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

  Again, he stepped back, but this time she changed the rules. As his foot sank into the soft sand, she lashed out with her sword on one side, but with the other, she kicked, all her of her weight pushing her forward, giving her that much more power.

  He staggered.

  She didn't wait. She didn't dare give him a chance to recover. Leyli shoved her entire body into him, their shields sliding against each other. It was enough to rock his balance, but even more important, it let her slide around. Face to face, she'd never win. She didn't have the reach to get to him. Oh no, but she was smarter. All she had to do was get him off balance and get behind him. As their weapons tangled, he tried to break free, putting her right where she wanted to be.

  Leyli kicked again, but this time at the back of his knee. Grub staggered, barely catching himself, but it was too late. In that split second, she reversed her sword and shoved, the point piercing the unprotected skin of his back. With a pull, she wrenched it free, just to do it again and again, until she heard it.

  When a man dies, there's always that breath. It's the moment he knows it's over. It's that second when the mind is so flooded with fear that breathing is the most the body can accomplish. It always flows in so fast, then slowly drifts out, because there's no more life to fuel it. When she pulled the sword from his body one last time, Grub slid to the ground, his brown eyes locked on something only the dead could see.

  For a moment she did nothing, just watched. Her first solo victory and it felt so hollow. She wasn't sick. She'd gotten over that long ago, but her only prize was a massive void where once her soul had been. She was a gladiator. She'd just killed another man because her cousin thought she'd die easily. At least this one hadn't been innocent.

  Shucking off her weapons, she dropped them on the dead man's chest, then turned and headed back for her den. Above, the crowd was screaming, thrilled at the violence of it all, and she was their ruler. Just before she stepped out of sight, Leyli turned and accepted the praise, lifting her hands with a pasted on smile. She was their king. She could do this.

  Chapter 16

  They averaged three gladiatorial games a month. Usually she had her tandem match with Tristan on the first day, then they each fought solo on the second. It was her twenty-first match where everything went bad. In all her time training, she'd never learned how to deal with a flail, but that was the weapon assigned. Chained at her side, Tristan tried to talk her through it, but the reality was nothing like the description.

  Large spiked balls hung from long handles. The balance was different from any weapon she'd ever used. As they waited for the portcullis to lift, the pair agreed that Tristan should handle the attacks. She just had to keep her head far enough back so the end couldn't spatter her face like a ripe melon. Neither one mentioned what they both knew. This was Merino's first try at taking out his star gladiator.

  Thankfully, there were only three teams against them. The arena was at a small town near the edge of the country, which made it too expensive for most owners to find appealing. Leyli wondered if Merino wanted the anonymity of the location to help explain the loss of his prized fighter. She studied the men around her and knew that only one was a real threat. His partner was expendable, but the bashing weapon made it less likely that the boy would be sacrificed for his shield.

  The starting gong sounded and they moved. The team to their left was weak enough to die quickly. The team to the right rushed to the stone columns in the center, hoping to use them as additional defense. The team directly across from them was the only one they had to worry about. Leyli kept a portion of her attention on them as she and the Lion rushed the weaklings.

  Tristan made for the shieldman while she hit the other hard. Using her short size for leverage, the metal rim cracked into the bottom of his jaw. Dazed, he staggered, giving Tristan the chance to smash his head in. Leyli turned to the shieldman, pressing him while Tristan moved into place. The boy's eyes were wide in fear, but she ignored it. She couldn't give in to sympathy, not if she wanted to live. Everyone in the arena knew that.

  While she hammered at his protection, the Lion shifted around. With a roar, he killed the kid quickly, the gore from the blow splattering across Leyli's shield and face. In a smooth motion, he grabbed the dead man's shield and shoved his arm through the straps. As one, they turned for the center.

