Page 19 of The Enemy to the Living
“Of course he did,” Celyn says, waving Sorrel off. He lifts his head when the troll in the cage lands a glancing blow, but then rests it on his hand again when the selkie gets the upper hand. Has he placed a bet? I’ve never seen either of the twins do that, and I don’t know why they would—they’re the ones making all the money here, after all.
“We were wondering whether your last fight should even count,” Sorrel continues, “being as it was interrupted by those two—”
He says a word I don’t understand, my ears going strange around it, like the pressure in the room has changed. Celyn looks over at him for the first time, brow furrowing.
“Sorrel.”
Sorrel shrugs. “I’m right.”
“Itwillcount,” Celyn says. “It is only fair.”
Relief floods me. I wouldn’t have argued had they said it didn’t; only if they wanted to count it as a forfeit and take my wolf. They can’t have him. I’m going to make it through all these fights.
“It will count,” Sorrel agrees. Does he look angry? I can hardly tell. “That is four done. Six to go.”
“Five, after tonight,” Celyn says, and Sorrel inclines his head in agreement.
I nod, too. Aside from giving me the news that the fights last night counted, I don’t really know why I’m here. Sorrel could have told me that in a text or not at all. I can guess from context.
“There is something else,” Sorrel says, and a heavy stone sinks in my stomach. The selkie has won this bout, her opponent being dragged from the cage. The crowd is loud tonight, almost angry.
“What is it?” I ask.
“We expect you are keeping everything here to yourself, no?” Celyn asks. Now that there is no fighting, his lazy gaze lands on me. “Not sharing it with any of your other wolves. Or hunters?”
A chill ripples down my spine as they both survey me, unblinking. I didn’t tell Asher anything. Do they know that? Clearly, they know that I’ve spoken to him, or at least that he let me go last night.
“N-no,” I say, dropping my eyes on instinct. They’re not wolves, but they’re powerful enough that I want to roll over and show my belly. “No, I haven’t told anyone.”
“Keep it that way,” Sorrel says, words sharp. “Things might not go so well for you should we have to move again, wolf.”
Celyn clicks his tongue against his teeth. Another fighter enters the cage. I don’t dare move.
“Well, go and get ready,” Sorrel says as the selkie begins to fight. “You’ll be up next.”
I don’t need telling twice. I scramble out of the booth as quickly as I can and then wind my way through the crowd and into the room set aside for fighters at the back of the pub.
Bryn is inside, sitting on one of the benches, along with a couple of fae who cast me wary looks before they turn back to what they’re doing. The troll looks to be psyching himself up. The other one—she has hooves instead of feet, but I don’t know what kind of fae she is—shadow boxes in the corner.
Bryn’s silent as I shrug off my jacket and hang it on one of the empty hooks. I push my hair back from my face, thinking idly that I should get it cut, actually, before I turn to face him.
“You all right?”
“Fine. You talked to them?”
“Yeah.” I dart a glance at the other fae, and Bryn nods.
“All good?”
“Yeah.”
I’ve never asked if he’s working the same deal as I am. Whether his wolf will be forfeit if he doesn’t attend a certain number of fights, orwina certain number of fights…
He’s never asked me. It doesn’t seem right.
“And you’re gonna win tonight?” The grin he gives me is wolfish, and he’s the first person all day I truly feel like smiling back at.
“Yeah, I’m gonna win.”
