Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

L ucia didn’t really need the coin she would win from the fight, but any bit of gold she could get could one day make a difference. She was not like Alaric, who had been born in a noble, wealthy family and could spare all the gold in the world. She had no one else to rely on but herself, and if she could gain something from this fight, then she wouldn’t turn down the opportunity.

Alaric, of course, was quick to follow her and grab her arm, bringing her to a sudden halt. Lucia took a deep breath to steady herself and then turned to face him, yanking her arm out of his grip and taking a step back.

“If ye wish tae tell me tae nae fight, then save yer breath,” she said. “Ye willnae change me mind.”

“It is hardly proper fer a lady tae fight,” Alaric said. “That is somethin’ only brutes dae. I wouldnae even take part in this fight.”

“Well, I’m nay lady,” Lucia pointed out. “An’ I couldnae care less about what ye think is proper.”

Just as she made to leave, Alaric grabbed her once more, fingers circling her wrist. “Then at least consider yer well-bein’. Ye made me promise I’d help ye an’ now ye wish tae put yerself in danger fer nae good reason?”

“I willnae be in danger,” Lucia said, trying to remain patient with Alaric. For once, she wished a man would listen to her when she assured him she would be just fine. “Dinnae fash.”

“Ye truly wish tae fight those men?” Alaric asked, pointing at the two in the middle of the circle of bodies. “Dae ye truly think ye could best them in a fight?”

Lucia glanced over her shoulder at them, eyes narrowing. Both men were large, but not overwhelmingly so—smaller than Alaric, in fact, both in height and width, though still larger than her. It was that which Alaric saw; their size compared to hers, which made him think she couldn’t handle them. What he didn’t see was the muscle Lucia packed under her clothes, the years she had spent fighting men just like them with her bare hands, the countless fights she had won in the past.

It was not a matter of size, but rather a matter of skill, and she was going to prove it to him. She wanted the satisfaction even more than she wanted the coin.

“Aye, o’ course I dae,” she said with a lopsided grin, giving Alaric a friendly punch on the shoulder that was perhaps a little harsher than necessary. She didn’t wait to see his reaction to it; only heard the half-muffled groan he made, just barely audible over the ruckus in the inn.

Stretching her arms over her head and rolling her shoulders, Lucia pushed her way to the front of the circle, where she could observe the two men. It didn’t matter who would win—she would rather fight the larger one only because he looked older, but either way, she was determined to win.

“How much fer one round?” she asked the man next to her.

“Depends on the bets, lassie,” said the man, regarding her with an amused smirk. “Why? Will ye fight?”

Lucia responded with only another grin, unbothered by the man’s comment. They all doubted her until they saw her fight, but once she had proven her skills, they were usually quick to show not only respect but also admiration.

It didn’t take long for the fight to come to an end. It was quick and brutal, the two men exchanging blow after blow until they were both bruised and bloody, red splattered over the floor of the tavern and those who stood closest to the pair. In the end, it was the older man who was defeated, the other younger and slighter, standing victorious as he stumbled off with the assistance of two friends.

“Who’s next?” the man asked, overtaken by the rush of his victory and grinning a bloody smile. Before anyone else could volunteer, Lucia stepped in, all but sauntering into the circle. When the man’s gaze fell on her, he laughed, eyebrows rising up to his hairline as if he could hardly believe his own eyes. “Ye?”

“Aye,” said Lucia as she rolled the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows slowly, pacing around the circle. The entire time, the man stayed still in the middle of it, but craned his neck to watch her, until she finally stood where she had started. “Is there a problem?”

The man gave a small shrug, looking at the men around him, who seemed equally amused. “Ye seem like a sweet lassie. I wouldnae wish tae hurt ye.”

It was Lucia’s turn to shrug. “Dinnae hurt me, then.”

“Are ye askin’ me tae treat ye gently?”

“If ye so wish.”

“Ach… well, ye see, I need the coin,” said the man. “But I dinnae wish tae hurt a bonnie lass like ye. How about this… once I carry ye out o’ the circle, it’s over.”

“Fine,” said Lucia, giving the man the sweetest smile she could muster—the same one that always worked on the men she tried to trick. “I accept yer rule.”

Lucia had hardly managed to finish her sentence before the man rushed toward her like a bull, feet stomping against the floor. Lucia was quick to get out of his path, though, jumping to the side and rounding him with ease before the man even had the chance to stop his momentum. The only thing that stopped him was the ring of people, who pushed him back into the circle with a collective huff.

Lucia could see Alaric at the rear, standing there, watching her like a hawk.

Good. Let him watch an’ see what I can dae.

Her opponent, now righting himself, huffed out a quiet laugh as he came to stand before her, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he observed her. Lucia remained still, light on her feet, watching him right back.

“Well, ye’re quick,” he said. “But fer how long can ye run from me?”

Lucia wanted to point out that she wouldn’t have to run from him if he fought her instead of trying to catch her in the hopes of dealing less damage, but that would only fall on deaf ears. Instead, she only raised her hands, keeping her fists lax, and waited for him to make his next move.

The man approached her from the right only to feint to the left at the last minute. Lucia was ready for him, though, her fist swiftly connecting with the man’s cheek. It was a strong blow, one meant to deal plenty of damage, and the force of it reverberated up her arm as the man stumbled backwards, eyes wide with shock at being hit like that. Then his shock quickly morphed into anger, the first signs of it showing on his face, which turned a deep shade of red.

