Page 26

Alaysia

Alaysia gripped the railing of the viewing box, her knuckles white as she watched Dernin stumble forward. His movements were sluggish, uncoordinated—nothing like his usual grace. Her heart pounded as Bariv landed another brutal hit.

“Something’s wrong,” she whispered to Marcella. “Look at how he’s moving.”

Marcella leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “The wine. They must have drugged his glass.”

Below, Dernin’s tail lashed out, but the strike missed Bariv by inches. The crowd roared as Bariv countered with impossible speed, his muscles rippling with an unnatural sheen.

“And look at Bariv,” Alaysia hissed through clenched teeth. “He’s moving faster than ever. They enhanced him too. Didn’t they?”

“Wouldn’t put it past Fyret.” Marcella’s voice dripped with disgust. “He’s got too much riding on this fight to leave it to chance.”

Dernin swayed, barely dodging a punch that would have knocked him unconscious. Alaysia’s stomach twisted into knots as she spotted blood trickling from gashes above his eyes. Those same eyes that had looked at her with such tenderness last night now seemed glazed and unfocused.

“We have to do something,” Alaysia said, starting to rise from her seat.

Marcella grabbed her arm. “And what exactly would that be? Get yourself killed trying to stop the fight?”

“I can’t just watch them destroy him!” The words came out as a choked whisper. “After everything he’s done, everything we’ve...” She touched her lips, remembering their kiss from that morning.

Below, Bariv slammed Dernin against the wall of the ring. The impact echoed through the arena, drawing cheers from the bloodthirsty crowd.

“Come on, Dernin,” Alaysia murmured, pressing her hands together. “Fight it. Please fight it.”

She watched in horror as Bariv’s enhanced strength sent Dernin reeling again. Fyret stood at the edge of the ring, a satisfied smirk playing across his face. The sight made her want to tear him apart.

“Bastard,” she spat.

Suddenly, Alaysia noticed Dernin pushing himself away from the wall, his golden scales glinting under the arena lights.

Something had shifted in his stance. Gone was the drugged stumbling, replaced by a deadly focus.

His hand brushed against his wrist where her hair was tied, and his jaw set with renewed determination.

“Look!” She grabbed Marcella’s arm. “He’s fighting it off!”

Dernin’s tail whipped out, catching Bariv mid-stride. The Jorvlen stumbled, his enhanced strength working against him as he overbalanced. Dernin lunged forward, moving with calculated precision rather than brute force.

“That’s it!” Alaysia jumped to her feet, no longer caring about proper decorum. “Show him what a real warrior can do!” she screamed.

Below, Bariv lunged with his artificially enhanced speed, but Dernin was ready. He twisted aside, using Bariv’s momentum to send him sprawling. The crowd’s roar grew deafening.

“You’re supposed to remain neutral,” Marcella reminded her, though her eyes sparkled with approval.

“To hell with that.” Alaysia leaned over the railing. “Come on, Dernin!”

Her heart soared as Dernin executed a complex series of strikes, each one precisely targeted at Bariv’s weak points. He wasn’t just fighting anymore. He was strategizing.

Bariv’s enhanced strength sent Dernin skidding back several feet, but he recovered instantly, his tail coiling beneath him for support. Blood still trickled from his wounds, but his golden eyes burned with clarity.

“He’s wearing Bariv down,” Alaysia whispered, hope blooming in her chest. “Look how he’s making him waste energy.”

She caught Fyret’s scowl from his viewing box and felt a fierce satisfaction. Let him witness his plans crumbling. Let him watch as Dernin proved stronger than any drug.

“Fight, my love,” she murmured, pressing her hand to her heart. “Fight.”

Alaysia held her breath as Dernin’s tail swept Bariv’s legs out from under him.

Bariv crashed to the ground with a resounding thud that echoed through the arena.

Before he could recover, Dernin pinned him, his muscled arms holding Bariv down while his powerful tail coiled tightly around Bariv’s legs.

“Yield,” Dernin commanded, his voice carrying clearly.

Bariv struggled, his enhanced muscles straining, but Dernin’s hold was unbreakable. After several tense moments, Bariv slowly slapped the ground three times—the signal of surrender.

The crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Alaysia squealed with joy, throwing her arms around Marcella and bouncing on her toes. She didn’t care about maintaining a dignified appearance anymore.

