“I’m sorry. I hurt you.” Jade frowned, lowering her hand.
“No,” he corrected her in a hoarse, hushed voice, “you didn’t hurt me. But you’re my mistress. Jade,” he said, dropping his voice even further and flushing with anger, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just do us both a favor and leave me alone.”
The angry, smart retort he expected from Jade didn’t come. He felt her eyes on his face, though he would no longer meet them with his. She took a step closer to him before she spoke.
“You resent me now, Vent. For being your mistress. You never did before. Why?” At this last word Jade touched the back of his hand lightly with her fingertips.
He pulled back abruptly. “We have promises to keep.”
She blinked, then hardened her expression, squared her shoulders, and glided out past him.
“Connie, could you bring the coffee to my room when it’s ready, please?” she said, and she hurried away before Connie could get out all of, “Yes, Miss.”
PART TWO
CHAPTER EIGHT
Spring’s First Month, 658 After the Founding
It was still early when they arrived at Warrior’s Way, in Crossroads City. It was a sunny spring day, a day that begged to be spent outdoors, but they headed straight for the center’s main training room.
At the training room door, Calling Fox gripped Venture’s hand in a firm shake. “It’s good to see you again. You’re getting tall, Vent. As big as most of these guys now.”
“Seventeen,” Earnest said, standing beside Venture and looking up, “and nearly a head taller than me.”
“I’ve still got a lot of bulking up to do.” Venture gave Calling’s tree-trunk limbs a meaningful look.
Dasher shook Calling’s hand too. “We’re here for the next couple of months, if you’ll have us.”
Calling, a fighter in his mid-twenties, had become a good friend to his rival, Dasher Starson, over their years competing against each other. Dasher had won his third Championship the year before, and Calling had taken third, behind him and Will Fisher. They all knew without saying that when Dasher left Warrior’s Way, he and Calling would both spend the last couple of months before the Championship taking what they’d just learned and working on a plan to pick each other apart when they met up again in the arena.
Calling promised them a room in the dormitory, and they left the unpacking for later and got right to the mat.
“It should be easier for you this time than it was last year, keeping up with the men,” Calling said as he sat down to stretch next to Venture.
“I hope so.”
Though they specialized in adult fighters, Warrior’s Way had separate training for younger fighters, split up into different age groups; some, like at Beamer’s, as young as ten. But Venture stayed with Dasher and Earnest, and that meant that most of the time his training partners were grown men. They had been since his first visit two years ago.
After drilling several striking and takedown sequences, it was time for sparring. The first fighter he went against, Carter, was tough, but Venture was able to push him now. That meant that Carter pushed back, harder than before. Venture wasn’t just a kid for Carter to be careful with anymore like he’d been during last year’s visit; he was a real threat. Venture managed to stay on top against Carter, but the next guy was even better, and he barely scraped by.
After the fifth straight round, each fighter a higher caliber than the last, Calling said, “Come on, Vent. You and me.”
Venture tried to give him a fight, but he was so strong, so powerful, it was like trying to move a brick wall around the mat. Calling took him down time and time again, swift, crisp, hard. Venture couldn’t count the strikes that made it through his best efforts at defense. And everything he attempted to do to Calling failed completely.
The whistle blew. After Venture shook Calling’s hand, he found a place on the wall, apart from the others.
Earnest leaned on the wall next to him. “What’s going on?”
Venture picked at his gloves, a birthday gift from Dasher. “I wanted to do better. I thought I’d do better.”
Earnest shook his head. “There’s no shame in getting handled by Calling Fox. You’ll get there. Just give it some time.”
“We just got here and already . . .” Venture looked at all the men around him, fresh and strong. The reality of a couple of months battling them this hard, day in, day out, was sinking in. Just thinking about it made him want to sink right down to the mat. He stood up straight, but he admitted, “I’m tired.”
“You’re tired?”
“I ache, all the time. And here—”
“Listen to me,” Earnest whispered. “You think you’re done? You want to be done? Then that Championship is never going to happen.”
“I’m not done. I just . . .”