A gasp echoed around them, the people observing just as shocked as the man Lucia was fighting. Murmurs followed, soft and indistinguishable, but Lucia paid them no mind. There was nothing but the man in front of her, now worked up and embarrassed, charging at her once more.

This time, he didn’t try to grab her. Instead, a fist flew towards her face and Lucia was quick to duck, avoiding the blow. Once again, the man’s momentum pushed him forward, forcing him to stumble, and Lucia followed him, planting a kick to the small of his back.

He had no choice but to fall, barely catching himself on his hands. Lucia could end it there and then, she knew. She could deliver one final blow, hard enough to make him lose consciousness, or wrap her arm around his neck until he yielded, but she did neither of those things. Instead, she took a few steps back and waited for the man to stand again, drawing out the fight.

She reveled in the thrill of it. It had been a long time since she had last been in a fight like this and now the rush of it was too good to end it so soon. A fight was the only thing that could clear her mind like this, allowing her to push all other thoughts away—all her grief, all her pain, all her anger—and focus on one thing: victory.

Alaric tried to keep himself composed, hiding his shock behind a facade—but one that would easily crumble, he knew, under the slightest of pressures. As he watched Lucia fight, there was only one thought in his mind: she was enjoying it.

There was no doubt about it. He wasn’t sure whether she even knew she was grinning as she fought that poor man, who had stepped into the rink expecting an easy fight and to be victorious by the end of it. It pleased her to be fighting him. It even pleased her to toy with him, it seemed, as she allowed him to stand and resume the fight when it was clear she could have ended it quickly and more or less painlessly for him.

Alaric watched as the man approached her once more, this time wary and careful of his movements. Gone was the casual way he sauntered around the circle, confident and preening before he had even won. In his eyes, Alaric could have sworn he could detect a hint of fear.

The man’s next attack caught Lucia at the jaw and for a moment, Alaric’s heart stopped. Her head whipped to the side from the force of the blow, blood spraying out of her mouth, but she hardly stumbled, her feet planted firmly on the ground. It was then that she looked more bloodthirsty than ever. Spitting the blood that pooled in her mouth, she turned her head slowly to face the man and grabbed him by the shirt with such furious speed that he could do nothing to protect himself from the series of punches that followed.

After three, he was limp in her grip, swaying uselessly from side to side.

Lucia was about to deal another punch, but then stopped herself and regarded the man for a few moments. When it was clear to everyone that he wasn’t going to retaliate, she let go of him and the man fell in a heap on the floor, barely twitching.

Everyone around them was silent. Even as Lucia pushed her way past the crowd, the men parting for her with ease, no one spoke. They all only stared at her as she extended her hand before the man who seemed to be the leader of the entire operation, silently demanding her coin.

With some reluctance, the man placed a small, clinking pouch into her open palm. With a smile, Lucia pocketed it and then approached Alaric, who was still staring with the most neutral expression he could muster.

“Well?” she asked. “Dae ye believe me now?”

I dinnae ken what tae believe.

Around them, people were still staring and Alaric didn’t like that at all, especially with the way Lucia had been scanning the room earlier. Even if she hadn’t found a threat among the men, Alaric still considered it wise to pull her away from the crowd, back to their table. Everyone could still see them, of course, but at least it was a little more private, away from the fighting rink, and soon enough, the men’s attention went back to the next two fighters, though the show couldn’t possibly be as exciting as the last one.

“Why dae ye need me?” Alaric asked, tapping his foot against the ground nervously once he had taken his seat. Across from him, Lucia gave him a bloody smile, a hand coming up to wipe her mouth clean.

“I told ye,” she said. “I need tae infiltrate the Ravencloaks.”

“Aye, but ye seem more than capable on yer own,” Alaric pointed out. “Ye proved yer point. Ye can fight an’ ye can fight well. Better than most men, in fact. So why dae ye need me tae help ye?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Lucia grabbed her mug of ale only to find it empty. Then, she reached for Alaric’s and drained the rest of it, looking at him over the rim of the mug.

Once she was done, she said, “Because they will never allow a lass tae enter their ranks alone. If I have ye, then they may be more inclined tae let me prove me worth.”

O’ course… she only needs me as a pawn.

“There are better ways tae dae this,” Alaric said. Surely, infiltrating the ranks of a dangerous gang was one of the worst ways to get what she wanted. “Ye said ye want justice. If I speak tae me braither?—”

“We have nae evidence they killed him,” Lucia said before Alaric could finish his suggestion. “Who will believe us? Nae one. All I have is me word against theirs.”

“But everyone kens what they are,” Alaric reminded her. No one would doubt Lucia when it was known the Ravencloaks were nothing but criminals. “The men who killed yer braither are brigands. Nay one will think o’ them as innocent.”

“The man responsible fer me braither’s death isnae some lowly brigand,” Lucia said. “An’ if it is me word against his, then… then I dinnae ken if anyone will believe me.”

“Who is it?” Alaric asked, but Lucia didn’t respond. She only averted her gaze, glancing over his shoulder at the new fight.

After a while, it became evident to Alaric that she would not respond at all. Instead of trying to force her, Alaric began to write his letter to his brother, telling him—just like Lucia had told him—that it would probably be a while until he could return home.