I lowered my arms as Culiar groaned awake and rolled onto his side in pain, curling into a fetal position to grab his wounded package and broken collarbone.
Antones walked into the ring to check on him.
A light smattering of grunts and nods met me from spectators as they shuffled out of the Firehold.
No one cheered, no one clapped, no one congratulated me.
The battle-daze lifted.Faithless fuck me . . . I won!
My breath heaved. My body ached in more places than I’d realized, telling me Culiar had smacked me around more than I thought. I had just grown numb to the hits due to my adrenaline.
With a smile cracking my lips, I turned my head to find Master Lukain—
And my grin faltered.
Lukain was already gone from the room.
Chapter 14
I spent the next few months in the ring, fighting more and more Holdmates to stay fit and gain experience. There were homogenous styles among most the young men, which I exploited with my tactically cunning mind.
Turned out I had a knack for beating up boys.
I could read their movements and anticipate the next strikes well before they happened. Though many of them were faster than me, even stronger, I had been well-trained by Master Lukain.
According to some active fighters who watched my matches, I had a defensive-minded approach that worked well against the full-bore aggressive offenses of the younger Holdmates. I chose my moments precisely, lashing out only when I knew I could bring down an adversary in a flurry of well-timed attacks. My fighting style kept me from depleting my energy too quickly, often outlasting opponents with sheer tenacity.
They did warn me of facing an opponent who had more endurance than I did, and what a challenge it would be. The older grimmers were enthusiastic about watching such a fight.
My streak of three victories in successive months started to breed contempt from many of the boys in my age bracket, who felt I’d been given an unfair advantage with solitary tutoring from our leader.
On the other hand, their contempt was offset by the begrudging respect I gained from the young men who actuallysawmy bouts take place in the Firehold.
I was so curious to learn from them what a true shadowgala was like—a battle outside the Firehold, where we had to face people who wanted us dead rather than wounded. Unfortunately, watchers were never permitted to stay long enough after my bouts to tell me.
I would have to bring it up to Master Lukain, I decided. It was odd he never stuck around either—not for a congratulatory nod, a smile, or a pat on the back. It was almost like he was disappointed he had schooled me so well, or was ashamed I was defeating his male slaves.
It was an exhilarating time. The duels, which happened on a monthly basis, filled my days with preparation, constant drilling, and shot me out of the languid stupor I’d felt after seeing Father Cullard and the new Broken flock.
I had more bruises and aches than ever before. I was practically covered in purple and yellow spots, all hours of the day. There was a target on my back, and I welcomed it. I heard rumors from the girls that some of the men were vying to be my next opponent.
“To bring down the ‘Bitch-Queen,’” Helget told me with a smirk one day during second meal. “I heard them colluding to, what was it? Oh, yes, ‘Put the whore in her place.’”
Her words made me smile.
One thing I hadn’t suspected was the outpouring of support and delight from the girls over my successes. Many of them saw me as a weapon to exact revenge on specific boys who had harmed them—even trying to help choose my next opponent as if I had a choice in the decision.
No women were allowed in the Firehold to watch the bouts firsthand, since none of them were active fighters. Even so, embellished recitations of my matches made the rounds in the tunnels.
One of the girls, Imis, was good with letters. She started writing down the accounts of the battles. During days when I had a match, Jinneth told me Imis gathered no less than two dozen girls in a room to read her play-by-play retelling of my fight. Imis had a connection with one of the active fighters who was giving her information about the fights as an inside source.
Two days after my latest victory, after the night meal and too much ale, Imis asked to sleep with me, saying, “Show me how strong those thick thighs of yoursreallyare.” She jokingly begged, “Squeeze my head and snap my neck, Bitch-Queen.”
At least I thought it was a joke.
I awkwardly denied her.
Then there was Jinneth, my greatest cheerleader, who stayed in my shadow and by my side. Aelin, the one who had violated my friend, also asked to share a bed with me. Her words were even more vulgar and luridly detailed than Imis’ request, which I’d thought was impossible. Aelin’s words made me blush.
