Ten Years Later...

"Quinn! Quinn!"

I laughed as Adri called after me from below. She was running along the lower pre-wall of the castle, keeping pace easily, her leather soles tapping quietly in the night. I ran high above along the narrow stone ledge of the defensive fortress wall. I glanced down at Adri's shadowed figure before skipping into a handspring, the ledge was just wide enough to place my hands on the cool granite with my fingers curling over the edges. I picked up my running tempo as soon as my feet landed. "Oh dear gods, I will kill you myself!"

"You can't!" I laughed, "It's Balthazar's turn to try." Adri cackled back in the dark.

"You'll probably die from his stench before he even has a chance to lay a hand on you."

"No truer words ever spoken." We slipped into silence as we approached the twin gate towers where the guards would be lazily pacing among the defensive chambers. I watched Adri hop down from the pre-wall and disappear silently beneath the shadows of the forest while I picked up speed along the ledge. I refocused my attention on the gate tower, launching myself into the night. As soon as my hands and feet made contact with the cool stone surface of the tower, I bounced away, my body twisting, my eyes instinctively locked onto my landing spot on the edge of the lower pre-wall. My knees absorbed the shock and I bounced and twisted again, flipping away from the fortress and landing with a soft thud on the balls of my feet.

"Show off," Adri teased as she emerged from behind an oak tree.

"I only do it to make you laugh," I said, taking my bag off of my shoulders as Adri did the same. I undid the ties of at the front of my dress and pulled it over my head. I was already wearing my black lace-up breeches underneath, and I pulled a hooded black tunic and cloak out from my bag.

"Aside from Balthazar, who else is on the list for this evening?" Adri asked as she tied her cloak across her shoulders with long, graceful fingers.

"Andreas is first, I believe, and then Rolfe. I think that's it."

"Well," she said, pulling down her silver mask and settling it into a comfortable position. The splayed wings of a butterfly were delicately painted in white and gold across the eyes and cheeks of the mask, the lips in a blush pink. "I think you should make easy work of the first two, but Balthazar will be out for blood since the last time you broke his nose."

"I can't imagine why, since I made him so much prettier," I said with a smile as I pulled on my own silver mask. Painted in white with black and blood red roses covering the upper half of the face and red lips to match, I considered it my lucky charm. We pulled up the hoods of our cloaks and stashed our bags beneath the low-hanging branches of the oak, then set off for town, sticking to the edges of the houses and buildings where we weren't likely to be noticed. We crept to the back entrance of the Theatre, located on the far side of town close to the community's low defensive wall.

"Evening, ladies," Gregory said as we approached the back door. He stood aside for us to pass.

"Evening, Gregory. Looking handsome as always," Adri's musical voice was so charming that Gregory developed a deep blush up his thick neck, despite having never even seen her face. She trailed her fingers across his broad chest as she passed by him through the door. "You do such a good job keeping the Theatre patrons in line."

"Yeah, well, word is that Balthazar is out for your blood this evening, Miss," he said, tilting his bald head in my direction. "I may be able to keep the patrons in line, but no promises about the fighters." I stopped next to him in the doorway, my head only coming up to his collarbone. I peered up at him, though he couldn't see my eyes through the fine black mesh I had secured across the eye slits to obscure my unusual irises.

"Gregory," I said, patting one of his thick pectoral muscles. Gods, it was hard as stone. "I wouldn't dream of it any other way." I gave him one last pat and caught up to Adri with a skip, looping my arm through hers, both of us giggling with mischief and excitement. A fight was already underway, two slight but muscular men circling each other on the thinly matted floor. Sweat rolled down their spines, and both already had a collection of cuts and welts. The familiar scents of drinks and blood and sweaty men filled the room. The patrons yelled and cheered for their contenders from the wooden railing skirting the fight pit, some holding up coins, some sloshing ale on themselves. The tables toward the edges of the room were all taken, so we went to stand under a window along the back of the room where we could hope to have some fresh air.

