Chapter 4
The Ringbreaker of Caelora.
The title landed like rot in my chest. Only moments before, I’d felt something when our eyes met.
Even now, I saw the small silver ring at his ear, revealed by dark brown hair swept back, and felt that same pull toward his darkness.
I shoved it down. He was the empire’s executioner.
Everything I detested in this world. He was no quiet figure whipped into obedience.
Tales of his victories followed wherever he went. A monster—
and my pulse rose all the same.
The crowd gathered near the center of the room, forming a wide circle around the marble podium.
The Ringbreaker stepped onto the marble in silence, taller than the others, the black saber tattoo cutting across his bronze chest like a warning.
Rhenik followed. He was much smaller, his skin pale where the champion’s was bronze.
Both wore only mail trousers with black metal greaves and were handed a blade by one of the servants.
I followed Elion to the back of the circle and clutched his arm. I lowered my gaze to the stone. Don’t look. Don’t look.
Shadows moved across the floor in the torchlight as the crowd fell into a taut, expectant silence.
“I won’t be watching,” I whispered.
Elion took my hand. “You should. Get used to it now. It’s only an exhibition. They won’t maim each other.”
Marcus’s voice rang out over the cheering crowd. “No killing blow will be delivered tonight, but blood will be a welcome sight. Warriors—begin!”
At the first guttural shout, I flinched. The crowd roared.
My eyes lifted anyway. Rhenik wore a wolfish grin, black ringlets framing his face. Thanor’s face gleamed beneath the torchlight. His dark green eyes, shadowed beneath heavy brows, remained fixed on Rhenik, his expression carved from stone.
Then Rhenik lunged without warning, his blade flashing toward Thanor’s throat.
I barely saw Thanor move before steel crashed.
He caught the strike just short of his face, arms locking as the force drove him back a step, then another.
His muscles tightened under slick skin, oil and sweat catching the light as the pressure mounted.
For a moment, it looked like Rhenik might break through.
I swallowed. Thanor’s jaw clenched. He held. Then he drove forward.
The shift was sudden, violent enough that it didn’t look like muscle alone.
Dark strands broke free from where his hair had been partly tied back, whipping across his face as their blades scraped together.
He forced Rhenik back, breaking his balance.
Rhenik stumbled, and Thanor closed the distance immediately, slamming his shoulder into his chest hard enough to knock the breath from him.
Rhenik staggered, his heel slipping off the edge of the marble.
His weight tipped for a split second, balance faltering as his arms shifted to catch himself.
When he straightened, the humor was gone.
They began to circle, slower now. The air between them tightened, every step measured, every movement waiting for the next mistake.
“Watch their feet,” Elion murmured.
I did. Thanor’s steps were grounded, controlled. Rhenik’s were lighter. Uneven.
Thanor struck.
Rhenik caught it with a sharp grunt, the force jolting through him. Thanor struck again, then again, each blow driving him back. His boots scraped across the stone as the distance collapsed. His guard slipped lower with every exchange. He was already breathing hard. Thanor wasn’t.
A ripple of gasps broke through the onlookers when Thanor hooked Rhenik’s blade and wrenched it down.
Rhenik dropped to one knee with a strained exhale.
“Their sabers aren’t here. Still I can barely follow them… how?” I breathed.
“Even without the magic of their bond near, they see things sooner. React faster,” Elion replied.
Thanor stepped back, letting Rhenik rise. Then advanced again. His movements were economical to the point of cruelty. Each blow landed where it would humiliate.
Rhenik tried to feint. Thanor didn’t bite. The hilt of his blade drove into Rhenik’s jaw. A choked sound tore from him as blood snapped from his lips. The crowd cried out as one.
I should’ve looked away. Thanor looked wild, but nothing in him was uncontrolled. His face stayed cold, unreadable. Rhenik, even now, was smiling.
Control and chaos. I couldn’t look away.
“Look,” Elion whispered.
Rhenik lunged, a hoarse shout ripping from his throat.
Thanor slipped aside and was behind him before I could follow the movement. His arm locked around Rhenik’s throat. Rhenik slammed his head back into Thanor’s face, breaking the hold, but Thanor recovered instantly. He knocked Rhenik’s legs out from under him and drove him down to one knee.
The blade hovered at his throat and silence fell.
Rhenik’s weapon slipped from his hand and struck the stone with a jarring, final clang.
Thanor held his blade still for a heartbeat, long enough for everyone to see, before stepping back and lowering his weapon. Only then did the hall erupt into applause.
Air rushed into my lungs as the tension finally eased. Elion stepped away from me to join in the applause. My hands remained clenched at my sides. I refused to join the celebration. Cold shame settled over me as I unwillingly acknowledged the truth pressing in. The Ringbreaker was formidable.
Rhenik rose and wiped the blood from his nose before stepping back into the line at the wall.
The warriors clapped him on the back approvingly.
Thanor’s blade was taken as he joined the line as well, but he received no welcome.
His gaze swept over the cheering crowd with disgust before masking it with indifference.