  The plan was to take out the next team from the back, but the men were paying attention. She crashed into the shieldman while the one with the flail swung at Tristan's head. Training kicked in and Leyli stepped into the blow, the metal hitting hard enough to make her shield ring out like a bell. Beside her, the shieldman was turning. Tristan stepped, giving her room to work, but he wasn't fast enough. In slow motion, she watched her opponent's shield crash into her partner's head, right across the temple. The Lion's knees folded.

  "Tristan!" she screamed, still fighting for her life. "Get up!"

  She moved back, placing her body over his, but couldn't see if he was alive. It didn't matter. They were chained and he was her tether. They would live or die together. All she could do was pray, and with every block and thrust of her shield, she did. One more step back and she was in reach of his weapon.

  Lifting her shield as high as she could, Leyli crouched into a defensive position. Her fingers closed on the handle of Tristan's flail, but instead of picking it up, she swung sideways. The spiked ball connected, and the man before her fell, his leg in splinters. Another crash came at her shield, but she couldn't lower it to look. She just swung again.

  This time she wasn't so lucky. The heavy end missed and came back at her. The sharp spike ripped at her leg, but it wasn't deep, just a reminder that she was useless with this weapon. The only thing she had going for her was tenacity, and the Wolf of Oberhame had plenty of that.

  Using his feet to locate her target, she lunged. She was faster than the shieldman expected, and he stumbled. Her flail followed, but so did his. The ball clanked beside her head, catching the lip of her shield, but hers hit. The man yelped, so she slammed him again with the shield. That's when the last group decided to join the fray.

  "Tristan," she cried again, jumping back to stand over his torso. "Get up. Please get up."

  The lone gladiator turned to the new threat, knowing Leyli was chained. He miscalculated her reach because of it. Waiting for her chance, she dropped her shield, and in a fluid motion, moved the weapon into her left hand, hitting as hard as she could. She aimed for his head, but the ball landed just between his shoulders with a sickening crunch. The last team jumped on him while Leyli scrambled to recover.

  It took only seconds to get her shield back. It took longer for her opponents to kill the man she'd left wounded. Leyli used the time to look down. Tristan blinked, confused, but he was conscious. "Get up!" she snapped.

  "Ley." He sounded out of it.

  "Don't you dare get me killed. Get your ass in the game, Lion."

  The words came out of her mouth just as the last team slammed into her. Low, hovering over Tristan's body, she absorbed it and countered. Her swings were wild, the spiked end hitting her own shield more than anything else, but she was dangerous. Her lack of skill made her more so, but it meant none of them were safe. The fight was just a chaos of pounding weapons. Then the Lion roared.

  Rolling behind her, he attacked with the flail his enemy had once used. The man on the left went down. The one on the right swung for the revived man. She shoved with her shield and lashed out with the weapon, feeling her muscles strain with the effort. She would not lose! She would not let these men kill the Lion, not when he was so close.

  The ball hit, the man's skull crumpling under the force, but the weapon was stuck. Without a second thought, she surged toward the last man on the ground. Tristan was still on his knees. He was still weak. It was up to her to save him. She hit the enemy like an entire pack of wolves, howling out her rage. Together, they fell into the sand, but she was on top.

  Her knee pinned his flail to the sand. Her
hands grasped the handles of her shield, and the man stared up in shock. His eyes were blue, as pale as a summer morning, and he didn't even have time to weep before she brought the metal edge down as hard as she could. Over and over she bashed at his face, using both arms to make the hits even harder. She wasn't going to stop, until a pair of arms pulled her back.

  "He's dead," Tristan said. It sounded like it wasn't the first time.

  She just dropped her shield and turned, wrapping her arms around him. "You're not. I was so scared. I thought he killed you."

  His hand found the back of her head, holding her to his neck. "You saved me, pup. There were four, then there were two, and I don't know what happened in between, but you were snarling like a wolf protecting her cubs."

  "Don't you dare do that again! Don't leave me, Tristan. I can't do this alone."

