Page 76 of House of Embers (Royal Houses #5)

Chapter One

The Fight

Kerrigan was losing.

Blood dripped into her eye from a gash at her brow. Her feet danced back and forth on the hard stone floor, light and eager, with her hands protecting her face. Little good it had done.

Her form was in complete contrast to the bruiser before her. He was nearly seven feet tall and built like the haunches of a dragon—massive and muscular. Though he was all power and no finesse.

“You going to dance on your twinkle toes all day, or are we going to fight?” Bruiser grunted.

“I was considering it,” she bit back.

He laughed gruffly. “Fine. Make it easy for me, Red.”

Bruiser stepped forward, using his limited elemental magic to give him an edge as he rushed toward her. The earth rattled beneath her feet, and she shuffled side to side in an attempt to stay upright. But then he was in front of her, his eyes keen on victory before his fist even shot for her face.

She blocked him with her forearm, taking a bone-crunching amount of pressure.

She dodged the second blow and used a trickle of air to shove his fist out of the way.

She hated being on the defensive, but she’d never seen Bruiser fight before.

She always spent the first couple of minutes discovering her opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, assessing the situation to her advantage.

Unfortunately, that meant getting punched in the stomach with a giant rock.

All the air gasped out of Kerrigan’s lungs as she was propelled backward into the ropes. She collapsed forward onto her knees, coughing spastically. She spat blood onto the floor. An offering to whatever gods were watching.

Her eyes lifted. Bruiser was smirking, holding his hands up to the crowd as if he’d already won the match. Overconfident, arrogant bastard.

She heaved herself back to her feet and kicked the rock he’d thrown off the edge of the ring. Her bright red mess of hair had come out of its braid with that throw, and now, unruly curls framed her narrow face.

At least her gold headband still held. She had no interest in revealing her short, barely pointed ears.

“You still in it?” Bruiser taunted as he sauntered in her direction. He didn’t even lift his defenses. He didn’t so much as reach for a speck of earth. He was used to using his fists and getting his way. “Poor little thing. I’m going to have to put you to sleep.”

“We’ll see if you can, Bruiser.”

Kerrigan’s sight blurred at the edges. The fumes from the Wastes—the deplorable underground crime building where she was currently fighting—sure didn’t help matters.

The Dragon Ring was on the bottom level and smelled like stale ale and blood and vomit.

She preferred it down here to nearly everything up above but, gods, the smell .

It was all the worse because her eyes teared up. She looked like an amateur.

A small smile cracked her frightened facade.

Sometimes, looking like an amateur worked to her advantage.

Kerrigan jabbed out with her left hand, swirling the sand on the ground into a tight cyclone. She swung it in an arc before throwing it.

Bruiser’s eyes widened in shock as he dove out of the way of the maelstrom.

Too slow. The sand yanked him off his feet and threw him halfway across the ring.

He rolled over his shoulder and came back up in a crouch.

His beady eyes assessed her more strategically than when he’d casually tried to beat her face in.

Kerrigan was losing on purpose.

After nearly a dozen fights, she had learned that no one wanted the fight to end too soon. And no one wanted it to end without blood.

The only thing more important than Dozan Rook in these halls—blood.

Blood was the real king of the Wastes.

Bruiser hauled himself up onto his feet again. He shook the sand out of his dark hair and then ran toward her. His feet plodded hard against the packed earth. His hulking figure could make elephants look nimble. Still, she waited with her hands at her sides, ready to strike when he was closer.

Kerrigan lifted her hand and slashed downward, cutting the front of his shirt open. Blood welled dark red against the dull beige of his shirt. He slammed to a halt, staring down in bewilderment at the cut.

Cheers rang out overhead.

The uproarious, drunken crowd was chanting her name, “Red! Red! Red!”

“I’ll paint you red by the end of this,” Bruiser taunted. He flexed his muscles.

Kerrigan lifted her hands again and gestured him forward.

A rock slammed into the back of her head. She gasped and crumpled forward, landing hard on her hands. Her magic wavered in her veins as she blinked away the pain. She couldn’t see straight.

Not good. Scales , that hurt.

Kerrigan wrapped her magic around Bruiser’s ankles, yanking hard and fast, felling him like a tree.

He cried out in anger. Good . The fight had finally started.

She heard a whoosh and looked up in time to dodge the rock that would have crushed in the back of her skull. She rolled out from under it. Another gasp escaped her lungs. That had been too close.

Another rock crashed into her back as she tried to get up.

“Gods,” she groaned as she slammed back into the hard floor.

She rolled away again and came swiftly to her feet. Her back ached already.

Bruiser was smiling as if he were already victorious.

He raised his hands to the sky, pumping up the raucous crowd.

Kerrigan picked up the air again and slashed fiercely, the first cut through his bicep, the second down his thigh.

The third was supposed to hit his cheek, but he somehow flowed around the wind.

Her eyes widened. He’d trained with an air Fae? Doubly not good.

“That’s a neat trick,” she said.

Bruiser laughed as he weaved away from her and then threw dust right into her eyes. She slammed them shut on instinct, crying out in shock. There were no rules in the Wastes. Certainly none inside the Dragon Ring. But it was dirty play. Dirty, dirty play.

She blinked rapidly, tears welling as the grit ground into her eyes. Concentrating so hard on her eyes, she didn’t hear the rock that catapulted into her nose. Something snapped, and she cried out. Blood gushed from the wound.

Her eyes flashed cold death to her opponent. Now she wasn’t losing on purpose.

“Say good night, Red,” Bruiser said.

