When We Were Kings (The Wolf of Oberhame Book 1)

by Auryn Hadley

  "You're so bad."

  She tapped his chest. "I think you like it."

  "I've never shod a horse in my life." His tone had changed; the sadness was closer. "Never handled one, certainly never ridden one. I made nails and brackets, mostly. I was a very poor man, Ley."

  "Only a fool judges someone by their money." She looked up and brushed back his hair. "It doesn't matter, Tristan. You'll be a great blacksmith, if that's what you want. Or a better Captain."

  "I'm a very bad blacksmith. Never should have tried, couldn't make any money at it, but the farm was my little brother's dream. I'd be a better soldier but need a reference to get into the King's army."

  She nodded. "Then for your two hundred and fiftieth victory present, I'll give you the name of someone who owes me a favor."

  His chest rose and fell as he breathed, thinking over that. The silence was heavy, but when he spoke again, his voice was soft. "You aren't supposed to be here."

  "No," she agreed. "But politics is a messy business." It was the closest she'd ever come to telling him about her past.

  ***

  Neither of them made a fuss over her injury, and Merino didn't ask. For another week, she babied it. The week after that, she ignored it. Then they fought again. Thankfully, they won.

  Life became a schedule of combat and training. Leyli's muscles grew more and ached less. Her skill increased, and she started sparing against Tristan instead of always with him. Almost every week, they fought in the games. Leyli chained to the Lion, and then he fought solo the next day. At two hundred and ten victories, they celebrated. At two hundred and fifteen, they planned. At two hundred and twenty, Merino decided she was ready to make him more money.

  It was two days before her first solo fight when Tristan started to push her. She stood across from him, her wooden weapons raised, and he battered her hard, yelling as if it were true combat. She tried to block, but he was just too strong. She tried to evade, but his arms were longer. Then he rushed her, knocking the sword from her hand.

  Leyli grabbed the back of his head, wrenching it to the side to break his aim, and dropped. He crashed down on her, the air ripped from her lungs, but somehow she managed to disarm him. When he reared back to punch, she flinched instinctually, squeezing her eyes closed. Everything stopped.

  "Ley," he panted. "Don't do that."

  "Sorry." She forced her eyes open.

  With a groan, he dropped a hand beside her head and leaned on it, hovering over her body. Both of them gasped for air, trying to recover from the workout. Slowly, Tristan shook his head, struggling for enough breath to speak.

  "It doesn't hurt less with your eyes closed. It is harder to block."

  "I've never been punched."

  He huffed out a laugh. "Well, I'd rather not be the first to do it. Hurts."

  "So how do I get away?"

  He held a finger before her face and took a deep breath, then another. "You're little and hard to hold onto. Use that."

  "Show me."

  His eyes hit hers, then he grinned. Without a word, his free hand grabbed her thigh, pulling her knee up between them. Leyli was already breathing hard, but that made her gasp. The position was rather intimate, and the bastard knew it. His smile only grew. Then he moved his hand down, sliding gently until he reached her calf. He placed her foot on his hip. The whole time, he never looked away from her eyes.

  "I think you're a natural at this," he teased.

  She shoved, pushing his body away, but he rolled with it. "Not quite that easy." Then he laughed. "You're gonna need to use your hands, too." He tapped his bare chest, indicating where she should push. "Kick and shove at the same time, and use the force to push you away, not him."

  "Or you, as the case may be." She nodded, thinking it through, then tried.

  His body heaved up enough that the punch wouldn't land. The force also pushed her against the grass, sliding her free. If she added a hit to his face, it would be enough for her to get to her feet. She staggered back to standing, dusted off her hands, and gestured to him.

  "Again?"

  "I'm going to try to hit you this time," he warned.

  She just nodded, knowing it was the only way to learn. A punch in practice was better than a sword in the arena. Leyli braced for the worst.

  Tristan slammed into her hard, knocking her to the ground, and she shoved, swiping at his face. He missed his first punch, and she almost got free. His second landed, catching her right in the throat. She kicked out – and hit something soft. Above her, the Lion gasped.

