32. Chapter Thirty-Two
These last few months, I’ve secretly watched Kyrielle’s fights, sticking to the rear of the crowd and inside shadows. I’ve always been mesmerized by the way she doesn’t let her small stature stop her from whooping tails and wings. It’ll be nice to stand in the front tonight, though.
Tonight’s fight is between her and Luca. I’ve never seen her fight a Gargoyle before, so this should be interesting.
Fynn and Orliana wait by the front doors of the arena, standing next to a female Glyridite and a female Forest Sprite I don’t recognize. When he sees me, Fynn waves.
When I’m close enough, he looks me over. “Why do you have healing bruises?”
There’s no way I’m discussing last night. “You look fatter.”
Fynn’s golden eyes narrow; he knows me well enough to know when I’m deflecting.
Thankfully, Orliana pats his flat stomach affectionately. “Don’t be mean, Trinte.”
I shrug and lie. “It’s the truth.” Turning toward the Glyridite and Sprite, I hold out a hand. “Hey. I’m Trinte, Fynn’s more handsome counterpart.”
The Glyridite grins. “I’m Reverie and this is my friend Yureka.”
Yureka looks at me with wide eyes. “You were the one who battled that Fire Sprite last weekend, weren’t you?”
“You did what?” Orliana hisses, slapping my arm. “You fought my best friend and didn’t tell us?”
I give Orliana a dry look. “Your best friend tricked me.”
“Who won?” Fynn asks curiously.
“It was a tie,” Yureka gushes. “You should’ve seen it. They choked one another until the other passed out, at the exact same time. She shoved fire down his mouth, and he tried to electrocute her. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Fynn and Orliana share laughable looks of bewilderment. I give a modest shrug. “She asked for it.”
My brother’s glare intensifies. “The two of you are supposed to be figuring out how to be friendly.”
Well, we murdered someone together last night; is that friendly enough?
“We’re trying in our own way.” I motion to Orliana. “I’m fairly certain this one can attest that Kyrielle isn’t the type to catch a cup of coffee to talk things out.”
Orliana’s mouth twists in disbelief. “I would actually disagree with you on that. She and I have never hit one another in anger.”
“We weren’t …” I go to fire back my disagreement, but the memory of my anger stops me. Finishing lamely, I repeat, “… She tricked me.”
“Tickets?”
The bouncer at the front, an oversized Cyclops, holds out a dinner-plate sized hand. Fynn places our tickets into it, and we’re let inside. Before walking ahead of me, Orliana casts me a confused glare, forcing me to look away with guilt.
“Kyrielle’s never battled Luca,” Reverie says next to me, her turquoise eyes shining with excitement. “Please tell me she’ll put him in his place. He’s too damn cocky in the ring.”
I laugh as we move through the crowd. “I can’t guarantee the outcome, but I do know she’ll give the betters a run for their money.”
“Good enough for me!” she declares, linking arms with Yureka.
We find a spot in the front, right outside the low wall separating the crowd from the battle.
Like my battle with Kyrielle, a shield air encompasses the arena to protect onlookers from elemental attacks.
The sand is freshly raked, ready for whatever the little firefly is going to do.
The seats are filling quickly, the din of conversation morphing into loud chaos.
The five of us sit, with Reverie to my left and Fynn to my right. He leans over and growls, “If you hurt Kyrielle, you understand we’re going to have issues, right?”
I roll my eyes. “You do understand she’s the primary instigator in everything, right?”
He grunts, refusing to agree. A pixie waitress takes our drinks order. I ask for a Heimlock, smiling to myself. It’s nice to have an inside joke with someone.
Finally, the announcer comes out to introduce The Firecracker and Lucasta the Lucky.
Both of them come out with swagger and a grin. I’ve practiced with Luca more than a few times and know exactly how deadly he is. Even though Kyrielle is incredibly capable, a tiny kernel of nervousness has my knee bouncing.
When her eyes catch my gaze, she gives me a small, knowing smile. Like there’s something between us worth enjoying. It’s probably a, Do you still have ash in your nose from that dead guy? kind of smile. Nothing more.
