Page 209 of Nine-Tenths

For me?

Or herself?

A roar reverberates through the room, and I tear my attention back to the dragons in the middle of it. They're both properly scaly now.

Red as blood, Dav slinks down into the pit, his tail lashing in an ever-twisting Celtic knot, sunflower eyes now the bright glowing yellow of acid, black talons scratching at stone. One step up, Simcoe hunches on the carpet like a shivering dachshund. He's cinnamon brown, serpentine, but less armored than Dav. He turns pleading eyes up to the queen and she shakes her head.

His request has been denied.

A low, rolling growl fills the room, rising like foam on the sea. Dav is impatient.

I wish I had another Favorite here to squeeze, the way the other humans are holding one another. I wish Laura weren't so far away.

This is because of me.

This is about to happen because of me.

And it hasnothingto do with me at all.

It's for Dav's pride, but it's also for his grief.

I want to stop the fight.

I can't stop it.

Please be okay,I think hard at Dav.Please don't get hurt for me.

I don't know what I'll do if you get hurt.

Simcoe uncurls, and steps tentatively down into the arena. Dav stops pacing. They both unfurl their wings, dip them at one another. Time stands still.

One… two… three…

Theyfight.

I hate to be stingy with my description of what happens next but first, I mostly read romances, okay? The fight scenes in those are usually a few shots fired in a field, or a few passes of a sword. I don't have the experience or language to describe it.

Secondly, it happensso fastthat I'm not even sure what I'm seeing.

Dav lunges. After that, it's a swirl of tails and wings. Talons sparking off of hard scales. Tails twined together, and suddenly Dav is doing some sort of roll wrapping around Simcoe,squeezing, choking. Simcoe snarls, fangs flash, and Dav roars in pain. He shakes Simcoe off. Blood drips freely from a wound under his arm.

"Dav!" I cry, and I'm not sure what I mean to do, what Icando, but before I move, a dragon appears at my side. They lay a restraining hand on my clothed shoulder.

They're dressed in some sort of uniform that includes gloves and I think,oh my god, they think I'm going to throw myself into the pit, and…

This is part of duels,I realize. There's one of the liveried dragons standing beside Laura, too.To keep the Favorites from interfering? Or from doing something stupid? Or is it to protect them from attack while their dragon is distracted?

Fear and disgust curdle in my guts. I despise that owning people is so codified that there's someoneassignedto keep me out of it. As if I was a fragile little bit of decorative spun sugar. As if I don't have a right to fight for the man I love, the way he's fighting for me.

Dav pulls himself to his feet, shakes to resettle his scales, and a thin spray of blood arcs across the pit. It splashes against the stone, hot enough to steam. Dav reorients himself, coils his tail behind him, eyes on his enemy. Only a twitch of his ear—oh, lord, his pretty soft ear istorn—in my direction betrays that he's heard me as I suck back a sob.

Simcoe licks my lover's blood off his chops.

"What…" I don't dare to turn away from the fight, but I have to know. I tilt my face up at the uniformed dragon at my side, eyes locked on Dav. "What happens to the Favorite of the losing dragon?"

"If they're lucky, age catches up with them, and they drift away," the guard replies.

"And if they're not lucky?" I ask shakily. Simcoe and Dav start pacing around one another in slow, serpentine circles.

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