Page 21

The Bottom of the Barrel wasn’t just a clever name after all.

This part of Saverio—Alessa discreetly covered her nose as she entered the fine establishment—was a breeding ground for unsavory characters. “Fodder,” they were often dubbed. As in, fodder for the scarabeo. Even if she could ignore the stink of fear and sweat—and she couldn’t—the dingy tavern didn’t even have a tone-deaf musician for entertainment. Instead, a crowd surrounded a cage large enough to fit a dozen men.

It held only one.

People shoved their faces against the bars, jeering at the lone figure inside, but he didn’t seem to notice. Bronze, barefoot, and stripped to his waist, he stood facing away from her, lazily gripping the bars. Dark hair, wet with sweat, curled at the nape of his neck, and his muscles were streaked with blood.

Fights to the death were illegal, but betting on fights was common entertainment on the docks. According to Adrick, as long as both combatants were alive when the fight ended, it didn’t count as murder. If grievous injuries caused one fighter to dielater…well, that was bad luck.

The crowd roiled and Alessa curled inward, using her cloak like a shield against the jostling bodies. These people didn’t recognize her, didn’t know to fear her touch. It was exhilarating and terrifying.

She was so busy studying the crowd that she stumbled as a wiry, grizzled man shoved his way through, leading a hulking brute. Their eyes were fixed on the cage.

The man inside it rolled his neck, revealing his profile, and Alessa muttered a distinctly un-Finestra-like word. She’d found who she was looking for, but judging from the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd, he was about to get beaten to a pulp.

The uneven lighting cast his features in stark relief. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips a braver person might have described as pouty. He didn’t seem the type to pout, though. Or appreciate the compliment. He appeared utterly disinterested, but his eyes glittered. The older man entered the cage, growling and snapping at him, and he merely cocked an eyebrow as though faintly amused.

She, on the other hand, couldn’t breathe.

His lean, bronzed muscles were nice enough to look at, but his opponent’s arms were thick as tree trunks, gnarled with scars and burn marks, and his massive hands could’ve smashed Alessa’s skull. Well, nothers, but anyone else’s.

No one with such smooth, unmarred skin and graceful movements could possibly stand a chance against this massive, battle-scarred brute.

It was going to be a massacre.

The announcer made a dramatic show of ordering the barking hulk to stay back, and turned to the crowd. “We have a challenger! Will the Wolf’s fourth match be his last, or can he bring down the Bear? Who will walk away and who will be carried out?”

The crowd surged forward, waving their bets in the air. There was no escape from the tide, and Alessa didn’t try. She didn’t want to see such a beautiful man reduced to a pile of bloody bones, but she couldn’t look away.

The bell startled her. Stretching onto her toes, she strained to see over the shoulders partially blocking her view.

The big man lunged, leapt back, and lunged again, taunting the young man. The Wolf, they’d called him. It fit almost too well. Poised but motionless, he resembled the shadowy creatures who lurked in the forests on the far side of the island. His lip curled, exposing sharp canines. A wolf, cornered by a bear, refusing to show weakness before a stronger, deadlier opponent.

The Bear lowered his head to ram.

The Wolf glanced down to study his fingernails.

Alessa pressed her tongue between her teeth so she didn’t cry out.

At the last moment, the Wolf stepped aside, and the other man barely avoided crashing into the bars.

Their dance continued until the Bear landed his first blow, his fist smashing into the Wolf’s jaw.

The Wolf dragged a hand across his chin and shook it, splattering blood across the floor, then landed a punch to the big man’s gut, but the next blow he took sounded like it cracked a few ribs. Alessa bit down on her knuckles.

The Wolf slammed a fist into the big man’s cheek and lookedabout to land a second hit when someone smashed a glass against the bars, sending glittering shards over him. The Wolf flinched and turned away, one hand to his eye. The crowd booed, and the announcer called for a time-out.

The Bear ignored the call. His opponent’s back was turned, and he slammed his fist into the Wolf’s lower back.

He dropped.

Alessa wasn’t the only one who gasped. The room seemed to hold its collective breath as the Bear stalked over to nudge the Wolf with his foot.

Alessa squeezed her eyes shut. She shouldn’t have stayed. She didn’t need another death to remember.

The crowd cheered, and she opened her eyes to see the Wolf struggling to his feet, shaking his head to clear it.

The Bear glowered at having his victory lap cut short. “Hit me, pup!”