22: Don’t Pull Your Punches

CORDELIA

The sun was already hot on my neck, even though it was not yet noon. I stood on the outskirts of one of the sparring rings and watched as a fae male pinned his opponent to the ground and delivered his knee with force to the other fae’s gut. His opponent was a huge beast of a fae, even taller than Vasileios. The air explodes from his opponent’s mouth with a “guff,” He tapped the dirt quickly, submitting his loss. The sinewy victor smiled at his opponent, grabbing his hand and pulling him to standing.

“Great job Evander! We can work on some defensive techniques tomorrow. You’re almost there!” He smiled broadly and patted the loser on his back.

“I’d like that, Alasdair.” He winced slightly and rubbed the sore spot on his stomach. “I’ll do my best to steer clear of your knee until then, my friend.” Alasdair’s smile softened slightly as if he was sorry to have caused him pain.

“You’ll be able to block it better next time.” Alasdair ran his hands over his closely-cropped black hair awkwardly as the loser hobbled over to the bench, swigging water from a water skin. Something about that fight invigorated me in ways I didn’t understand. I could see where they had made errors and wanted nothing more than to set foot in the ring—I knew I could win. Alasdair turned to the bench of recruits opposite us, his bare back towards me glistening with sweat and dirt. “Alright, who’s up next?” He asked. Some of the fae visibly winced, one held their bruised arm and looked down towards the ground—avoiding his eye contact. A pained groan escaped a mouth somewhere amongst their ranks. Eager to spar with him, they were not. I cleared my throat.

“I’m up for it,” I said confidently. Nelo looked at me, surprised, but didn’t put up any protest to my request. I think she liked it when I spiced up her everyday routine. Alasdair slowly turned his head towards me, eyebrow cocked. He must not have seen me before, recognition flashed across his grey eyes, and he dropped into a deep bow.

“Lady Oscuro—“ He gracefully brought his body back to standing. “I’m not sure that it’s quite proper for you—“ I cut him off. What was this bullshit? Wasn’t I just a human? Why this formality? Weren’t the fae supposed to look down on my kind?  How did he even know who I was?

“As far as I know, I was told I can do what I please here.” I crossed my arms with an indignant pout. He tried not to crack a smile. I looked at Nelo for approval, who just shrugged and made her way towards one of the benches. She had already settled in to watch the show.

“I’m not sure your attire works for sparring, though?” He questioned and gestured to the ornate gown I wore. He did have a point. I looked at all the recruits; male and female fae wore the same uniform, leather breeches cropped to the knee. Some fae were bare-chested, like Alasdair, but most wore a simple white tunic. I gestured towards them.

“Have any more of those uniforms?”

✳✴✳

I stepped into the chalk circle, now in my sparring gear. While the gowns Nelo made me were all comfortable, these breeches were freeing in the movement they allowed me. Alasdair stood in front of me, assessing me with a curious grin.

“So, when we start the fight, I want you to mind your head, keep your hands up.” I scoffed and gave him a skeptical look.

“Just start. Promise I’ll keep up.” He cocked his brow to me but set his stance. I smiled, putting my feet in the correct position. I had done this before, and I would let my instincts guide me. I couldn’t find the memories associated with it, but I knew I could trust my instincts. I raised my hands to protect my head. A furrowed, roguish look kept over his face as he saw I might actually know what I was doing. I heard someone yell for us to start outside the ring, but my focus remained entirely inside this white chalk circle. Alasdair took one of his long arms and faked a punch, obviously not intending to actually make contact, to the left side of my head. I dodged the pretend blow easily. I’ll show you that you don’t need to pull your punches. I thought. Alasdair huffed in approval at my movement, and he might have been moving to congratulate me as I made my own move. The fae was much taller than me, but I used it to my advantage. I slipped quickly into position, close to the front of his body, pushing with my hips to make the force of my punch all the more powerful. My fist made contact with the underside of his square jaw. The crack stung my knuckles, but I knew the pain that radiated through Alasdair’s jaw was worth any stinging in my own hands. It was a solid hit. The fae stumbled back, falling into the dirt, landing on his ass in a daze. He looked towards me, spitting foamy pink blood from his mouth. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. He widened his eyes as I set my stance again. “Gonna stay down there all day?” I asked. I heard a hoot from one of the other recruits.

