Leo doesn’t argue. Everyone knows Ares hates attention. Even I know it, and I’m barely an acquaintance.
“What about you, Hedeon?” Leo calls down the table.
Hedeon is a pretty good fighter—the fact that he can hold his own with Silas is proof of that, even if he only wins one out of four fights.
“Fuck that,” Hedeon snarls, shoving away his tray. “Not interested.”
He might be offended that Leo didn’t ask him earlier. It came off like he was the fourth choice, after Dean and Ares and maybe Kenzo Tanaka.
Or he’s just having one of his days. I don’t know what his problem is, but Hedeon seems to suffer from a particular brand of bipolar that vacillates between mildly grouchy and full-out homicidal.
We accept Hedeon’s outbursts like we accept Ares’ modesty. It’s a part of them and not likely to change.
The morning of the second challenge dawns bright and clear with a light breeze. Perfect weather for sitting outdoors.
As I leave the Undercroft, Rakel says to me, “Don’t forget to index the source materials for our History paper.”
I agreed to do the indexing if Rakel proofread my paper.
“I tried yesterday,” I tell her. “But I can’t find any book that has replicas of Shimizu Jirocho’s letters.”
“They’re not in a book,” Rakel says, that old note of why-are-you-so-fucking-dumb creeping back into her voice. “They’re down in the archives. Ask Miss Robin to get them for you. Or Saul—he’s a library aide. He’s allowed down there.”
“I will,” I promise.
“But meet me at the computer lab first, ‘cause that project’s due tomorrow.”
“Right.” I nod. “Lab first, library after.”
I’ve been doing a lot of my schoolwork with Rakel, and my grades have improved somewhat. She’s bossy, but she has a better background on subjects like the history of the mafia clans. I’m picking up some of the chemistry and programming faster than her, so we’re useful to each other.
I hurry to breakfast, and then I follow Zoe through the stone gates to the outdoor bleachers assembled around the boxing ring. I’m glad I get to sit with Zoe and her usual group of friends.
For once Leo gets to sit back and watch a challenge, instead of having to orchestrate the victory. I’m not sure he prefers it this way—he looks tense and nervy, even with Anna cuddled up next to him.
Chay and Ozzy sit on their other side. You might think they were a couple, if Chay didn’t keep protesting otherwise. She looks plenty comfortable leaning against Ozzy’s shoulder while she chats with Anna. Ozzy finally got his bandage off, but his arm looks awful—the skin a mat of puckered scar tissue, mottled red and purple, only half-healed. The scars darker in the patches that used to be tattoos.
Hedeon and Ares sit in the row in front of ours. I don’t see Miles anywhere—I ask Zoe what he’s doing. She shrugs, unconcerned. “I’m sure he’ll be along soon enough.”
The Sophomores, Juniors, and Seniors mostly cluster in their respective groups so they can cheer for their fighters. The Freshmen have already been eliminated, so it doesn’t matter where we sit or who we support.
I’m cheering for the Sophomores, though the only fighter I know is Dean, who terrifies me.
Leo ended up selecting Dean Yenin, Silas Gray, and Kenzo Tanaka. The Juniors picked Kasper Markaj, an Albanian Enforcer who Zoe tells me was a team Captain in last year’s Quartum Bellum.
“He’s decent and hardworking,” she says. “It was a shame his team was eliminated so early. I know he felt bad about it.”
Their other fighter is Jasper Webb, the boy with the skeletal tattoos who harassed Chay during my first breakfast at Kingmakers. The one who helped hold my sister down while Rocco cut her clothes off. Needless to say, I fucking hate him and hope he gets his face pounded in the first round.
The Seniors selected Calvin Caccia, an Italian Heir who Zoe says was also a Captain last year.
“I don’t like him as much,” Zoe tells me. “He’s arrogant and rude, and he’s got a grudge against Leo.”
“So do a lot of people,” Leo says, from the other side of Anna. “Don’t hold that against him. If you hate everybody who hates me, you won’t have many friends left.”
Zoe laughs. Leo may have enemies, but he’s still one of the most popular students at our school.
“Who are the other two?” I nod down toward the last two fighters warming up at the edge of the ring. One is a tall black guy with a ripped physique and a shaved head. The other is beastly in size, but he looks more fat than muscular.
“That’s Zeke Golden and Lee Sparks,” Anna says. “Zeke is skilled. And don’t be fooled by the extra fluff—Lee’s no slouch, either.”
The fighters reach their hands into a sack to pull out an opponent’s name. Leo gives an irritated grunt when Silas draws Lee Sparks, and another when Dean is paired up with Zeke Golden. It’s bad luck that two of the Sophomore fighters will have to face experienced Seniors. Kenzo Tanaka draws Jasper Webb. The two previous Captains—Kasper Markaj and Calvin Caccia—are the first to enter the ring.
The fight is swift and decisive, Kasper easily outclassing Calvin Caccia, ending with a TKO after only one round.
“Ha!” Zoe cries, not having dropped her dislike of Calvin. “Good for Kasper. Bet that makes him feel better about last year.”
Silas and Lee Sparks face off next. It’s a battle of titans, the two heaviest fighters charging each other like bulls, clinching and thrashing around as if their horns are locked. Each time one throws the other to the ground, the crash echoes around the bleachers.
Hedeon is sitting right in front of me, close enough that he could rest his spine against my shins if he leaned back. He watches Silas swing his heavy ham-like fists into his opponent’s face. With every blow his brother lands, Hedeon flinches. His skin has turned almost as gray as his name.
Silas wins, but only at a heavy cost. He’s battered and bleeding, not that it seems to bother him any. Lee looks even worse and has to be helped out of the ring and taken directly to the infirmary.
Hedeon rests his face in his hands, looking ill.
I want to ask if he’s okay, but I don’t dare do it.
“You want a drink?” Ares says, passing over a bottle of water.
Hedeon raises his face, wild-eyed and angry, like he’s going to snarl at Ares. He stops himself, just barely.
“Thanks,” he mutters, taking the water and drinking it down.
Dean is up next, against Zeke Golden.
Tension sweeps the crowd. The Seniors have already lost two of their fighters—if Zeke doesn’t win, they’ll lose the challenge and be eliminated from the Quartum Bellum.
The pressure is visible on Zeke’s rigid frame, and on Dean as well. Both fighters look strained as they climb into the ring. Unlike the first two pairings, both Dean and Zeke are experienced boxers, hands wrapped with professional care, both falling naturally into their stance before Professor Howell has even tapped the starting bell.
“Fucking hell,” Anna breathes as the fight begins.
Dean and Zeke are so fast that I can hardly keep track as they attack each other with rapid, intricate combinations. This is the difference between trained and highly-trained, boxers vs. brawlers. The crowd collectively holds their breath, the punches landing too fast even for cheers.