41. Rahzlyn
Rahzlyn
“You’re certain Maryn is allowing it?” Felaf asked the following morning on my jaunt to meet with a rotating group of tutors for another riveting day of studies. At least today’s agenda consisted of more dancing, even if in preparation for the baron’s ball I was dreading.
“You overheard from your chamber, didn’t you?” I said, steaming cup of coffee in hand. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if she changes her mind after our return.”
Our dinner conversation unsettled me, opening my eyes to the breadth of control she craved.
“If we stick to Baron Ionis Candor’s district, the only protected part of the city, I suppose we should be fine,” Felaf said warily. “When would you want to go?”
“As soon as possible.”
“It’s dangerous,” Felaf added. “May I ask what exactly you are hoping to accomplish there?”
I shrugged. “Back home, not many dared to speak about Scorpio for fear of ‘catching’ the curse. When they did, they spoke of stories about how vile and decrepit its people and lands were, filled with darkness and wicked souls. Since coming to the palace, all I know is that this place is beautiful and misunderstood, and perhaps so are its people. I want to see more of this queendom that everyone says is in ruins.”
“I respect that sentiment, Princess,” Felaf said warily. “But I’m afraid the city is not misunderstood, nor are our warnings exaggerated. We’ve garnered such a reputation for a reason. If the apostai—or anyone, for that matter—were to catch wind of your presence…”
“We’ll go undercover and blend in. We’ll make sure to wear enough layers to conceal our glyphs, avoiding even Baron Ionis.”
“And do what, exactly?”
My steps slowed. I looked down at the tips of my toes peeking from beneath my black pants, tapered at the ankles.
The advisors had convinced Maryn that I was in need of a fitted wardrobe after all.
It had partially arrived, consisting of dresses for all occasions, fitted skirts, loose pants, and intricate tops mostly in black.
I’d never been outfitted with so many jewels and custom-made clothes in my entire life.
Even the simplest pieces, like the off-shoulder cropped shirt I donned, were made of high-quality linen and fabrics.
I wanted to see where these came from, who made them, and how they lived.
“I need to understand the Scorpion people. A book isn’t going to teach me that,” I said, summarizing the noise in my head. “With you by my side, what could go wrong?”
“It is against protocol for you to venture beyond the palace without both guardians. We should wait for Raithe.”
Two of Maryn’s ladies giggled past us in a rush. They paid us no mind, scurrying in the opposite direction with their skirts hoisted for speed. I stared after them. “Where are they off to?”
“To watch Raithe fight in the training courtyard,” Felaf said. “Sounds like he’s putting on a show.”
“With who?”
“A few pretentious guards looking to get their asses kicked.”
Curiosity tickled me. “Oh? Well, I suppose the tutors can wait a little longer.”
Being back in the training courtyard unnerved me, especially as I sat in the same seat Maryn had when she’d ordered her punishments upon Raithe. Heavy, dissecting eyes observed me as I nursed my coffee. They were all still strangers to me, and most were content to keep their judgmental distance.
Several maids leaned over the railing off to my left, gushing at the sight below.
My eyes tracked Raithe immediately in the center of the sandpit, stretching his limbs.
His sculpted chest gleamed with sweat in the sunlight.
The scars on his abdomen were plain for all to see.
It seemed easier for him to display the marks on his body than the ones buried within.
A slim black headband pulled his curls from his chiseled face. Black tapered pants hung around his hips. My throat became painfully parched as I leaned forward for a better—
Hot liquid splashed onto my pants, burning my thighs.
I shrieked, leaping from the seat as my coffee cup clattered to the ground, shattering into bits and pieces.
If I didn’t have everyone’s attention before, I certainly did now.
Especially from the spectators below. Raithe’s dark head craned up in my direction.
Without his topaz ring, his hearing was normal.
It seemed he hadn’t known I was watching until now.
His broad shoulders straightened with awareness. Part of me wanted to hide from that pinning stare of his. Another much louder and more curious part couldn’t resist holding his gaze. His face, handsome as it was, remained strikingly devoid of any emotion.
The mask of the man I first met. I was a fool to think he reciprocated my attraction—my feelings.
Raithe’s brows drew together before turning to address the surrounding guards. “Who’s next?”
Felaf called over a servant to help with the mess I made. I froze when a familiar grating voice cut in below. “Me.”
Barto. He emerged from beneath the balcony and stripped his shirt. Where Raithe was leanly built with well-defined muscles, Barto was thick and bulky. At first glance it appeared he would have the upper hand based on size alone.
