Page 55 of The Shadows Between Us
“Now listen,” I say in a low growl. “I have a lot of money placed on you, and you’re not going to let me lose it, are you?”
“He’s too strong, miss,” the man says with unsteady breaths.
“He’s got at least one bruised rib on the right side. Quit aiming for his face and take a swing lower. Break. His. Bones.” Without another word, I get behind him and toss him into the fray.
Leandros wrinkles his nose. “You smell of sweaty male.”
“As if you could smell anything over the stench of ale on my breath.”
“Would that I were close enough to smell your breath, but—”
The fight continues, and Leandros doesn’t finish his sentence. Not as the small contender feints toward Pontin with a left fist toward the head before immediately following with a powerful jab to the ribs.
Spittle goes flying out of Pontin’s mouth, but Crooked Nose doesn’t stop there. With a flurry of quick punches, he pummels Pontin as ruthlessly as a baker would knead dough.
In only seconds, the bigger man falls.
He doesn’t rise.
The crowd silences.
I lift my skirts as I step over the brute and raise my little contender’s fist into the air. Then the noise is explosive, my ears fit to bursting from the force of it.
Notes and coins trade hands in a flurry, and the winner leans over to plant a bloody kiss on my cheek.
I’m too high off the victory to care.
Satisfied, I return to my spot, and the boy with the cup is back, brandishing an enormous wad of notes at me.
“Two hundred and fifty necos, miss. An excellent wager. But wouldn’t you like to place it on the next match? No one is that lucky only once in the games. You’ve a natural eye for talent! What say I keep this for you and place it on your victor once again?”
“Maybe next time,” I say, taking my money and tucking it away.
I can’t keep the smug smile from my lips as I turn to Leandros.
“What did you say to him?” he asks, looking dumbfounded at his champion lying still on the floor.
“He only needed a lady’s favor to find the courage to win the fight.”
The mediator quiets the room with a whistle. “Who will fight our new champion? Who’s ready to earn some money in the ring?”
I reach for Leandros’s arm to hoist it into the air for him, but he snatches it back. “I am quite content with watching.”
I let out a giggle, the ale still doing wonderful things for my head, as we watch a new contestant enter the circle.
Though I don’t place any more money, Leandros and I make our own private bets on who will win.
After three more matches, Leandros has completely lost his pride.
“No one guesses right so many times in a row!”
“It’s not luck,” I say. “It’s careful observation.”
Despite my having won every private bet between the two of us, Leandros looks doubtful. I suppose I will have to continue proving it to him.
But the floor begins to clear, the men in the circle leaving, soaking people who don’t get out of the way quick enough in sweat.
“The night is still young. The matches are done already?” I ask.
