22. The Games #3
I noticed Damien’s hold on his sword was no longer steady, and his arms were trembling a little.
I heard sharp inhales around us, even Leif covered his mouth to stifle a gasp when Garran’s powerful kick sent Damien flying backward, landing on his back.
He rolled back on his feet and dodged the next attack in time.
Otherwise, his head could have been split in half by Ser Garren’s merciless smite.
My palms had grown sweaty. In fact, my inner shirt was entirely drenched in sweat.
The last time I was this terrified was when Damien passed out from the arrow poison, and I wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.
I darted my gaze to the centre of the royal pavillion, where the king, the queen, and their other two children were seated.
I was hoping that the king or the queen would call it off, or do something to stop it, but they did nothing.
Their body language was so impassive as though they were entirely unbothered that someone was trying to kill their son.
I then glowered at Valerian with a sudden rage. If anything happened to Damien today, I would not let it go unanswered ...
Could I do something? It was a fair match, so I really had no way to help except to watch. And it should be this way, for that was the tradition, the entire point of The Games. It had never bothered me before ...
Suddenly, Damien threw his sword to the ground and let out a guttural growl. His body shifted in a single fluid leap, shedding all his clothes and armour. His wolf form was as majestic as I remembered, shooting at the knight like a dark meteor.
Almost at the same time, Garran shifted, too.
A gigantic grey wolf met Damien’s attack with the same ferocity; their massive bodies collided, and claws sharper than blades dug deep into each other’s flesh, spilling blood on the yellow sand.
Their roar reverberated in the arena, overshadowing all the shouting and cheering.
It was like a fight to the death, rather than a regular match.
“Fenris ... Are you alright?” Leif asked quietly.
Only then did I notice how tense my body had become. My nails dug deep into my palms, cutting into the skin, drawing blood.
Then I suddenly remembered that my mother once told me that a successful mate bond connected both the giver and the bearer, and sometimes, when the bond was strong enough, they could sense each other’s emotions or thoughts, even when they were far apart.
And in battle, they could even lend each other strength, supporting and complementing one another, making both stronger.
Since Damien gave me the mark, I’d been rejecting it, trying to forget its existence as much as possible. I’d never tried to test its potential benefits ... But what if it could help Damien survive this now?
I closed my eyes, calling to Damien with all my thoughts.
I imagined that I was down there, in my wolf form, fighting with him side by side: how I would shield him from more of Garran’s attacks, like he had shielded me from the arrow; how I would lend him all my strength and vigour; how I would tear anyone who dared to hurt him apart with my fangs.
A warmth began to grow under my skin right beneath my mating mark.
It continued to spread through my body like a warm stream.
Then, I felt it, a pull so strong that for a moment, I sensed Damien’s presence, so close as though he was right next to me ...
no, even closer, like he was in my head. And I knew he sensed mine, too.
It was a strange feeling. I was simultaneously in two places, watching from both Damien’s eyes and mine, and I knew he felt the same. It was almost like my body was merging into his, and my strength had become his.
Suddenly, Damien’s attack changed. He grew faster than ever before, as if he had never been worn down by two other matches.
His body also grew larger. Beautiful, mighty muscles bulged under his raven fur, and each of his swipes was imbued with potency; each of his leaps was higher and swifter than the last. He moved like a shadow, weightless and effortless, yet each contact was mighty and deadly.
Garran couldn’t comprehend such a sudden change, and even he couldn’t keep up anymore. He began to stumble, to evade more than attack, and he was slowly pushed into a corner.
Eventually, Garran’s exhaustion caught up with him, and a weakness was finally exposed. Damien snatched the opportunity with relentless viciousness, clamping his jaw on Garran’s neck, biting down like a falling execution blade on a guillotine.
Garran whimpered before he went limp.
The entire stadium went eerily silent for a second, then exploded into a pandemonium of cheering and whooping. People shot up from their seats, screaming Damien’s name.
Damien dropped Garran’s body, and I noticed he didn’t kill the knight. Garran was still moving, and his body slowly returned to his human form, though it was obvious he was in no condition to continue the match.
Damien had won.
I slumped back into my seat, feeling as though I was also exhausted from the match.
The immense anxiety was ebbing away as I watched him slowly saunter along the grandstand, accepting the ovation and love from thousands of spectators.
All I wanted to do was rush to him and hold him tight, just to know he was okay and alive.
I knew how irrational this feeling was. It must be from the bond, which I had possibly greatly strengthened by trying to use it to support Damien, entirely against my initial intention to let it fade ...
The thing was, I didn’t even care anymore. Damien was alive, and it was worth it.
The king stood up, clapping his hands for the great show of strength, courage, and mercy. The queen also smiled with teary eyes. Valerian and Cassandra both looked happy for their brother, but I didn’t know how much of it was acting.