“Go, Luca!” Reverie screams fiercely. The Gargoyle flashes her a playful mock salute. He’s wearing a ridiculous loincloth, while Kyrielle wears the same outfit as usual. Looking like a warrior ready to burn down villages.
The Firecracker ignites her entire body; she’s a walking flame as she and Luca circle one another. Through the roar of the crowd, I can hear their taunting exchange.
“Don’t burn off my hair,” Luca warns her.
Kyrielle chuckles. “You might look good bald.”
Luca’s tail flicks in irritation. “My wife will literally murder you if you turn me bald.”
The Firecracker looks wholly unconcerned. “Forfeit now and you can go check your reflection in case you’re worried.”
Grinning, I watch them circle one another until the bell rings, signalling the beginning.
Kyrielle attacks first, shooting fire darts at him.
Luca shifts his skin, turning into a hardened periwinkle.
When his tail lashes out toward her ankle, she flicks her wings, gaining height before flipping over him.
Without lighting it on fire, she grabs his hair and yanks it.
Luca whirls, wings flat like blades. She ducks, but my heart went right into my throat for that one. He could’ve decapitated her.
It’s immediately apparent I’m not prepared to watch her get hurt.
Reverie screams for Luca to duck when Kyrielle thrusts her hands out, tossing a broad shield of fire at him. The Gargoyle blocks it with the back of his wing, then rips his wings apart, sending a pounding wall of air at Kyrielle. She skids backward in the sand, laughing.
My knee jiggles more; the instincts inside me rage to go help. To protect.
I do not like that at all.
Fynn’s hand comes to my knee. “You’re showing a lot right now.”
Shoving his hand off, I mutter, “I have to pee really bad.”
My brother scoffs. “Sure.”
Like in our fight last week, Kyrielle violently claps her hands, sending blinding hot smoke into Luca’s face. And, just like last week, she uses the distraction to sprint at the towering Gargoyle, spring from her feet, and land a series of punches on his face before he knows what’s happening.
Unfortunately for her, he has a far more dexterous tail than mine.
It whips up, snatching her around the waist and tossing her aside.
Kyrielle slams into the sand. My eyes stay focused on her delicate wings, but they appear to be fine.
She flips upward fast enough, but clearly, by the way she leans on her knees, she’s had the wind knocked out of her.
Luca uses his wings to disperse the wind and locks onto her. He’s an honorable fighter, but even with that grin on his face, I don’t like the way he stalks toward her. She looks at him through long, burnt orange lashes, a flash of fear in her expression.
I’m this close to vaulting into the arena — what the fuck is wrong with me? — when I see that special little glint in her eye. Luca raises a fist, realizing too late that the fear’s fake. As his enormous fist comes down, she raises both palms, catching his fist.
Then kicks him right between the legs.
I bark out a laugh, knowing exactly how that feels. I mean, you have to hand it to the little Sprite — she does what’s necessary.
Luca’s knees buckle, and Reverie laughs.
My head jerks in her direction with a frown. “Your husband just got kicked in the dick and you’re laughing?”
The Glyridite shrugs. “My husband won’t care. He’ll appreciate the learning lesson. And I love watching a Fire Sprite whoop his tail.”
Impressed, I refocus on the two trading punches.
In the time I’ve looked away, he’s apparently landed a punch in her left eye and he has a split lip.
Both are breathing hard, foregoing elemental attacks for actual boxing moves.
She can’t reach his face, but she uses her wings to gain elevation to do so.
Luca lets her, laughing, but not in a mocking way. I think he just enjoys a good fight.
With some silent signal, they take to the air, doing aerial acrobatics. Kyrielle spends half the time avoiding Luca’s tail, hurling fireballs at his chest. He’s shifted to stone form to fly more easily, so the fire leaves only scorch marks.
It’s starting to look like it might also be a tie when Kyrielle’s wing gets hit by Luca’s tail. It’s clearly an accident, by the look on his face, but in his attempt to jerk his tail away, it wrenches the wing. There’s a pop; she screams. Kyrielle’s falling and Luca is rushing to catch her.
