21. You Will Be My Prize
YOU WILL BE MY PRIZE
I didn’t get to see Damien for another three days, until the day before The Games.
The one good thing that came from the assassination attempt was that it diverted the courts’ attention away from Leif’s already disappeared unsuccessful mating mark.
No longer did we have to endure the derisive, malicious whispers all around when I accompanied Leif to take a walk in the gardens.
People seemed to have forgotten about us, as the new rumours were all centred around the assassination attempt.
Some said the king had tasked his most cryptic and feared agents, the Silent Hands, to investigate the assassins’ identities.
Some said many secret arrests had been made, and the suspects were being tortured for information.
Some also said letters were sent to the vampires, demanding an explanation.
But at the end of the day, I hadn’t heard anything trustworthy, yet.
One thing was for sure, though. Damien didn’t tell anyone about the ring we found on one of the assassins.
Lovel had taken on the “duty” of caring for Damien, which included bringing him more medicine, changing the bandage on his wounded shoulder, and spending long hours by his side.
In every hallway, the maids and servants whispered about how Lovel was surely going to be selected at the ball, while a crestfallen sentiment clouded over the other candidates like a grey mist, believing Lovel had won the prince’s favour.
I tried not to care or think about it, because rationally I knew how ridiculous and petty it was for an alpha to be jealous of an omega over another alpha.
However, the longer I had been separated from Damien, the stronger the mating mark affected me.
That gnawing, spiny sensation crawling under my skin grew stronger each day, and by the third day, I woke up restless and skittish, wanting to punch someone for no apparent reason.
I headed to the training yard, hoping to blow off some steam through fighting with other warriors.
At this point, even being punched was a desirable distraction.
However, the moment I stepped into the yard, I saw people gathered around the fighting ring, watching Damien spar with one of his alpha companions.
It had only been three days since he had almost died from the arrow poison. Was he healed enough to fight others? I thought, frowning.
I observed his movements as I approached the ring.
They were fighting with blunt practice swords, and it was also the first time I had seen Damien wielding a sword.
He was incredibly nimble for his height, moving with such cadence and fluency as though it were a dance, and the sword was his lover.
Each of his strikes against the other alpha seemed effortless, almost playful, like a cat playing with prey.
Yet, each clash was imbued with potency and deadly precision.
His gaze met mine for a split second, and suddenly, his fighting style shifted.
His blade work became much more flamboyant and ornate, flaunting his exceptional skills every chance he got, to the point I even worried he would drop his sword halfway.
It certainly charmed the audience, though. Their whooping leapt an octave higher.
Among the audience, Lovel and several other candidates were present as well. I saw their smitten gazes follow Damien eagerly, oozing affection, and they were yelling and cheering with effusive enthusiasm.
Finally getting his fill of peacocking, Damien’s attack grew faster and mightier, raining down like a storm of steel shards, pushing his opponent back into a corner.
With an elegant feigning move, Damien tricked the other alpha into exposing his left flank.
The showy fight culminated with Damien’s sword tip on the other alpha’s throat.
While the crowd burst into a chorus of cheers and applause, Damien quickly glanced in my direction and winked.
Such a show-off ... I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t tuck away the smile hanging on the corners of my mouth.
Just then, three warriors from the other northern clans that I’d befriended came to greet me.
I bumped fists and shoulders with them, and we chatted idly about getting ready for The Games, which would commence tomorrow.
I stole a few glances in Damien’s direction and saw that Lovel was fussing over him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, which, according to Leif, was an omega’s code of telling other omegas that they had some sort of claim over the alpha.
Damien’s posture looked rigid, even the charming smile he often wore on his face was a little awkward, but he didn’t stop Lovel’s attempt.
The nagging feeling of wanting to punch something came back, and I couldn’t focus on what my other northern friends were saying.
One of them noticed my inattention and asked me if something was bothering me.
I made up some excuse about remembering that I had to tell Leif about something, hoping to remove myself from the training yard, so I didn’t have to watch Lovel working his charm on Damien.
Even though every molecule in my body was screaming at me to go to Damien, to let his scent envelop me, to calm my stretched nerves and salve the longing in my heart, I turned on my heels and marched away.
However, someone’s quick steps approached me when I was at the gate, and before I even looked back, Damien’s scent had already reached me like hundreds of grasping tendrils.
The perspiration from the fight had made everything enticing about his smell twice as strong, and I had to spend a few seconds holding back a moan and adjusting my expression before I turned to face him.
“Why are you leaving?” Damien asked. I saw Lovel standing some distance away, eyeing me warily.
“Too crowded,” I said frigidly.
“What, are you shy?” he said, a small taunting glint in his dark irises.
“Fuck off.” I rolled my eyes, wanting to ignore him and walk away.
But his hand soon closed around my forearm.
“Come on, let’s spar,” he suggested. “None of the others are challenging enough. I need a better opponent.”
“Maybe your companions didn’t want to embarrass you publicly,” I retorted, even though I knew I was playing right into his game.
“All the more reason for you to step in and save me from the boring flatteries,” he said, pulling me toward the fighting ring.