“He did it! He actually did it!” Alaysia’s heart felt like it might burst from her chest. Her eyes stayed fixed on Dernin as he rose, his golden scales reflecting the light. Despite the blood and bruises marring his skin, he stood tall and proud.

“Well, would you look at that,” Marcella said, squeezing Alaysia’s shoulders. “Your warrior pulled through.”

“My warrior,” Alaysia repeated softly, savoring the words. She watched as Dernin bowed to the crowd, his movements still graceful despite his injuries. Pride swelled in her chest at how he’d overcome the drugged wine through sheer determination and skill.

The referee raised Dernin’s arm in victory, and Alaysia noticed him touch the strands of her hair still tied around his wrist. Her heart melted at the gesture.

“I can’t believe we’ll actually be together now,” she whispered, more to herself than Marcella. Tears of joy pricked at her eyes. “After everything they tried to do to stop him...”

“He fought for you,” Marcella said, smiling knowingly. “Love’s a powerful motivator.”

“It is.” Alaysia touched her lips. Now she could kiss him whenever she wanted, hold him close without hiding. The thought made her giddy with happiness.

Dernin’s golden eyes found hers across the arena. Even at this distance, she could see the warmth in his gaze, the silent promise in his slight smile. He had won her freedom—their freedom to be together—through courage, honor, and an unbreakable spirit.

Alaysia’s gaze then drifted to Fyret’s private viewing box.

Satisfaction flooded through her at the rage contorting his features.

His knuckles whitened against the railing as he glared down at the ring where Dernin stood victorious.

The kingpin’s usual smug composure had cracked, revealing the petty tyrant beneath.

“Look at him squirm,” she whispered to Marcella, unable to keep the smile from her voice. “All that planning, all those tricks, and Dernin still won.”

Marcella clicked her tongue. “Don’t get cocky. Fyret’s not one to take defeat gracefully.”

“What can he do? The whole underground saw Dernin win fair and square—well, more than fair considering they drugged him.” Alaysia smoothed the silk of her dress, relishing how the kingpin’s carefully orchestrated spectacle had backfired.

Below, attendants helped Bariv limp from the ring while Dernin accepted the victor’s wreath. The contrast between them couldn’t have been starker—Bariv defeated despite his chemical advantages, Dernin standing tall through skill and determination alone.

“A true warrior indeed,” Alaysia murmured, watching Dernin’s golden scales shimmer in the light. Her heart swelled with pride and something deeper, warmer.

“You’re glowing,” Marcella observed.

Heat crept up Alaysia’s neck. “I’m just happy justice prevailed.”

“Mhmm.” Marcella’s tone dripped with skepticism. “Nothing to do with those heated looks you two keep sharing?”

Alaysia’s gaze returned to Fyret’s box, where the kingpin now conferred intensely with his advisors, his face dark with fury. She should have felt afraid of his obvious anger, but all she felt was triumph. Even with all his power and influence, he couldn’t stop what was meant to be.

“Time to get you ready.” Marcella tugged at Alaysia’s arm. “We need to head down to the fighters’ tunnel.”

Alaysia’s heart fluttered as they descended the narrow stone steps. The musty air of the underground carried the metallic scent of blood mixed with sweat. Usually, these smells made her stomach turn, but today they reminded her of Dernin’s victory.

“Here, let me fix your hair.” Marcella pulled a comb from her pocket. “Can’t have the champion’s prize looking disheveled.”

Alaysia stood still as Marcella worked, but her mind wandered to Dernin. His determination, his strength, the way he’d fought through the drug’s effects. A smile tugged at her lips. Everyone thought she was the prize, but they had it backward. Dernin was her prize… from the universe.

“What’s that look for?” Marcella’s fingers worked swiftly through her red waves.

“Just thinking how wrong Fyret got everything.” The torchlight cast shadows on the tunnel walls. “He thought making me a prize would break my spirit. Instead, it led me to someone who actually sees me as valuable.”

Marcella secured the last strand of Alaysia’s hair. “Well, don’t let anyone else see you looking at Dernin like that until after the ceremony. We still need to play our parts.”

“I know.” Alaysia straightened her shoulders, adopting the demure pose expected of a prize.

The sounds of the crowd above filtered down through the stone as they chanted Dernin’s name. Her champion. Her warrior. Her true prize.