"There's Rolfe," Adri said as we took off our cloaks. She nodded to a table across the pit from us. Rolfe was leaning casually against a chair, his black hair flopping over his forehead as he laughed at something a seated companion said. He was lean and tall, and didn't look like he should be a proficient fighter, but he was. I wasn't worried about facing him, however; he always had the same shortcomings - he was too interested in showmanship and too worried about ruining his handsome face.

"Looks like he's having a good time," I murmured as he laughed again. There was a red-haired woman at the table, who I could tell was beautiful despite the distance, and a dark-haired man in a grey, fur-lined cloak who sat facing away from us. There was a sudden mix of cheers and shouts, fists thumping railings, drinks on tables clanking, boots stomping the floor. We looked back to the fight pit where one of the men was lying prone, out cold, while the smaller of the two threw his arms in the air triumphantly. His mahogany-coloured skin was gleaming with sweat, and blood trickled from the split lip of his wide grin.

"You're up," Adri said, holding out her arms to take my cloak. I handed it to her and checked that my long hair was still secured in a low bun before pulling up the hood of my tunic. "Good luck."

"I might need it today," I said, motioning toward Balthazar as he strode into the room across the pit from us. He spotted me immediately and pointed, then punched his meaty fist into his open palm. I bowed theatrically in return, rising to sweep my hand down the nose of my mask before putting on my prettiest pose. Adri and a few onlookers watching our exchange laughed, including Rolfe and the red haired woman.

"Up next tonight, we have the mighty Andreas of the Artaxian Mountains," said the booming voice of Caspar, owner and ringmaster of the Theatre. He turned a circle in the ring as the defeated opponent from the previous match was carried out by his companions. Caspar stretched his muscular arms out wide to encourage cheers from the crowd, his black tattoos barely visible on his dark skin. Andreas passed through the parting crowd with a group of his friends clapping him on the shoulders as they followed him to the edge of the pit. "And fighting Andreas tonight is the undefeated champion - the feisty, the fearsome, the formidable...Flower of Fidelium!"

A salvo of cheers and boos filled the Theatre as I made my way to the pit. I felt a momentary satisfaction that my cheers were louder than those for Andreas. I ducked under the railing and entered the pit, placing my hand over my heart as I curtseyed to Caspar and then to Andreas. Yelling and jostling surrounded us as men placed bets and argued about odds, Andreas warming up by boxing the air and dancing around in his bare feet. I harboured no ill will towards him, and I'd faced him a few times in the last few years. He'd landed a few solid punches, but he mostly felt like a warmup dummy to me.

"Fighters, you know the rules. No weapons. Last one standing wins." Andreas and I nodded. "Begin!" Caspar yelled as the crowd roared. Andreas and I both crouched, circling as we each looked for an opportunity to catch the other off-guard. Andreas lunged first, trying to grab my shoulder, and I ducked low to avoid him. He spun as I came up behind him and trailed a punch with him, but again he was too slow as I bent quickly to my left. He regrouped and we started circling each other again. We traded a few light blows, but we each blocked the other easily. He was testing me out but I knew he would get frustrated quickly, which was always his weakness, and sure enough he took a risky opportunity at a big punch with his right arm. I bent backward as his fist cut the air over my chest. It felt like slow motion as I continued the dive, planting my hands on the floor as the momentum of the backflip brought my legs through the air. My left foot connected with Andreas' jaw, sending him reeling away to the edge of the pit.

I landed in a crouch with the crowd cheering and shouting and banging on tables and railings. Andreas still stood, rubbing his jaw. He shook his head and brought his fists up defensively, ready to continue. This time, I rushed him, running toward his blocky frame. What he couldn't know is that I received a flash of the image in his mind of what he thought would happen as I ran toward him, and I knew then that he expected me to jump up and kick him in the chest. Instead, I dropped into a slide, my feet connecting just above his ankles. He hit the mat with a thunderous whack. I was on top of him before he had a chance to get his bearings, delivering two punches to the left side of his jaw in quick succession, followed by another to the right. That time I heard a crack and a groan of pain from Andreas. I wound up for another punch on his left but stayed my arm.

"Yield!" I yelled at him. He groaned and I hit him again, cocking my hand back for another blow. "Yield!" Andreas tapped the mat, turning his head to the side and spitting out blood.

