltering and a gasp escaped my lips as his hand gripped my braid, yanking me back towards him.
Prick. Playing dirty it is then.
Unshed tears gathered in my eyes at the stinging of my scalp as I reached back, nails digging deep into his forearm and clawing down.
With a roar his grip loosened, my fingers sticky and hot with blood.
A distraction was all I needed. My elbow slammed back into his gut, his body hitching forward with a wheeze.
My hair ripped free from his hold as I spun, hands latching to his shoulders as my knee came up, and a solid crunch echoed through the air as it connected with his nose.
He stumbled back, hulking frame dazed and disoriented.
My breaths were ragged and my lungs burned as I shook out my hands.
Adrenaline sparked every nerve ending as he straightened, a hand reaching to wipe the blood that poured down his face—a river of satisfying red.
His stance shifted, now seeing he was no longer just facing down a girl with a wicked temper.
Now he knew the warrior that laid in wait, his lip curling as he appraised me.
“I’m goin’ to enjoy snappin’ ya in half.”
I brought my hands up once more and tilted my head. “You’re going to have to catch me for that, sailor.”
He was charging again, my attention honing in on the tensing of his shoulder, the weight of his swing as he brought it down.
I was wind and air and light as could be, my body weaving through time and space as I twirled just out of reach of every thunderous strike.
Curse after curse fell from his lips as I danced to the rhythm of the ocean beneath my feet.
Until I wasn't.
Until my feet snagged upon something—but the deck had been clear only moments before. My confusion led to panic as the air rushed from my body, my wrists stinging from the attempt to catch my fall. I was rolling, trying to get back to my feet.
Too slow.
I was too slow.
I felt the heat of his breath half a second before his hand was gripping the collar of my tunic, stretching the material far too taut as it lifted my body from the wood beneath.
The blow left me reeling, my mind a flash of hazy white as I went limp with it. The pain came seconds later, so blinding I swore my jaw had broken. My fingers clawed fruitlessly at the hand that gripped me, my ears ringing.
Was that shouting? Was it Bran? Goddess, everything ached.
My body was being pulled upright before a heavy kick to my chest had my breath catching as I slammed into the siding of the boat, a wheeze strangling out of my parted lips.
Move. Move. Move.
The shadows came to life beneath my skin and I rolled blindly, the shuddering wood taking the hit I had just barely avoided.
I scrambled back, hands and feet sliding my butt across the sleek floor.
My eyes readjusted just as Taven approached once more, and I knew from the murderous flash in his glare that I was dead if he got his hands on me again.
Perhaps he’d truly snap my neck and toss me out into the dark depths of the waiting sea.
I could see commotion behind him, Bran's face flushed with rage as he thrust himself into Kidd's face, Kairen just behind him, but it was Roan who caught my eyes. His stare bored into me, swirling with a thousand emotions.
Anger, fear, desperation, encouragement.
Get up, those eyes seemed to scream. It’s not over yet, they sang.
I scrambled back another inch, stumbling to shaky legs, the wrapping on my right hand was loose and fluttering in the gentle breeze as I faced Taven.
His smile was cruel and this time when he reached for me, I didn’t dodge, but allowed him to take hold of me.
Confusion had him hesitating, but that second was all I needed.
Twisting, I pulled him with me, the movement too quick for him to counter.
My ribs screamed as I hooked a leg around his weakened one, using the momentum of the movement to swing myself upon his back, my grip on his shoulders steadying me as he roared.
My lungs burned, fire in every breath as he stumbled, that knee giving out beneath him.
Teeth gritting against the ache of my bones and the exhaustion that made my limbs leaden, I clung to him, my arms wrapping around his neck as he struggled to get back to his feet.
His large form flung to and fro trying with all his might to dislodge me.
I yanked at that loose binding on my wrist, feeling the fabric come free, gripping it tightly in my hands I leaned back, pressing it into his neck.
His thrashing doubled as he attempted to pry it from around his throat, his fingers clawing, but I merely pulled tighter. My legs locked around his waist, all my weight leaning back as that fabric held me.
Arms shaking, a scream clawed its way from my ravaged throat, a primal thing that vibrated through my very being.
My grip didn't loosen as he sank to his knees, his hands growing weak and shaky with their efforts.