His head snapped up. The cold within me vanished, something hotter taking its place as his eyes traveled over me, lingering at my ear. Realizing my hand still rested there, I lowered it quickly. Without looking away, he rolled his neck.
A soft laugh drifted between us. Cassara moved to my side, her lips curved. “One can see why our champion holds his reputation. A presence like that does not go unnoticed.”
Aelia joined with heated interest. “Men shaped by danger tend to attract attention. Can you imagine such violence unleashed upon you—his hands grasping you as he bends you over and rams inside you?”
Both women laughed, clearly having had too much wine. But their words had painted a vivid image which heated my cheeks. The exhibition had ended, and people were already slipping back into their depraved amusements—no corner remained untouched by it. I stared at Elion, willing him to look at me.
I needed to leave.
To my frustration he was engaged in animated conversation with Marcus. Behind him, the warriors now stood spaced apart like living statues amid the slow swirl of the guests.
Aelia and Cassara moved over to the Ringbreaker.
They were touching him, stroking his glistening chest as they laughed, clearly pleased.
Men entered the circle as well, admiring the other warriors without shame.
Thanor didn’t react. He was fixed upon the wall on the other side of the room.
His body was offered up for inspection while his mind remained elsewhere. This—this wasn’t right.
I forced myself to look away and study the others instead, as if understanding them might make him easier to dismiss.
Not all of the warriors bore attention the same way.
Rhenik laughed openly as a woman traced a finger along his arm, leaning into the praise.
Another gave a crooked smile when a group of men commented loudly on his strength, flexing just enough to earn it. They accepted the admiration easily.
At last, Elion broke away. Questions pressed at my lips. “Why are they… left like this?”
His answer came in a whisper. “Because tonight they are not fighters. They are proof.”
“Of what?”
“That the Empire owns what it creates. The sight unsettles me as well. Only one of them has to turn violent, and not one guard in here could stop them. Displaying them like this, seeing them obedient and complacent, I think it makes weaker men feel powerful. Don’t you agree?”
My mouth dried. He was right. Only one of them had to snap, and we would all be slaughtered.
The thought snapped my gaze back to Thanor, to the set of his harsh jaw and his hands resting loosely at his sides.
I shuddered at the thought of him snapping.
I didn’t want to pity the warriors, and I didn’t want to admire them.
I resented the way the night kept pushing me toward both.
The Ringbreaker’s stillness shifted as Aelia and Cassara left him standing alone. It was almost as if he released a breath he’d been holding.
“I want to leave. Can we go now?” I whispered.
Elion clasped my arm and we drifted through the lingering guests.
A group approached us, their voices boisterous as if most had indulged in too much wine.
Aelia was draped around her husband, stroking his arm, while Cassara cast coy glances his way despite her own husband at her side. They stopped before us.
“Miss Greenwillow,” Decimus said, “you look quite overwhelmed. These evenings can be… indulgent. How did you enjoy the spectacle?”
Aelia’s reaction was immediate. She leaned into her husband’s space. “My Lord husband, do not draw attention to Miss Greenwillow. She is only a little girl after all, clearly lacking experience in matters of the flesh. Look at her face—she is entirely red. You should not embarrass her further.”
Elion’s grasp tightened on my arm. But I didn’t mind. If Aelia could deter her husband, it would only serve me. Unfortunately, I caught a spark of desire on Decimus’s face.
“Really, husband. Must you hover? Our guest has managed perfectly well all evening,” Aelia snapped, her fingers grasping his dark cloak, reminding him of appearances.
He shook off her arm. “Turn toward the carriage, wife. You have clearly indulged in too much wine. I will join you shortly while I finish here.”
Shock flashed across her face and Cassara quickly led her away.
Elion moved between us. “My thanks to you, Lord Aedile—and to your wife. Your hospitality has been… generous. But the night has grown late. We should return home.”
Tiberion dipped his head and turned back to his guests. But Decimus stepped forward, took my hand, and pressed his mouth to my skin.
“I do not mind your innocence,” he murmured. “In fact, I relish it. It is one of life’s many pleasures, treading paths not yet explored. We will meet again shortly.”
He turned on his heel to rejoin his wife, who cast one final, hate-filled look at me before he urged her outside with a hand at her back. I shuddered as I watched their retreating backs.
Elion clasped my shoulder. “Are you alright? I did my best to keep him away, but he wouldn’t be deterred. I’m sorry I had to leave you on your own. Did he touch you?”
“It’s not your fault. Hopefully, it will be a long time before I see him again.” My jaw tightened. “I understand now why you tried to keep me away from people like them. But I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of frightening me into staying home.”
He nodded, clearly too exasperated with how the evening played out to argue with me. His hand moved to my back, steering me away from the departing guests.
As we approached the door, I didn’t look back, not until we reached the threshold. Then, against my better judgment—against every instinct—I did.
The Ringbreaker stood where he’d been all along, his features cold, his eyes fixed on me, hatred held tight behind them. My piercing flared in answer before Elion urged me through the door, and the night swallowed us.