The five of us stand, with Orliana crying out in fear, and I can’t breathe. At that height, she could die. Terror for Kyrielle propels me into motion, even though it’ll be too late.
The Gargoyle tucks his wings and drops toward the ground, but he’s too big; too slow.
My body is leaping over the low wall, sprinting toward the Fire Sprite tumbling out of the air. Her eyes are full of fear, arms out in a futile attempt to catch herself. Without thinking, I leap forward, arms out, and use magyck to activate a blast of wind behind me. It shoots me forward faster.
Then Kyrielle’s in my arms, belly first. Using every ounce of strength available, I barely prevent her smashing into the sand. There’s an inch between her face and the ground, with my trembling arms as the buffer.
Her wings fold delicately against her back, except for the top right one. Where the wing meets her shoulder, it’s black and blue already. A severe tear and probably a dislocation.
“Oh, my goddess,” Luca cries out, landing with a resounding boom on the arena floor. He rushes over as I gently lay her down on the sand. Coach Richor is immediately at our side.
“Don’t flip her yet,” he orders.
Carefully, I stand, trying to keep her body steady. Kyrielle’s silent, but her body violently shakes from the undoubted agony.
Coach bends over to look her in the face. “Can you stand?”
“I-I don’t know.” Fear rasps her voice.
As slowly as possible, I tilt her body as he guides her to standing. It’s a careful process to avoid the injured wing and her unusable arm.
Tears streak her dirty face. Knowing how much she wants to have a brave face at all times, I rip off a sliver of my shirt and wipe them away. Our eyes connect; she gives me a small, grateful smile. Minus the expected bumps and bruises from the fight, she’s fine. I exhale with relief.
Coach Richor murmurs, “We need to get the Healing Medic in here.”
“Medic!” Luca screams, looking absolutely distraught. He’s covered in dirt, sweat, and blood. Reverie, Orliana, and Fynn come to his side. Reverie wraps arms around her husband, trying to assure him it’s okay. Orliana’s sobbing, with Fynn’s arms around her.
Kyrielle leans into my chest, clearly exhausted. Using my hands to keep her steady, I watch Healing Medics rush into the arena. All the while, the crowd watches and points at Kyrielle. I hate it for her.
Motioning for Luca to come closer, I say, “Can you block with your wings right now?”
He nods, looking relieved for something to do. To Kyrielle, he says, “I’m so sorry, Kyri. It was an accident.”
She waves away his apology. “I know it was. I don’t blame you at all.”
Healing Medics begin looking Kyrielle over. Coach turns to Orliana and Fynn. “She’s going to need help. Can either of you get her home?”
“I will,” I say abruptly, interrupting Orliana from whatever she was opening her mouth to say. Fynn gives me a lingering, warning look. I ignore it.
Coach, even with a hard-to-decipher face, looks surprised. “You?”
“Yes.”
“It’s fine,” Kyrielle says softly. “Besides, Fynn and Orliana are going out-of-town tomorrow.”
“We can cancel it,” Orliana rushes out.
Fynn finally breaks our stare. “Baby, it’s fine. Trinte can take care of her. Joulian would be devastated if we cancel now.”
Coach looks between the four of us. “Are you all related?”
“In a way,” I grit out, hating every inch of this conversation. Kyrielle hasn’t stopped trembling, and she needs to rest.
The Healing Medic takes a step back. “It’s a scapular tear. We can give her healing tonics, but they’ll take a few days to work. She’ll need help twenty-four seven.”
Coach levels me with an indecipherable look. “You’re … okay with that?”
“Yes.”
Kyrielle looks up at me with saucer-sized eyes, bloodshot and swollen. “You sure?”
“If someone asks me that one more time, I’m going to scream,” I mutter. To Coach, I say, “I’ll take her home. It’ll be fine.”
I have no idea if that’ll turn out to be true, but there’s no way I’ll let her struggle to survive the next few days with a useless arm and wing.