It didn't loosen as he fell forward, the side of his face connecting with the wooden flooring as I sat upon his back, my breaths ragged.
It wasn't until I felt him go completely limp beneath me that I allowed the fabric to fall from my hands, allowing myself to stumble from his prone form, my body swaying with the rocking of the ship.
For I felt like the sea, weightless and heavy all at once, a vast expanse of pulling tides and pushing undercurrents as my vision swam and my head pounded.
And then the world went dark.
I woke to the darkness, my body swaying and nausea rolling through me as I sat up. My hands ran over the netted material beneath me, realizing it was one of the hammocks below deck.
Everything hurt, but I supposed it was a small mercy they hadn’t simply thrown me overboard.
I stumbled from it, eyes aching even in the darkness, as I felt a path to the stairway that would lead me to the deck of the ship.
When I emerged I felt every set of eyes fall upon me.
I hesitated a moment as Taven stood, my friends tensing with the movement.
Chin lifting—I knew my face had to have been as bruised as his—we eyed one another.
His neck had a line of deep mottled purple that encircled his throat.
His nose was crooked and swollen, his eyes surrounded by deep bruising.
How bad must I look then? He couldn't possibly want to fight again, could he?
Was his ego so wounded he'd challenge me once more? Even I knew my limits, knew that my body couldn’t take another fight.
Yet when he approached he merely stared for a long moment, a look of resignation falling over his face before he thrust the tankard he held in his hand towards me. My muscles screamed as he clapped a hand heartily upon my back.
"Join us fer drinks, Syra." He spoke my name with a hint of annoyance, but I could hear the underlying newfound respect. I nodded once, moving to follow after him, bringing the tankard up for a hearty gulp. "Kidd has somethin' he'd like to say to ya.”
I slumped into a seat beside Roan on the floor of the deck, my brow furrowing as I brought my attention to the grizzled man sitting opposite me. Kidd rubbed a rough palm against the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry for interfering in the fight," The admission had my confusion growing, was my head hit too hard? Suddenly nothing was making any sense.
Bran let out a low growl. “The bastard's earth-blessed. He manipulated the wood and tripped you in the middle of the fight, which gave Taven the opportunity to land that punch."
Carefully I touched the tender side of my face.
"I wouldn' hav’ continued if l'd known," Taven stated with a glare towards his crewmate as he took a swig from his own tankard. “Yet ye still bested me in the end, and Kidd will hav’ his punishment. Let's move past it, aye?"
I was silent for a moment before I downed the rest of the tankard, holding it out to him. “Pour me another and I'll consider it forgotten."
Roan's soft laugh floated over me as Taven grabbed the tankard and moved to the cask they had opened while I’d been unconscious.
"Your Prince will have full access to the maps tomorrow," Antoni’s amber eyes found mine as he spoke. "It's not often I'm proven wrong, but I must say it's a pleasant surprise."
My shoulder lifted, finger tracing the rim of the tankard now clutched in my hands. “Perhaps Captain Delmar wasn't entirely wrong when he spoke of my stubbornness."
"Perhaps not."
Everyone settled into comfortable conversation after that, a new air of ease surrounding the group. I leaned back on my palms as I listened to Kairen animatedly ask the group questions about life at sea, now that they would deign to respond to him.
My head tilted back to take in the stars far overhead as they shone, twinkling with their own mirth and I craned my sore neck from side to side.
I felt Roan lean in close. “Do you want me to wake Rena? She could heal you."
Patting his leg, I shook my head. “Let her sleep, she'll only be ill if she wakes. She can heal me when we get back on land and she has her strength once more."
His eyes roamed over what I was sure was some nasty bruising on my face. “Aren't you in pain?"
A mischievous, but small smile lifted the corners of my lips. “A little pain never killed anyone."
“A glutton for pain, little menace? I'm shocked."
His deadpan expression suggested he was anything but shocked, and I couldn't fight the laugh that bubbled up, even as pain sharp as a blade cut through my ribs.
"Soli's wrath, do you two need to get a room?" Bran's curse had my cheeks warming as I shot him a glare, but when my eyes met his I frowned. His posture was playful, his tone too, but I saw the warning in his stare. The fear that lingered there beneath the surface.
I was playing with fire befriending the Kinslayer.
And eventually I'd get burned.