  "Shit, that works." He flopped on his back, grabbing at his crotch. "Oh shit, that was hard."

  "I'm sorry!" She rushed to his side. "Tristan!"

  He tried to laugh, but pulled his knees higher. "I think you broke my dick."

  "Oh gods," She glanced down to his crotch, her hand hovering helplessly over his groin. "Is it bad?"

  Then he started to laugh, slowly stretching out his legs. "You've never kicked a man in the balls before?"

  "No!"

  That made him laugh harder. Without shame, he rubbed at his nuts, shifting them back into place, then moaned and flopped into the grass. "Pecker and balls, Ley. Hit either, and it hurts a lot. Usually enough to distract us. Damn, I hope that doesn't bruise."

  "I'm sorry," she said again.

  He just nodded. "I got that. Sorry about the neck. That will bruise." Then he grabbed her arm, pulling her down against his chest. "New plan. Man gets you on the ground, kick him in the balls as hard as you can. Your short little legs can reach. Knee, shin, doesn't matter, just hit the jewels."

  "I can do that."

  "I noticed," he teased. "Should make you kiss it to make it better."

  "Eww!"

  He turned to look at her, then lifted a brow. "It's not bad, pup. Works both ways, too."

  "What?"

  "Little tongue between your legs, little tongue between mine? Yeah, it's one of those things – " he lowered his voice " – that married people do."

  "Sounds disgusting."

  He shrugged. "Feels worth it. Then again, I can't even imagine some lord getting his dick sucked by a lady."

  "I thought that was a euphemism." She rolled over to see his face better, just to find him grinning at her.

  Tristan shook his head. "Nope. Although, it's a gentle suck, not like you're trying to pull it off."

  "Why are you telling me this?" She slapped at his chest.

  He caught her wrist. "Tell your future husband he can thank the Lion of Lenlochlien for the knowledge." Then he rolled over her and grabbed her ribs, his fingers tormenting her with tickles. "Payback, bitch."

  "No!" she squealed, trying to pull away. "Tristan, don't. Not fair!"

  He kept going until she heaved him off, just like he'd meant to show her before. It didn't stop the smiles. Her throat was sore and probably red, he moved stiffly, but these had become the little moments that she treasured. For the first time in her life, Leyli understood what it really meant to have a friend who liked her just because of who she was, not her father's name. She couldn't imagine life without Tristan at her side. She wasn't sure she could take it.

  Chapter 15

  Merino kept saying that her first solo fight should be an easy one. He made a point of telling everyone how he'd set up a match that Leyli couldn't lose. That was her first warning. He was too insistent and much too jovial about how it would be little more than a warm-up for her tandem fight with the Lion. From Leyli's count, she'd probably come close to earning the man enough to cover her costs, if he'd been betting on his own team instead of against them. That meant she'd become a liability.

  When the cart pulled up behind the arena, it was early. The crowd was still working their way in, the hum of their voices sounding like a nest of bees. As soon as the cart was unlocked, Merino's team made their way out, Tristan and Leyli waiting until the rest were gone before moving. Then he went first, turning to lift her down like a perfect gentleman. In the distance, someone
called out, and she was sure it was their names. They'd become celebrities, in their own way.

  Or as Tristan liked to call it, kings of the arena.

  "Ok," Merino said, gesturing for them to head in. "The Wolf is the second fight. After that, they'll start the debtors, and your tandem match will be the closing event for tonight."

  Tristan dropped his arm over her shoulder as they walked. "We going after dark?"

  Merino made an affirmative noise. "You two made the banners, so the arena is making the most of it."

  "Which means I need to stretch," Leyli reminded her partner, then looked over at her owner. "Who am I fighting?"

  The corner of his lip twisted slightly. "Man called Grub. He's got eighteen wins."

  "Volunteer or debtor?" Tristan asked.

  They made it a few steps too many before Merino answered. "Criminal."

