20. Three Black Eyes

Isleep in the next day and cut my first run of the day short when I spot the newly returned hunters installing a thick mattress from the gym in the clearing between the balcony and the Hawthorn.

Lori and James wave me under the shade of the sacred tree, and I dash over to them, my long ponytail braid swinging at my back. "Hey, what's going on?"

"Combat training," James answers.

A mischievous smirk glazes Lori's lips, my friend wearing the hunters' uniform for the first time since we've met. "It's more than combat training. It's a contest."

I wipe off the beads of sweat pearling on my forehead with my sleeve. "What are the rules?"

"No weapons allowed, but other than that, anything goes. The goal is to throw your opponent off the mat. Two fighters go at a time, and the winner gets to choose the next two. Losers are eliminated, and the last man or woman standing gets to lead the next great hunt."

I swallow hard.

Lori nudges my shoulder playfully with her fist. "Don't worry, Old World. It's not open to seeds, only hunters."

"I'm so glad that nickname is catching on," I grumble, sarcasm thick in my voice.

The big guy, Jo, jumps over a tall rock and shows off two pieces of crumpled paper. "Lori and Cary go first."

"Here goes." With an elastic band tucked between her teeth, she brushes back her black waves. "Wish me luck." She ties them neatly at the back of her neck and pulls up a black scarf over her head, leaving only her eyes uncovered.

Her mood is much improved from last night, and I've never seen her looking so…alive. The arrival of the big group shifted the entire atmosphere in the castle. Such a big, inviting space should never be left so empty.

Her opponent, Cary, runs away from his friends with a big grin on his face before turning toward us. "Heyyo, Lori! I'm over here! Come meet my fists, comrade." He jumps dramatically and lands on the corner of the mattress, making a circular movement with his arms like he's struggling to keep his balance, and finally salutes his audience. "Who wants to bet on how many black eyes I can give Lori?"

"One," Mara says, using her hands to amplify her voice.

Jo holds three fingers above his head. The leader sits on a flat rock with his black shirt rolled up to his elbows, and an elusive smile appears on his lips. "I say Lori wins with three."

James leans closer to my ear. "How do you get three black eyes?"

I shake my head, at a total loss.

The two hunters on the mattress circle each other.

Mara and Two are huddled close together on the opposite side of the fight, clearly engrossed in their conversation, but I force my gaze back to the sparring session. Cary's loud insults blur together, his strategy clearly to distract Lori, his foul mouth blasting a whole lot of nonsense.

Lori seems unaffected by even the most vulgar jab as she glides out of his reach and avoids the first series of attacks, never letting him get close to her. The crowd reacts to her smooth escapes with loud ooohs and ahhhs, making it hard for Cary to concentrate. He finally loses patience and jumps to grab her.

Her elbow collides with his left eye, "One." She slams the other one with a right hook, "Two."

Cary tries to knock her off balance and immobilize her in a bear hug, but she slips under his arm, spins around, and finishes him off with a kick between the legs.

"That's three," she chimes happily.

Her lethal poise and impressive speed sparks a sense of pride in my chest.

Who knew she was so good…

She presses her thumb to the middle of Cary's forehead to knock him off balance, and the poor bloke topples over to the grass, holding his groin.

James hisses by my side, his hand flying to his crotch. "I have my answer."

Lori pulls down her scarf, and her huge grin is contagious while Misha goes to help his friend up. "Ouch. That must hurt."

Cary stumbles to his feet with his back hunched, holding on to the tall brown-haired man. He gives Joseph a nasty glance. "How did you know she'd gotten so good?"

"Don't blame me. You're the only one who didn't notice." Jo dusts off his pants and strolls over to shake the winner's hand. "Congrats, little ninja. You showed him."

Lori beams at him. "Thanks, boss."

As the leader and more advanced hunter, I can tell his praises mean something to her. Before stepping off the mat, my friend curtsies like a trouper after a show. "Jo and Mitch."

The hunters clap at that.

Mitchell, the tall boy with more limbs than muscles, makes a weird gesture with his hand, showing just his middle finger, and everyone laughs. "Go to hell, Lori."

Jo shrugs off his button-down shirt, leaving only a thin gray camisole to cover his chest. "Sorry, Mitch. This isn't your season."

The two men circle each other, but before the second revolution is done, Jo breaks the pattern and slides a foot forward. Mitch draws back, skittish, and widens his circle to avoid the attack, but his leader anticipated his move and pirouettes in front of him. Mitch digs his heels into the mattress and braces his hands in front of his face, but instead of throwing a punch, Jo waits for him to go on the offensive, his feet inches from the edge. Thinking he has a shot at winning, Mitch roars forward, but Jo uses his friend's ill-advised momentum to swing him off the mattress instead.