"Andreas yields!" Caspar boomed. The crowd roared as I jumped off Andreas and offered him my hand to help him up. He took it, and gave me a quick pat on the shoulder before shuffling dejectedly into the audience.

Rolfe was called next into the pit. He was taller and leaner than Andreas, with a boyish handsomeness that was somewhat diminished by his awareness of said handsomeness. He had a kind of grace and charm that was better suited to sword fighting than ring fighting, though he'd been bested at that too by none other than Adri. Still, he was a sly opponent who I knew could fight better than he cared to.

"Lovely to see you again, my feisty little Flower," he said, sweeping my hand up as he bowed and bringing it to his lips. Always the showman. The crowd whooped and cheered. I curtseyed in my own dramatic fashion before pulling my hand away.

"It's been a while, Rolfe. What brings you back to the pit?"

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"I was called to the Court for business. Thought I might as well have some fun while I was here."

"Is it fun getting punched by a woman?" I asked. Rolfe laughed heartily in reply.

"Only one as formidable as you. Speaking of formidable women, I see you brought your friend, the one who excels with the sword," he said, scanning the crowd until he found Adri, who had wormed her way to a spot at the railing. "I'd very much like to spar with her again. I found her...enchanting."

"Then you must really enjoy being beaten."

Rolfe laughed again, his eyes sparkling in the lantern light. "Maybe I do."

Caspar introduced Rolfe to the crowd, and it was time to begin our round. As with Andreas, we circled and traded easy blows, blocking each other's attempts to feel out strengths and weaknesses, and maybe get in a lucky strong hit. Rolfe almost danced across the pit, covering much more surface area than Andreas had. I had wanted to minimize my travel to conserve my energy for the next fight with Balthazar, which Rolfe clearly used to his advantage.

After a few more light punches and kicks, I finally surprised him with a strong kick across the ribs, which he then traded for a blow to my sternum. The wind was sucked from my lungs and the crowd let out a collective 'ooh,' but I was able to recover quickly enough to stay upright. We circled again, Rolfe lunging for a takedown which I spun away from, catching him with an elbow to the back just beneath his scapula. He let out a grunt and faced off with me again, but I was already moving to take out his legs. We fell together on the mat, and I managed to wrap a leg around his throat and position my elbow for a blow to his face.

"Ugh not the nose, that's just ghastly," he said in a strangled voice. "I yield." Rolfe tapped the mat and I rose, offering him a hand. Like Andreas, he took it, then pulled me close to speak into my ear over the roar of Caspar and the jostling crowd. "I don't want to end up like Balthazar before I've even had a chance to see your friend without her mask."

"Who says she's going to give you that chance?" I replied.

"We'll see," he said, then parted with a wink and a bow. Despite the solid blow he delivered to my chest, the fight with Rolfe seemed a bit short, even by his standards. I didn't have time to dwell on it, however. Balthazar had already entered the pit.

Balthazar was nearly as tall as Rolfe, but twice as broad, barrel-chested and thickly muscled. He had a shaved head and jagged scars over much of his body, one that crossed from the top of his forehead to just below his left cheekbone which looked particularly nasty. Whatever it had been from, which was most likely a bar fight as with the majority of his other scars, he'd been lucky not to lose his eye. His nose had healed crooked from where I'd broken it several months ago. I was positive it hadn't been his first break, and that it wouldn't be his last. Even so, the rumour had reached me that he was very put-out that The Flower had given him some new facial angles, and he'd been looking forward to a chance to return the favour. As if reading my mind, Balthazar gave me a sneer and jerked his chin in disdainful acknowledgement of my presence as he lumbered across the pit toward me.

Gods, I couldn't wait to punch his ugly head.

"I'm gonna smash that mask off your face and beat you 'til you look just as pretty as me," he said with a grin. An incisor had gone missing since last I'd seen him.

"Charming," I replied steadily. My heart thudded with a surge of adrenaline. Balthazar might have been dumb as a stone, but he was still a sizeable and aggressive opponent, and one that was motivated by revenge. I bounced on the balls of my feet and waited for the word from Caspar.

