Page 5 of The Eye of the Fifth
Cocking her head to one side and no doubt surveying the fresh bruises on Kyra’s face, Rosary said, ‘You look awful.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It was a good fight though.’
‘Too long,’ Kyra complained. ‘I would have finished it far sooner if Lilion didn’t keep telling me to drag it out. I don’t see what difference it makes; she makes her coin all the same.’
Nostalgically, Rosary said, ‘I remember a skinny little girl who couldn’t bear to even fight, let alone kill.’
Kyra remembered her too, remembered the crippling fear of those first few fights, all too well. ‘That girl has been dead for a long time.’
‘I know. But I still remember her.’
Rosary was not the sort of friend Kyra’s grandmother would have approved of. She was human, for one. But she was also reckless and innately cunning with a slight hand and a complete disregard for anyone of nobility or authority. All things that Kyra had overlooked without a second thought, for who was she to judge?
To Rosary, Kyra’s fae heritage had never been an issue. Not the arch of her ears, the prominent fae features of her brown face, the piercing green eyes that saw too much. Rosary witnessed it all, and yet never condemned her for it. And in turn, Kyra witnessed in Rosary what humanity could be. What it truly ought to be.
That spark of friendship at sixteen years old had rendered her terse relationship with her family null and void. With Rosary by her side, with Rosary cheering her from the stalls of the pits at every single fight, she needed no one else.
And she knew that Rosary needed her just as much. It was them against the world.
Regardless, the woman was as irritating as a sibling. ‘Are you going to let me rest?’ Kyra demanded.
‘You’re fae, you don’t need rest,’ Rosary said, softly prodding Kyra’s face with her forefinger. ‘See, already healed. Move over.’
Groaning again, Kyra pushed herself up to make room, then said, ‘Out with it, then.’
Rosary glanced at her. ‘How did you-’
‘You never come down here. It must be important.’ Rosary’s notoriety for picking up rumours and news, eavesdropping private conversations wherever she could certainly kept things interesting.
‘It is.’
‘Do I need more wine?’
‘Always.’
Kyra waved a lazy hand. ‘I can’t be bothered to move.’
‘I’ll get it in a minute,’ Rosary said, suddenly serious. ‘Has Lilion said anything to you about tomorrow’s fight?’
‘No. I don’t find out who I’m fighting until I’m in the pits.’ She frowned. ‘You know that.’
‘I know. I just… I heard some patrons talking today. About the fight tomorrow.Whoyou’ll be fighting. They seem to think it will be another fae. A fae male.’
Kyra scoffed. ‘Bullshit. It’s just speculation.’
Rosary remained sombre. ‘It didn’t sound like it.’
‘Who, then?’
An answering scowl. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I heard.’
‘Trust me, I’m the only fae in Vrethian stupid enough to wind up in Avaldale’s fighting pits.’
‘I thought it might be your brother.’
The words almost cut the breath from Kyra’s lungs. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘He’s gone. Dead probably.’