Our gazes cross, and Jo offers me a wink. He points to two new fighters, and so the contest goes. I quickly realize everyone picks him for the next fight, the entire band of hunters united against him.

"Why do you guys always pick Jo?" I whisper to Lori.

"Jo always wins. It's his tenth straight season leading the hunt, and last fall he even won on a bad knee."

Everyone groans loudly every time Jo eliminates a player, the predictable fights ending quickly and without any real tension. Even Lori's flexibility and speed can't manage to hold the slick hunter off, and my friend is quickly eliminated.

It's all over before long, and the victor wipes his face off with a towel. "Since I gave you all a good whipping, I get to go against Two. For fun."

The tired grimaces melt from the crowd.

"You know me, I'm always up for a fight." Two unzips his thick black jacket and tosses it to Mara under a throng of applause. He's not wearing anything underneath, and the sight of his bare chest melts my brain. My breath catches when I catch a glimpse of a wide-tipped shadow over his heart.

The same scar…and just like One's, it moves with its owner, blurring slightly like there's a few seconds delay between its movement and Two's.

Before the knight can step on the mattress, Jo motions for him to wait, his gaze glued on something behind me. Murmurs echo around the gardens, and I crane my neck around to see what stopped him cold.

One contemplates the crowd for a long minute until the whispers die down. His voice is low and devoid of humor as he finally says, "What about me? Would you fight me, Joseph?"

"Sorry Two." Jo shakes out his fists and cracks his neck. "I can't pass up on that."

Two grins a little too widely, his distaste for the interruption clear as day. "Of course."

He crosses his arms, the muscles all knots and bulges, and leans back on the castle wall. Many of us continue to ogle at his nakedness, a fact that doesn't please him enough to erase his sour pout.

The combat starts as many others have, with Jo and One circling each other, but Jo doesn't have the same air of ease to him as he did before, his sight riveted on the dark Fae, his nostrils flaring. He's got the face of a man who has something to prove.

One side steps easily around whatever attack Jo tries, never going on the offensive, never breaking a sweat like he's merely humoring a child.

Jo's breaths grow heavier. "This is getting boring. Fight me."

But the crowd isn't bored, not in the least. Even the hard planes of Two's chest aren't enough to keep a pair of eyes away from One. The hunter is effortlessly charismatic as he evades Jo's attacks.

One veers off Jo's path once more and snickers unkindly. I'd originally thought his plan was to tire out his opponent, but I know better now.

He wants to humiliate him.

My eyes narrow. One is clearly planning something, and when Jo moves to kick his stomach, the dark Fae's edges blur with shadows. He catches his opponent's foot mid-air, and a sickening crack raises all my hairs to attention.

The leaves of the Hawthorn bristle at the sound, and Jo cries out, his yelp quickly melting into a low, manly grunt as he falls to the ground, his broken leg twisted at his side.

One faces the frozen crowd. Lori holds a hand to her opened mouth, and anger licks my insides. I'm gripped by a knee-jerk need to defend the poor man on the ground, but before I can move, One's loud voice resonates through the branches.

"Joseph here might have slayed a legendary nightmare, but he lost one of us in the process." He spins around to face the wounded hunter. "Your orders were to wait for me."

"Death is part of the game! Sacrifices need to be made!" Jo shouts, his pain obvious. Sweat pearls on his forehead, and shivers rock his body as he manages to stand up, his face wrinkled in a bitter grimace.

The sight of him scrambling for balance on one leg draws gasps from the crowd.

One tilts his chin up, every inch he has over his opponent magnified. "Do not pretend to teach me about sacrifices. If you had waited like you were supposed to, Drake would be here with us. I will lead the next hunt."

Jo grits his teeth and motions to his broken leg. "That fracture will take weeks to mend."

"You should have considered that before you sent our best healer to his death."

"I'm no good to the king without a leg," Jo spits.

One angles his mask to me for a brief second. "Lucky for you, one of the new seeds is already a skilled healer, so you can get that fixed. Tomorrow."

The Fae rushes past me, and I hold out an arm to stop him, still reeling from the violence of the blow. "I could do it now."

The tired hunch of his back unravels my anger, the dark knight clearly not enjoying himself—or the pain he caused to his underling.

He pauses at my side, and I think he's going to bite my head off for my offer, but the tension in his spine eases. He leans close enough for Lori's brows to lift in alarm, and his breath warms my ear. "Don't. He needs the lesson."