Page 56 of The Shadows Between Us
Leandros shakes his head, a new grin surfacing. “Only the matches between the men.”
“Between themen?” I repeat.
A mop swipes over the floor, then some sort of powder is sprinkled in the area meant for the contenders. Chalk, I would guess.
Then a lady walks into the ring. She’s dressed plainly, but scandalously, with her skirts hiked up to midthigh, held in place by strings.
So she can fight, I realize.
She’s very impressive, all lithe muscle and feminine grace. With round cheeks, small eyes, and a dainty nose, no one would ever guess how she spent her nights. She wears her hair pulled out of her face, pinned tight to her scalp.
Her face is all business, not a smile to be found.
“Who will compete against last night’s champion, the Viper!” the mediator asks, walking in a circle to survey the crowd, which has somehow doubled. A body from behind me pushes, and I shove my hips right back at it.
“Why do they have the ladies go last?” I ask.
“Because they’re far more entertaining to watch,” Leandros answers.
“No doubt it has something to do with the fact that the crowd gets an excellent view of their legs?”
Leandros says nothing, confirming my suspicions.
Finally, a woman steps into the chalked-off circle. She’s bigger-boned than the Viper, with more curves on her, but by the slower way she moves, I know she won’t win.
“The Viper will beat her,” I say to Leandros.
“I’ll take that bet.”
He loses.
In seconds.
The Viper has well earned her name. Her strikes come rapidly, one after the next, and the bigger woman has no chance of fending them off. She shouldn’t have let her opponent strike first.
The Viper faces off against a second opponent.
A third.
The barmaid comes by with more ale, and I lose track of how many more drinks I take from her.
There are things I’m supposed to be asking Leandros. Questions about Kallias and if he’s had past lovers. I’m supposed to learn… something. Something that will help with my reputation, I think?
But I can’t quite remember, and right now, I don’t care one bit about any of it. I’m having far too much fun watching the Viper.
And I notice that every time she’s about to go in for a jab, she clenches her jaw ever so slightly. Her movements are fairly predictable. She likes to start high, striking the face to disorient her opponents before moving down lower to the stomach and knocking the wind out of them.
“Who’s next!” the mediator asks. “Who will face our champion and win a cut of the house’s earnings if you’re victorious? How about you?”
He singles out a young petite girl at the front of the circle. She shakes her head vehemently.
“You?” He approaches another girl, this one sturdier, better built for fighting, but she, too, declines.
Maybe it’s the ale. Or the high from all of my previous victories. Perhaps it’s my deep-down desire to be acknowledged by the world.
“I will compete!” I say.
Leandros snaps his neck around, a look of confusion crossing his features, as though someone perhaps threw their voice in my direction.