The moment the fight was called to start, Balthazar was barreling toward me. There was no circling or strategizing as with my earlier two opponents, only a violent, vicious attack. I managed to dart away from Balthazar's pursuit and caught a glimpse from his mind of his intent to punch my right temple. I was able to twist under his arm and deliver my own punch to his rib cage. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to register with Balthazar and he swung again, connecting with my hip as I was trying to move out of range. The strike hurt but the pain was manageable, and it wasn't until he kicked out a few attempts later and caught my sternum in the same spot as Rolfe that I thought I might be in real trouble.

Severely winded and doubled over in pain, I knew I should have blocked with my left arm as it was positioned closer to Balthazar. Instead, I had tried to block with my right arm and failed. Years of avoiding the ever-present pain of my poorly set break had meant I was now in danger of having my face rearranged. Fortunately, Balthazar was busy celebrating his hit by turning his back to me to rile up the audience, and I was able to get in two good lungfuls of air before regrouping and launching my foot at his kidneys.

The strike surprised him, and as he bent and twisted at an odd angle to come back at me through his pain, I spun through the air and kicked again. That solid strike got him right in the nose, squishing it to his face. I heard the sickening crunch and blood sprayed from his nostrils as he fell unconscious on the mat. The crowd erupted, banging and cheering, several big men entering the pit to drag Balthazar off to the healers. I bent over to catch my breath and Adri appeared at my side.

"Are you alright?" Adri asked, her hand on my back as I took in a few painful breaths.

"Yeah, he really got me. I think it's maybe cracked but I'll be fine," I said, gritting my teeth and pressing my palm to my throbbing chest.

"You sure?" She asked, but I only nodded in response.

"And the Flower of Fidelium wins again!" Caspar said to the uproarious crowd. "And now, we have a special surprise for you. There is a new contender to challenge your champion tonight." Both Adri and I snapped our heads in Caspar's direction.

"What?" Adri said in my ear over the banging glasses and boot-stomped planks. I groaned, pulling myself straighter.

"Tonight, I give you a fighter from afar. Tonight, I give you...Kiran of the Elysian Isles!" The crowd was thunderous as Adri and I scanned the audience for this new opponent.

"Good gods..." I heard Adri say as she gripped my shoulders and turned me to the right. The man that Rolfe had been sitting with, the one with the fur-lined grey cloak, approached the pit. Rolfe grinned at me as Kiran removed his cloak and handed it to him. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen; a hint taller than Rolfe, he had short dark hair and dark stubble across his tan, olive skin. His nose and jaw and cheekbones were strong but not severe, his lips full but still masculine. He smiled as an audience member said something in his ear, and two dimples appeared in his cheeks. Most striking of all were his eyes, a blue so light they were nearly white, a vivid contrast to his sun-kissed skin. "Try to avoid ruining the face, will you?" Adri said in my ear before patting my shoulder and leaving the pit. Kiran tipped his head to her as she passed him, then turned the full force of his smile on me. I was glad for the mask as I could feel the flush of blood creeping up my neck and into my cheeks.

"The Flower of Fidelium," Kiran said with a bow. "I've heard of your prowess in the ring."

"Interesting, as I've heard nothing of yours. Is that why you've come so far? To fight me?" Kiran laughed, a sonorous, musical sound.

"Perhaps, Flower. Perhaps I've come not just to fight, but to win."

"Well. That's presumptuous," I said humorously. He laughed again, rolling the sleeves of his white tunic over his tanned and muscled forearms. I turned my back to him and walked to the other side of the pit, trying to push his beautiful face from my mind and prepare for the unknown.

"No weapons," Caspar bellowed. "Last one standing wins. Let the fight...begin!" Kiran and I circled in the pit, and I got the immediate impression he was going to take his time to make a move. I drew it out, hoping he would become frustrated, but he showed no signs of impatience. The crowd, on the other hand, they wanted some action, and the onlookers grew steadily louder the longer we took.

"Are you going to attack me, Flower, or are we going to dance all night?" The dimples came out in full as he shot me a self-satisfied grin.