“It’s tough. It hurts. Six days a week.”
“It hurts on our off-day, too.”
Earnest scowled and smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “A lot of guys waste years of hard work just because one day they decide they don’t want to step it up again. You’re almost there. You’re this close to your prime. Do you want to be ready for it, or do you want to squander it?”
“Be ready.”
“Good.” Earnest gave the laces on his gloves a tug. “Next round, I want you back out there.”
Venture sprinted to the wall one last time and raised a hand to Lance and Nick, who’d stopped by to watch after one of their own training sessions. After what had happened at Champions Center, and now that they were enjoying their training at Warrior’s Way without him, their sometimes bitter rivalry had been replaced by their old friendliness and a growing, new sort of respect. Venture was bigger than both of them now. They came to the men’s training session to work out with him when he was here, but they were no match for him anymore, and they could barely hang on with the rest of the guys. Though they were older than Venture, they still needed another year of maturing in order to really fit in with the men.
Venture began his last set of push-ups. Just one more week before they left Warrior’s Way. Just when he was starting to get used to training with these guys. Carter gave his shoulder a friendly shove. He and the other Warrior’s Way fighters were done with their workout, but Earnest had Venture and Dasher going still.
“Are you guys going to catch Willson’s fight tomorrow night?”
Venture kept pumping out push-ups. “Who’s he got?”
“Lane.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, you ought to have Earnest set one up for you, with one of the other young guys. Put a little extra in your pockets.”
Venture shook his head. Not only would Justice come and drag him home if he did something like that, but such an arrangement between two underage fighters was illegal, as it should be. Privately arranged fights had put a little extra in his father’s pockets, but look how that had ended. Venture had better options. He didn’t have to take that kind of risk. He was working hard to convince Justice that there was a difference between what he was doing and what their father had done, that he wasn’t reckless.
“Private prize fights are the future,” said Carter. “What else are we going to do once they get rid of the Championship? Once they outlaw tournaments altogether?”
All the fighters were talking about it now, this mess Prowess Longlake had started. Most other people just laughed it off, but the fighters, trainers, and coaches at the highest level were starting to worry.
“They’ll never get the votes.”
Carter laughed dryly. “They’ll make sure they do, one way or another.”
Venture finished his push-ups and joined Dasher, who was already halfway done with their last set of sprints. When he was done, he grabbed his water flask and devoted his full attention to emptying it.
“Enough water!” Earnest said. “You’ll get a cramp.”
Venture panted, “I thought we were done.”
“Change of plans. I want a five-minute round from you two.”
“A little extra,” Dasher said. “Such a nice surprise. Let’s go, Champ.”
“You’ll thank me when you’re in the arena.” Earnest pushed Venture out there. “When your match goes much longer than you thought it would. When your opponent is tired and done and you’re not.”
Venture took his place across from Dasher. It would be a long time before Venture fought in the arena, but he could help Dasher get ready, even if it was just by being another body willing to give him one more round.
A minute or so into the round, Dasher shot in on Venture’s legs, but Venture blocked it, locked his arms around Dasher’s neck, stuck his foot out, and swept him sideways, onto his back. Venture hustled up onto his toes, squeezing his arms and pushing all his weight down toward Dasher’s head.
Dasher tapped, and Venture stood up, stunned. Dasher looked up at him from the mat and grinned—a grin that said,
Nice job
, but also,
Now I have to make you pay
.
Venture smiled back and helped him up. Let him make him pay. He’d just tapped Dasher Starson out for the first time. A little pain was worth it, and maybe, just maybe, he’d even manage to do it again.
From the matside, Lance and Nick murmured their appreciation. A couple of the other fighters who were lingering matside, just kids who liked to watch the men fight, cheered for him. Earnest gave a low whistle and tossed the sand timer aside.
“Who cares about the time?” he said. “Keep at it.”
Venture fought on, chest burning, head and heart pounding as one, but he’d already poured all his energy into the first few minutes, and this was Dasher, ever tireless. Dasher, shutting down everything he attempted, with precision and strength just as fresh as when they’d started. It was nothing but agony now.