  He hugged her so hard her feet left the ground. Around them, the crowd cheered, loving the sight, but it was a promise. While the people yelled at the destruction, Tristan whispered in her ear, swearing that he'd protect her so long as she took care of him. She'd saved his life, but he'd already saved hers. They weren't even, but they probably never would be, and it didn't matter. The debts only bound them closer.

  It wasn't until he set her down that he saw the blood on her leg. "What happened?"

  She looked, then winced at the sight. "Will you sew it?"

  "Gonna have to. Who got you?"

  "I got me. I think I need to learn how to use a flail."

  He just nodded, wrapping one arm around her waist. She limped and he made a spectacle for the fans. Around the edge, the flowers fell, along with other trinkets. They were almost to the gate when one caught his eye. Tristan steered her toward it.

  From the sand, he pulled a wooden carving on a hemp string meant to be a necklace. He smiled up at the fan above, then held it out. The pendant was a lion and a wolf, their limbs entangled, the style the same as the royal crest. It was actually very well done. Then he dropped the string over her neck.

  "We love you, Wolf!" a teenaged boy yelled, waving at her.

  Tristan laughed. "She loves you too, but she bites!"

  Leyli slapped his arm and started limping for the gate, forcing him to keep up. Tristan chuckled and pulled at the chain, making the crowd laugh. Then Leyli pulled back. He made a production of staggering toward her, before grabbing her waist and lifting her up like a child. With her legs dangling, and her hands slapping at his arms, he carried her into the tunnel that led back to their cells.

  It wasn't until they were freed from each other and locked behind the bars that he dropped on the bench with a groan. "Gods, my head hurts."

  "He hit you right in the temple." She moved before him to check the injury, probing at it gently.

  He winced when she pressed in one spot. "That's it."

  "Can you make your next fight?" Her voice was soft.

  He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yeah. I've fought with worse, Ley." Then he caught her hand. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome." She grabbed the pendant. "I'm keeping this."

  "I'm pretty sure I have a real chain that will fit it." He winked. "Should hang nicely right in that valley."

  She tapped the hollow of her throat. "You mean this one?"

  He leaned forward and tapped the crease between her breasts. "Nope, I mean where people will actually look."

  "Tristan!" She slapped his hand away. "Stop trying to get a cheap feel and sew up my leg."

  He grinned, collecting the things he'd need. After the first time, he'd taken to carrying silk thread and a needle with him. The wine would do well enough to clean it. As he guided her into position on the bunk, his eyes flicked up.

  "Gonna spread those legs for me, Ley?"

  "Sure. But just for you, and no one else. I have a reputation to uphold." She gasped when the wine trickled into the laceration. "If that's how you thank me, then I've changed my mind."

  He rinsed it again, but this time his lips found her knee, kissing it gently. They both paused. Slowly, he looked up. "Mama always said that made it hurt less."

  Leyli nodded. "She was a wise woman."

  "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  She leaned forward and caught the side of his face, making him look at her. "It's ok. We both know I'm not going to make it home an innocent woman. My honor is already ruined. I'll never make a good marriage because of it. I just have to keep going."

  "Yeah," he muttered. "But I'm not going to make it worse. That's not what partners do. You and I? We're not going to cross that line."

  "I know." She tried to smile, but couldn't quite push it all the way to her eyes. "I trust you, Tristan. I trust you enough to know that you won't. My brother used to kiss my knee when he pulled out the stickers from the rose garden."

  "Running through the roses?"

  She shrugged. "More like dancing in them. Made me feel close to Mom. She died when I was born."

  "I'm sorry, pup. Maybe one day you can meet mine. She doesn't have rose gardens or anything, but she grows amazing herbs. I can't wait to tell her I can read."

  "And write. When we get a chance, you should send her a letter."

  He shook his head. "She can't read either."

  "The priests can, and there's a temple just south of there."