Kerrigan lifted her hand. She was barely able to see through the sand in her eyes, but her anger propelled her forward.

She froze the air around Bruiser and held him tight in her grasp so that he couldn’t even blink without her permission.

If she wanted, if she had the strength, she could crush him right where he stood.

Her hand shook, just holding him in place. It took an immense amount of power to be able to do what she was doing. More than she had claimed to have when she started this fight.

She needed to let him go. She needed to dispel her anger and release him. If she didn’t, she was going to pay for it later.

“Go back to the underworld you came from,” she growled.

She dropped her magic at the same time as she brought her knee up to his balls with a satisfying squelch. He doubled over in pain. She reared back and punched him in his face. He fell backward with the force of her strike. Her knuckles split, and she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.

But there was only one end here: the end where she won.

She stepped over Bruiser’s body and kicked him in the temple. A perfectly placed shot to knock him out but not kill him.

The crowd went wild. Cheers and shouts and objects fell from the sky above to litter the Dragon Ring while a man hobbled hastily into the ring and held her arm up.

“Winner goes to Red!”

After the fanfare, Kerrigan stumbled out of the fighting ring and into the back room, where typically, a small weasel of a man waited to give her the earnings from the fight.

That man wasn’t there.

In his place stood the owner and proprietor of the Wastes and the biggest crime lord in the city of Kinkadia—Dozan Rook.

“Dozan,” Kerrigan said through gritted teeth.

She could barely stand. Her nose ached from that last hit. It was definitely broken. Her back was probably already black and blue. Still, she straightened and held her chin up high. She would never let him see that on her.

“Red,” Dozan said with his cocky smirk.

“How can I help you?” she drawled lazily.

“You can take off that ridiculous headband. No one to hide from down here.”

Kerrigan frowned and tugged the gold headband free, releasing her bright red hair from its trapping and revealing the delicately pointed ears beneath. The ears that revealed her for what she truly was—half-Fae, half-human.

Full-blooded Fae had sharply pointed ears. And full-blooded Fae was the only right thing to be in Kinkadia.

Up above, in the city of Kinkadia, half-Fae were persecuted for their heritage.

They were looked down on by the High Fae and much of the ruling class.

Many believed that half-Fae shouldn’t even exist, especially if they had even a hint of magic.

She’d gotten used to hiding her true self.

When humans and half-Fae were being beaten in the streets, it was best to remain anonymous.

It was one of the main reasons that she felt so comfortable in the Wastes.

No one in this den of iniquity cared whether a person was human, half-Fae, or Fae.

They were all too high, drunk, or broke.

Unlike above, where she was ridiculed for being lesser , the Wastes had only ever drawn her in as their own.

She fought here, she made friends here, and despite her past business with Dozan, he protected her within this bed of sin.

“Do you have my winnings?” Kerrigan asked.

“I do indeed.”

Dozan slid his hand into the inside of his tailored black suit.

The cut accentuated his muscular build. He wore the white shirt with a black vest and jacket, complete with a Wastes red cravat at his neck.

His hand was nimble, producing a red velvet bag heavy with gold marks, like the ruthless pickpocket who had taken over the underground.

“Here you are.” He set the bag in her hand. It held way more than what she should have earned. His almost golden eyes glittered with defiance, as if waiting for her to suggest that it was too much money.

She did no such thing. She pocketed the bag and ignored the way he ran a hand back through burnished hair that showed more red than brown in the light. Not at all like hers. Not that she would ever admit to paying attention.

“You should consider working bigger fights,” Dozan said. “Use more than one element.”

Using only one element in the Dragon Ring kept her safe. She did it to keep a target off her back. Half-Fae and humans were notoriously low with magic use, but not her. She had access to all four elements. And the last thing she wanted was anyone else to know about her elemental prowess.

“I appreciate the offer, but no.”

“I could make it worth your while,” he said silkily. His gold eyes practically glowed in the light.

She swallowed against his infuriating charm.

“I believe that you would,” Kerrigan said dryly. “But no.”

He stepped toward her. Close enough that they shared breath.

She held her ground, tilting her chin in that defiance he so desired.

Dozan only did this to unnerve her, and she refused to play his games.

She wasn’t the same young girl who had landed at his feet five years ago. She’d never be that girl again.

“You know we could practice with your other power,” he all but whispered against her lips.

Kerrigan narrowed her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Haven’t had a dream recently, princess?”

Her body quivered with barely controlled restraint. Her split knuckles ached to ram into his smug face. “I am not a princess.”

“Come on, Ker,” he breathed softly around the edges of her name. “I find your powers fascinating.”

“Just because you saved my life five years ago doesn’t mean that I owe you a thing,” she hissed.

Dozan’s eyes dragged across her face, as if he were waiting for her to change her mind.

But she would never change her mind. Twice in the last five years, she’d had visions of the future.

She had never heard of anyone in all of Alandria ever possessing such a gift.

She would know; she had thoroughly perused the library to be sure.

Only children’s books spoke of such a gift, and in every one, the poor fairy-tale child had been hunted down and slain for their sight.

She wasn’t stupid enough to think she would be an exception in reality.

But Dozan had been there that unfortunate night and had never let her forget it.

“Fine.” Dozan shrugged once, returning to his overly cocky state of being. “What will you do with your winnings?”

“Same as usual.”

“Give it all back to me in drinks?”

“Not the worst way to spend the night.”

“Not the best,” he said, twirling a lock of her bright red hair around his fingers with a lascivious smile before disappearing up the stairs.