  Tristan grunted, but Leyli felt her guts tense. Criminals didn't often win the chance to move ahead in the games. Their first fight was stacked against them. If he was still going, that meant he'd killed the gladiator who'd been assigned to cut them all down. He'd managed to beat a fully armed man with just his bare hands. The fear began to set in, tingling over her skin.

  "Don't bet against me," she warned.

  Only then did she look over. Merino was a sly man. He only thought of her as inventory that could make him rich. He also wanted to get rid of the Lion. If she fought before their contracted tandem fight and lost, that meant Tristan would be forced to take another partner. He wouldn't get an option – not that they had much, normally.

  Merino was waiting. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. "You make it sound like I'd risk my best team, Wolf. Have a little faith." His voice was sticky from the sugar he'd poured on.

  She just shook her head and kept going. Inside the dungeon that held their cells, they were directed to one of the larger chambers, then locked in together. Without a word, Tristan moved to the bed, giving her full use of the floor space. Leyli just sat and started stretching. She didn't have much time. She needed to be as ready as possible.

  "Tell me what to expect," she begged.

  "You're going out with a short sword and shield, because that's all you know." He pulled his feet up, out of the way, but his eyes were serious. "I've never heard of this guy, but it's not good."

  She leaned farther, feeling her back stretch after the long ride. "Already figured that out. I go on the sands, then what? Tell me step by step what I'll see."

  "First, the gate." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Soon as it lifts, you'll go in, and the crowd will be so loud. They'll announce you, and that's your first hint. If the people chant your name, then you're the favorite. If his? Fight hard." He took a long breath, and she wondered if he was silently praying. "He has more wins, so will come out last. Sounds like an open fight, which means you have room to work. If it's king of the hill, you have to step on the hill before they'll let you out, to claim it."

  "Right, already knew that."

  He nodded, but still wouldn't open his eyes. "You'll see his armor. If he's good, his owner will have spent some money. If he's a cheap thrill, it'll be barely enough. Big guys like me are slow. Lean ones are fast. Arm guard is always on the main hand, and left-handers are a bitch. I should have trained you to face one. It's nothing like -"

  She cut him off before he could panic. "I'll be ok."

  "Yeah." He sighed, then rubbed at his face. "Yeah. Ok. They'll give you both enough time to posture, because the crowd loves that. Be careful what you let him see. He'll be judging you, pup, looking for a weakness. As soon as the gong sounds, it's just like any fight."

  A sudden roar from the crowd above let them know that the games were starting. Leyli pulled herself to her feet and bent over. First, straight down, then she leaned to each side. The whole time, she kept her eyes on her partner.

  "I am the Wolf of Oberhame. I cannot be defeated." She changed positions one more time. "And I'm going to be a very good little left hand for you."

  He clenched his jaw, then stepped off the bed. "Just win. If you get hurt, I'll cover you tonight. Don't worry about any of that. Just win, pup." Then he crushed her against his chest, not even caring that her arms were twisted between them. "Just don't die."

  "Not today." She pressed her head to his chest, but pulled away. "And stop acting like the bitch. That's my job."

  "Yeah..."

  The door rattled. "Wolf!" She turned, not shocked at all to find an arena guard unlocking the cell. "You're up."

  Leyli tossed a smile back at Tristan and headed out. "What's the game?"

  "Open match. Just you and your opponent."

  Behind her, Tristan chuckled. She was acting like a veteran, mimicking him, and he knew it. As the guard led her down the hall, she dared to glance back. Her partner stood at the bars, his hands twined through the metal, but he was smiling.

  "Good fight, Wolf," he called.

  She just nodded and kept going. He wouldn't wish her luck. In the games, that was never done, because one day it could be your downfall. That god was all too fickle, and no one wanted to have their life become his amusement. Not many gods took an interest in mortals, unless it was to vent their anger. But there was one that came to mind.

  As she picked out a set of weapons, she thought a prayer to the only god who fit: Darkness. He sheltered secrets, hid those in need, and obscured that which shouldn't be seen. She needed all of that, and so much more. Fighting wasn't his thing, but living meant she could stay hidden and protect the nation. She hoped it would be enough, because right about now, she could really use a little divine intervention.