I only half-heartedly struggled for a few seconds before letting him lead me back.
I liked the feeling of his fingers on my arm.
It might sound pathetic, but after starving for his scent and presence for three days, every little bit of body contact was like a sumptuous feast to a beggar.
“Are you sure you are not overdoing it?” I asked quietly. “Your wound ...”
“It’s already healed, and I need to warm up for The Games,” he reassured me, then looked back with a wide grin. “Are you worrying about me?”
I decided to answer it with a dirty look.
As we approached the busier area, Damien let go of my arm. I lamented the loss of the touch, and then chided myself for being so thoroughly affected by the mate bond.
“You can pick your weapon,” Damien said as we entered the ring. “I like a good old sword. I heard you like axes when fighting vampires?”
I sauntered along the weapon racks. All of them were used for practice, and none of the blades were sharp enough to cut.
They were still made of steel and weighed as much as a real weapon and might cause injury if used with too much force.
I considered the options for a moment and decided to forgo my usual axe.
Instead, I picked up a thin iron chain from the bottom of a crate, possibly used to lock up the stash of weapons at night.
“I’ll use this,” I said.
A murmur spread among the bystanders.
Damien raised a brow. “Are you serious? That’s not a weapon.”
“That’s rude.” I chuckled while tying one end of the chain into a knot. “This is basically a flail without a handle.”
“Are you trying to go easy on me?” Damien squinted, seemingly offended.
“Oh, you think this will be easy?” I curled my lips. “Try not to cry later, little prince.”
The ring was cleared, and we stood on opposite sides, our eyes locked into a wordless yet intense match of will.
I held the extra length of chain in my left hand and began swinging the knotted end with my right hand.
The chain swirled faster and faster, making a constant whooshing sound as it blurred into a black circle.
Meanwhile, Damien raised his sword. The cold glint of the blade echoed the predatory gleam in his gaze. I sensed his expending aura, dark and dangerous, like black opium. It made my blood boil in excitement.
Everything else suddenly faded into white noise. All I could see was him standing across from me, challenging me with that beautiful yet fiendish smirk.
I charged at him, using my elbow to rapidly change the chain’s swinging direction, making it impossible for him to predict where the attack would come. The length of the chain also gave me an advantage over him, allowing me to initiate the first strike without entering his sword’s range.
Damien’s eyes widened when I suddenly used my neck as a pivot and rapidly changed the chain’s direction right before my strike. He obviously didn’t expect that I could manipulate it with so much flexibility, and the knot of my chain hit his right arm.
It was a thin chain, and the knot was loose, so it wouldn’t seriously injure him, but it would still bruise and make him hiss in pain.
“Still think I’m going easy on you?” I let my smugness soak my countenance.
Damien only smiled wider as a spark of thrill ignited his gaze. He kept his stance, observing my movements with rapt attention.
I rotated the chain over my shoulder, then alternated its direction between my two elbows, letting it fly around me like a seamless web, leaving him no opening to attack while giving me every opportunity to strike.
Soon I struck again, this time using my right leg to alternate the chain’s swing direction.
However, this time Damien was ready; he swung the long sword into a beautiful crescent and deflected my attack.
I pulled the chain back briefly and struck three, four times, all from different angles with rapid speed, but Damien managed to either dodge or parry all of them.
He moved as nimbly and gracefully as a panther; even when rolling on the ground, he would always roll back on his feet without even looking flustered.
Shortly, he managed to cleave his way through my defence, like a ghost gliding across the space between us.
I used my chain to lock up his blade, trying to kick him in the chest, but he withdrew his blade and leapt back before I could reach him. He even gave me a cheeky wink as he circled me from several steps away.
I chuckled, not finding it annoying; on the contrary, I took my time and enjoyed this game, as though it were not a match but a form of dance. Each of our strikes or blocks was like a coordinated conversation between two partners, flirtatious yet not without danger.
At some point, my chain managed to wrap around his sword, and I yanked him close.
Our faces were merely inches apart, and our eyes locked, each gazing deeply into the other’s soul.
In that moment, time seemed to slow down, and the bastard even pinched my butt surreptitiously as he magically untangled himself with a flourished turn.
We didn’t realize how long we’d been playing this game until we were both exhausted. Eventually, my chain and his sword formed a gridlock again, and our bodies pressed so close that I could feel his heat permeating through the already drenched tunic.
How I wished I could taste the beady sweat on his neck, how I wanted his hand to roam on my chest. And yet, we were the centre of all attention, and I began to realize we had dragged this on for way too long ... It could begin to look strange.
“That’s enough,” I whispered to him. “We need to end this.”
He continued to stare at me, saying, “What if I don’t want to?”
“I mean this fight!”
“I know.” He licked his sensuous lips slowly, deliberatively. “I can’t have enough of you for anything, my little wolf.”
Bastard! I felt my cheeks were on fire, and my heart was pounding way too fast.
But apparently, he wasn’t done playing with me yet. He leaned in slightly and said in a husky, purring voice that only we could hear: “I’ll win three matches in The Games tomorrow, and then ... I’ll have you as my prize, Fenris.”