  His eyes narrowed and his head tilted. "How do you know these things, Ley? How do you even know Lenlochlien has a priest's temple?"

  She licked her lips and gestured for him to start sewing. "Because I grew up with rose gardens, Tristan. I know where Lenlochlien is. I'd also love to meet your mother."

  Then the needle pierced her skin, and all she could do was hold back the cries.

  Chapter 17

  They both won their solo fights easily. Leyli's wounded leg didn't even slow her down, and from the way her opponent reacted, she was earning her own reputation. She didn't have enough victories to be a true veteran gladiator, yet, but the others were starting to treat her like one. She knew it was the Lion's doing. Without him, she'd already be dead.

  Eventually they returned to Villanelle for more training. It was the closest thing she had to a home, even if she spent more time in Tristan's rooms than her own. At least that convinced the other fighters to leave her alone. Not many of them were scared of her, but everyone was terrified of the Lion. There was only one man in the games with more wins, and Death had chosen not to fight his way free. Not everyone liked the option of owning their own life, it seemed.

  But Leyli did, and she was determined that one of them was going to get it. The morning after they got back, she woke early, intending to get to work, but Tristan just pulled her back into the mattress. He didn't even bother opening his eyes to do it.

  "That leg of yours won't thank you for abusing it. Go back to sleep," he muttered.

  She tugged at the massive arm around her waist. "I need to learn how to use a flail."

  "Mm." He rolled toward her, tucking her against his chest like a child's toy. "Tomorrow. I like this."

  "Tristan!" She tried to slide up the bed, hoping to wiggle free, but he was more awake than he pretended. "Do you think I'm just here for your amusement?"

  His eyes flicked open, his face only inches from her stomach. Looking down at him like this made her heart beat faster. His hands were on her hips, his mouth only inches from her belly. It was Tristan, but a lifetime of lessons said what she was doing was wrong. Leyli froze.

  His mouth opened to speak, but closed without a word. So close, she watched him take a deep breath, let it out, then come to a decision. Turning his head, he pressed his cheek against her stomach, and moved one arm behind her back in a very low hug.

  "You're comfortable," he said, his tone sounding apologetic. "That's all, Ley. I was just trying to make sure you got a chance to do something besides always worrying about what comes next."

  "Tristan?"

  He refused to look up again. "I'll never hurt you. You're here to guard my back, not entertain me." He pressed just a bit
closer. "It's just nice not to be alone."

  She swallowed. It had to be loud enough for him to hear, but she needed to get the lump out of her throat. "My brother never did that."

  "I'm not your brother."

  "I know." With a sigh, she finally grabbed his head, holding him against her. "I try to think of you like that, but I'm not very good at it."

  "Yeah." He pulled away, flopping onto his back. "We can't go there, Ley. You're nothing like those sluts that pay for me, and I don't want to put you in that category." His eyes were on the ceiling, refusing to look at her.

  There was no one around to hear them. There was no reason not to have this talk, but she still felt like she should deny everything. The man in bed beside her was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. He was kind, considerate, intelligent, and more noble than anyone except her father, but she couldn't think of him like that. If she started, she might not ever stop.

  She could address one thing. It was safe. "I don't want to die a pregnant gladiator."

  "I'd rather you didn't die at all."

  With that, he crawled out of bed. Since she'd been curling up beside him, Tristan had taken to wearing soft pants to bed. They were loose and baggy, and did nothing to hide the protrusion in the front. Morning wood, he'd called it the first time she'd blushed. Now, she just ignored it as he headed to the corner. Leyli didn't even bother to look away as he emptied his bladder. They were beyond that. When you watched someone come so close to dying, taking a piss was nothing to be ashamed of.

  "Can we do breakfast in here and have a lazy morning, instead?" She didn't really want to train, but her body was wide awake, and laying in bed with him was a very bad idea.

  He looked back, over his shoulder. "Sure. Make sure you wash that cut on your leg. Don't want it to get infected."