“I can see that I’ve underestimated you, my lady.” He said, matter-of-factly. There wasn’t malice in his voice, just honest surprise. I liked the assessing glance he gave me. Maybe he viewed me as his equal. The thought puffed out my chest in pride.

“Let’s go.” I told him as he lifted his lanky frame from the dirt and set himself quickly to begin the fight again. I could tell he was ready to actually spar now.

“Ready whenever you are.” He said pulling his fists back up to his face. I faked left, and as he moved to meet me, I swiveled to the right and got another punch in on his chest. This one didn’t take him off guard as my first hit did. He grabbed my fist and, using his bicep, secured it against his chest. With my free arm trapped, he pulled me tightly into him and swept my legs out with a quick kick against the back of my knee. My body hit the dirt harder than I expected, throwing me off guard. I tried to angle my hips in a way where I might be able to spring back to my feet. Alasdair’s knee pinned my hip to the dirt—He grabbed my fist with his hand and held them above my head as I squirmed to escape the lock of his body, but he knew what he was doing. I had lost the match.

“Get off of her!” I heard from outside the ring. Orthus usually calm voice strained. Alasdair looked toward the king and immediately released me.  Orthus took my hand, raised me from the ground, and brushed some of the dirt off my back. “If you want to train, we can find more suitable sparring partners for you.” He eyed Alasdair with ill intent. Alasdair dipped into the lowest bow I had ever seen, his forehead nearly hit the dirt.

“No, Orthus, it’s fine. I made him fight me. I wanted to spar. I think I know what I’m doing here.” The king looked toward me and shook his head.

“I’ll get you the best trainer in Aidor if that’s what you want.” He gestured to the bowing fae, “This isn’t it.” Alasdair looked up towards the king, his voice cracking slightly.

“With all due respect, your highness, I am the best in the barracks.” Orthus turned his head slowly toward the young fae, sneering.

“Are you now?” A vein in his neck bulged. “Cordelia, leave us.” He motioned for me to exit the ring, and I abided- I was as ever under his power. Something wild sparked behind his eyes as he shrugged off his shirt and threw it out of the ring. Alasdair’s face expressed that he knew had made a grave error in being boastful in front of this king of Summer. All the same, he slowly squared to the king, preparing to fight. As soon as the match started, I knew Alasdair was doomed to lose. The pale king immediately connected his huge fist with the side of the smaller fae’s face. It was a brutal and instant knockout. Alasdair’s body slumped into the dirt, and the king walked from the ring without acknowledging his victory. He nodded to me.

“I’ll see you shortly.” He said, throwing me a heated glance. He was pure power, and I couldn’t help but be drawn in. All the recruits and I were in awe of him, but I think I wanted him more than anyone at that moment. Even though he had cut my fighting short, I was consumed by thoughts of him. He entered the estate, leaving me wanting. Nelo rose from her seat, possibly the only one unaffected by the king’s presence.

“Well, I guess you’re not sparring anymore today. Let’s find something else to hold our attention, shall we?” She followed the path Orthus took back into the estate, she kept speaking, but my attention drifted towards Alasdair as he roused from his blackout. I walked towards him, extending my hand. He didn’t take it and right himself of his own accord.

“I’m sorry,” I told him honestly. No matter how much I burned for Orthus because of our bond—I would never want someone to be punished for helping me. He scoffed sweetly.

“Don’t worry about it; you’re better than I gave you credit for.” His jaw was purple where the king made contact with it, he winced as he rubbed it. “But let’s not do this again, shall we?” His tone was pleasant, but my stomach dropped. Fighting might be the only thing that had truly made me feel like…me? This must have been important before I arrived here in Aidor. I nodded and turned back to follow Nelo. At my feet lay the king’s discarded shirt. I hesitated only for a second before shoving it into the pockets of my breeches and jogging slightly to keep pace with my friend. The king’s scent wafted up from his shirt and permeated my nostrils. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could withhold myself from what this bond wanted. His shirt was turning me feral—There was no hope for me at this point, I would give in.