  All too soon, she was standing at the gate. Leyli looked out at the sands, feeling her eyes water at the bright sunlight. She'd been in the cells for at least an hour, and her eyes didn't like the light. If she could force them to adjust, it was just one more advantage. Any advantage could save her life, but her best one was being smarter. She was a gladiator. She could do this.

  Then the portcullis began to rise.

  Like she had so many times before, Leyli ran onto the sands. This time, however, was the first time she'd done it alone. Her debtor fights didn't really count. She hadn't run back then. She'd barely done more than crawl, too terrified of what came next. Now, she knew. She would kill a man today. She was going to hate it, and his eyes would be added to the long list etched forever in her mind, but she had to win. She couldn't worry about what Grub thought. Not if she wanted to take care of Tristan.

  When she was a princess, her job had been to take care of her men with subtle gestures, open ears, and plentiful heirs. That was then. Now, she did it with a sword, a quick mind, and an agile body. She'd learned. Tristan had made sure of that. She could beat most of the fighters Merino owned, except her partner. Even him, she could take about one out of every three matches, because he'd taught her the one secret most men didn't want to admit. She was a woman.

  Her pain tolerance was higher, her body was a smaller target, and she wasn't a man. She didn't move like one, she didn't react like one, and she certainly wouldn't think like one. No, she was a female gladiator, and even her partner was scared to face one. Grub didn't stand a chance.

  From across the sands, he entered the arena, stopping only a few feet in. That's when the announcer began speaking. She could barely make out what he said, but when he called her name, it was clear. Leyli lifted her arms. Her sword was held in the same hand as her shield, and she turned, basking in the cheers of the crowd. She hated them for it, but they didn't need to know that. Right now, she just had to look confident and strong. In her chest, her heart began to pound.

  Then the crowd heard the name of her opponent. Just like her, he accepted the crowd's attention. Unlike her, the people in the stands didn't cheer. They hissed and booed. He'd been a criminal, but she had no idea what he'd done. Petty theft, murder, it didn't matter. Right now, the two of them were equals. He was big enough to be strong, lean enough to be agile, and dressed well enough
that his owner expected him to fight again.

  That's when the crash of the gong sounded.

  Leyli waited. She didn't run at him. Oh no, she wasn't that foolish. She also didn't hunker down. She just stood there, with her eyes on her opponent, and gestured for him to come get her. The bastard was happy to comply.

  With his shield up, Grub moved in. His feet shuffled, never moving far from the safety of his shield. His sword was over his shoulder, his arm behind the metal like he wasn't willing to take a single risk. The Wolf nodded, reading so much from just the way he moved, and began to walk to the side. She was relaxed. He was out of reach, but she was still testing him.

  This was what Tristan had taught her. On the sands, it was all a show. The crowd wanted to see her either cower or act so brave that they felt ashamed of their own fears. She wasn't strong enough to let her opponent get arrogant, but she knew how to be regal. She knew how to convince this man that she was his better, because she already was.

  Five paces away, he screamed and charged. Her side was to him and her face was looking at the stands, but he didn't catch her off guard. Oh no, as soon as he got close, she swung her shield, using the weight to hit harder, and smashed his head just over the lip of his own treasured protection. Grub stumbled and it was on.

  A snarl broke from her throat as she swung the sword, hammering the metal of his shield until it rang like a bell. Over and over, she kept pushing, forcing him back. She was the Wolf. She was the one who deserved this victory, not some criminal devious enough to hack down a gladiator. It was her, not him who would walk off these sands, and she put every ounce of strength she had into making sure that happened.

  He couldn't get a shot in. Each time he tried, she used her shield as a club, without showing enough of her body to give him a target. Their weapons might be the same, but their bodies weren't. The same disk that covered his torso did so much more for her. From her nose to nearly her knees, not much of her was open to attack, and that was what he hadn't expected. That was why she'd kept her shield down until he was committed. This bastard thought being small would be her undoing, but he was so wrong. It just meant that there was less of her to hack apart.