“No weapons,” Barto said, rolling his neck.
Raithe acknowledged the request.
“I hate when he does this,” Felaf grumbled. “We’re not supposed to remove our rings.”
My breath lodged in my throat as I admired Raithe’s cutting physique. “Makes sense Barto would want a fist fight. I imagine Raithe is partial to those blades he carries everywhere.”
Felaf nodded. “The Athenian blades are some of the oldest weapons known to exist. No one knows what exactly they’re made of, but they can tear through anything. I’d kill to hold them one day, but only the winner of the Elemental Tournament can possess them.”
Raithe and Barto circled each other, fists raised. I’d seen plenty of brawls at the Stinky Boot, but never a formalized one. I didn’t know what to expect other than a sure defeat at Raithe’s hand.
Barto attacked first. Raithe dodged it with ease.
Barto tried again, his savage punches unhinged.
Raithe deflected, refusing to engage unless it was on his own terms. Finally, Raithe jammed his fists into Barto’s lower back.
Barto growled and charged again. Raithe leapt away from his attacks.
His footwork reminded me of a dance, passionate and instinctive.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, tall and lithe with enough muscle to make him dangerous.
Even without his talisman, Raithe was formidable.
“What a shame he’s a Chosen.” One of the maids sighed dreamily along the railing. “Look at that body.”
“I wonder what it’s like to bed a Chosen,” another gushed. “Especially guardians. I’ve heard they feel pleasure more intensely.”
“Imagine how well they give it.”
“Not Raithe,” the third maid complained. “He’s heartless, that one. He never says anything when I wave at him. He doesn’t even look at me. I’m convinced he’s not attracted to women, otherwise he and I would have already—”
“That’s enough,” I snapped at them. “Show some respect, you’re talking about a Chosen.”
They scrambled from the ledge and gasped. It was the first time I’d interacted with any of them, not recalling their names.
“Apologies, Lady Novah,” one said.
“Yes, we are so sorry, Princess,” another echoed.
The third remained pointedly quiet.
I glared at her. She was the one who had called Raithe heartless. “Don’t just stand there. I assume you have better things to do this morning?”
With reddened faces, they reluctantly bowed their heads before skittering away.
“Erm, a bit harsh?” Felaf muttered at my side.
“What? They were ogling him. It was disrespectful.”
Felaf’s stare burned my cheek as I returned my attention to the match. My own body heated when I found Raithe watching me. My fingers dug into the arms of the chair.
Barto seized the moment and slammed into Raithe’s face. I gasped as the force sent his head whipping to the right. Raithe remained unmoving as Barto swung and punched him in the opposite direction.
“Why isn’t he fighting back?” I stood to see better. “Barto may eclipse him in size, but even without his powers he’s still—”
“Faster? Smarter?”
“Yes! So why—”
“Why does he do anything he does?” Felaf asked exasperatedly. “He won’t train with me or Alekko, but he’ll waste his time doing this.”
Barto wound up for another punch. Instead of jumping to avoid the blow, Raithe stood there with his fists slightly raised as though he could somehow absorb Barto’s impending power.
“Barto doesn’t seem like the type of person to accept a pity win,” I said as Barto’s fist pummeled through Raithe’s defensive stance and met his jaw. This time, the blow sent Raithe stumbling backwards. Red gushed from his nose. I winced at the sight.
“He’s not. But Barto is all brawn and no brain.”
“He’s riling him up on purpose,” I observed, hating everything about this. “Why?”
Barto struck and struck, advancing on Raithe. I cringed, each strike to his chest like a jab to my own.
The crowd was utterly silent as each punch echoed in the air. Then Barto dealt a blow strong enough to send Raithe pummeling into the sand on his stomach. Barto seized Raithe’s curls, yanking him upright with his neck bared.
I needed to stop this insanity. As my mouth opened, Felaf rested her hand on my arm. “Raithe could turn this around or surrender if he truly wanted.”
So why didn’t he? It was as if he wanted to be bloodied and beaten. The same way he wanted Felaf to inflict Maryn’s lashes on him.
I breathed in and out, settling my heart rate. I couldn’t watch this anymore. Seeing him willingly succumb to such brutality pained me more than I could bear. I tore my eyes from the wretched scene. “I can’t stand this. Let’s go.”
Felaf rose after me. “To the tutors?”
“To Antares.”