Come on, Earnest
, he begged silently, but Venture wouldn’t quit until he was told, because he wouldn’t give up, but also out of respect for Earnest.
Dasher pulled his fist back mercifully just before it met Venture’s face. “Come on, Champ. Keep your hands up. You’re getting sloppy.”
Of course he was getting sloppy. He was exhausted. Come to think of it, he was always sloppy compared to Dasher. He’d never have Dasher’s stamina, his technique. One tap-out didn’t change that. Venture tried anyway. His arms were so tired. Dasher grasped his body and tried to throw him backward. Venture threw his legs out behind him, bracing himself in order not to fall.
But then, Dasher released Venture and turned abruptly toward the door of the training room. It thrust open with a great creak-swish. The thump of boots and the shuffle of shoulder against shoulder followed, then the bang of the door. Six pairs of muddy boots strode onto the mat, leaving smears of grime behind them. They stopped. A cluster of young men, dirty and dingy, stood, fists on their hips. Their eyes gleamed with the possibility of putting them to use. There was a swagger even in their stillness. A wordless challenge.
Dasher and Venture moved beside Calling, who stood calmly, staring the group down.
“Local ruffians,” Calling said. He slipped his thick hands back into his leather gloves. “Formed their own gang because they weren’t good enough or didn’t want the rules and structure of a real fighting center.” He tightened the laces, then clapped his hands together, a different sort of gleam in his eye. “A good beating will do them good.”
“Swords, Dash?” Earnest called from the matside, ready to run for them.
“You armed, boys?” Calling said to the challenging men.
They opened their shirts and lifted up their pant legs to show him.
“No swords!” Dasher concluded. Then, under his breath, “Just a little fun.”
Earnest, Lance, and Nick joined the others on the mat, ready to fight alongside them.
“What do you want?” Calling said.
“To show you boys there’s more than one way to learn how to fight.”
“All right, then. Let’s go,” Calling said.
Venture picked out a lanky one just in front of him. He easily kicked him just below the ribs, then sent him sprawling with a straight punch in the nose.
“Vent! Behind you!” Earnest shouted.
He caught one of the guys in mid-leap at his back. The man’s own momentum did most of the work when Venture grabbed him at the shoulder and between the legs and wheeled him over his head and to the floor. His body arched back as he was thrown, instead of curling up for safety. His head slammed and his back smacked against the firm straw mats in a way that it shouldn’t have if he were properly trained. He lay there, limp, eyes closed.
“Anyone go for the lawmen yet?” Dasher said as he rammed another guy against the wall.
“That’s where the little guys went,” Calling said.
Venture was just thinking how smart that was, to send the handful of younger boys who’d been watching them to alert the lawmen, when he saw that one of them hadn’t made it out. One of the intruders had his hands around the throat of a twelve-year-old fighter named Bear, who’d been coming to watch Venture train since his first visit here. The intruder pressed him up against the wall without mercy. Bear had lost so much consciousness he couldn’t so much as gasp, and could only claw feebly at his assailant. It wasn’t even a proper choke. He could crush his throat, pressing into the front of it that way—even kill him.
The stranger smiled at Bear sadistically, so enjoying himself that he failed to notice that his friends were being subdued, and that Venture was coming. Venture reached around from behind him, reached for the hands on Bear’s throat. He took each of the thumbs in one of his fists and wrenched them back, dislocating them from the rest of the man’s hands. The intruder released Bear, shrieking like a wounded animal. His knees folded and he huddled there on the mat, shaking.
Bear sank down too, gasping and blinking. He put his own hands to his throat.
“You okay?” Venture swiped the front of Bear’s dark hair back with one hand in order to get a good look at his bloodshot eyes.
Bear nodded weakly, staring not at Venture, but at the one who’d attacked him, who lay curled up on the mat, looking at his own thumbs protruding unnaturally from his hands. The guy started screaming all over again.
“Earnest!” Venture had never been squeamish, but now his stomach was swimming.