"If this is your idea of dancing, you must be very lonely at a ball."

Kiran laughed again. "Is that why you wear a mask? You're hoping for an invitation to a masquerade ball? Tell me, Flower, why do you wear a mask?"

I rolled my eyes behind the black mesh screen. "Why does anyone wear a mask?" I scoffed. "To conceal their identity."

Kiran's eyes sparked like white-blue flames. "Well, what a shame for you," he said, coming close enough that only I could hear. "Because I already know what you are, Diviner." He flashed me a grin as my heart stopped in its cracked cage, and then he launched. One blink and I was flat on my back on the bloodied, stinking mats. My training took over and I twisted out from under him and scurried to the edge of the pit, but he was impossibly fast, and in a blur of motion he kicked my legs out from under me. As soon as I landed heavily on my side he had me turned over onto my back, his forearm against my throat as he leaned in close, his amused gaze bouncing between the eyes of my mask. "There you are," he said, grinning as my anger flared, my vision bathed in light.

"And there you are," I replied as I smacked my knee into his groin. Kiran rolled off of me in pain and I took the opportunity to land a kick to his left torso. "Sorry, Adri," I whispered as I started to spin into a wheel kick with the intent of smashing into the side of his face, but my foot never connected. Instead, Kiran grabbed my lower leg and used my own momentum to throw me across the pit where I landed on my stomach. In the time it took me to blink, his weight and intense heat were on my back, his right arm around my neck in a chokehold while his left hand twisted my left arm behind my back.

"Yield," he said close to my ear. I thrashed violently but couldn't throw him off. Kiran twisted my arm, the old break sending sharp pains from my wrist to my elbow. I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out.

"No!" I spat across the mat. Kiran flexed his bicep, the grip on my windpiper tightening. I gasped for breath.

"Yield, and walk away with your identity protected. Or don't, and you will be unconscious in a matter of seconds, and Balthazar will be the first to rip off this mask. I'm sure he must be awake by now. The choice is yours." His grip on both my throat and my wrist tightened again, and this time I let out a strangled cry of frustration. I kicked my feet around aimlessly, but I knew he was right - there was no other option but to yield.

I tapped the mat with my right hand and the response from the crowd was deafening. Since I'd started coming to the Theatre three years ago, I had never lost a match, and this upset had the crowd in a frenzy. Kiran eased his grip on my throat but still pressed the hot weight his body to mine, trapping me on the mat. "I want to hear you say it," he said, his voice low.

"Say what," I snapped venomously.

"Say you yield." I laughed, incredulous at the arrogance of his demand.

"Get the hell off me."

"Say it," he said softly.

"Get off!" I kicked out once more, not getting anywhere with the effort. The crowd didn't even notice my predicament, they were too busy claiming bets and paying coins and skirmishing amongst themselves as I'd already declared defeat with a tap of the mat. "Oh my gods, you're some kind of pervert, aren't you?!" Kiran laughed, the sound of it rumbling through my chest.

"While I cannot claim to not enjoy our flirting-"

"We are not flirting-"

"-I am not a pervert." He pressed his face close to my hood, his lips next to my left ear, his scent of cedar and sage sweeping around me. His voice was barely more than a whisper. "You could still win this match, if you really wanted to...if your motivation was strong enough. I will not take this win from you unless you give it to me. Just tell me you yield to me and I will let you go, Diviner." Kiran's grip remained the same, not tightening but not relenting either. His chest rose and fell heavily from the lingering exertion of our fight, his heart thudding against my back.

"I already tapped the mat," I snapped.

"It's not the same," he snapped back.

"Fine! I yield. Now get the hell off." He immediately released me but I still pushed him anyway, exasperated and embarrassed. He offered me a hand to help me up and I smacked it away, which only served to earn me a laugh from the new champion of the pit. Adri rushed over and helped me up, guiding me out of the ring as Caspar presented his winner to the crowd. I glanced back at Kiran, expecting a gloating grin to be plastered all over his beautiful face, but instead I found him staring at me with a concerned, almost reverent expression. In that moment, I felt in the depths of my being that he was right...I could have won, if I was willing to pay the price.