Page 13 of Sands of Atonement

My eyes darted back to the platform to my left, and my toes began to tap on the low wooden platform we stood on.

The two men who won their rounds received an outburst of cheers from the bloodthirsty crowds, and purses of coins were given to them. They pumped their fists in the air as the other two men who had lost were dragged out of the arena, unconscious.

I licked my lips. I wondered what it would be like to exchange different techniques. What could I learn from these men?

An announcer held his hand up to the crowd, silencing them. He was a tall man who had a trimmed beard and was bald with a thick middle. “Rageed will not be playing tonight as he has not fully recovered from last week.”

The crowd booed, and a few stood to leave the wooden platforms while throwing food into the arena.

“We are looking for a man to replace him. Do we have any volunteers?” he shouted.

He raised his arms beside him as he took a spin, eyeing the common people. He lifted his brows with a cocky grin across his face.

Tempting. Ezra wasn’t here, and I could use the practice.

My boot tapped on the platform. I shouldn’t…

But I could, I sang in my head.

My lips turned upward, and I jumped down the steps to the center of the arena.

Chapter 4

Eshe

The crowds went still as I approached the man.

To them, I was merely a weak boy with little arms and a small frame, until I surprised them with my velocity. And they didn’t know the best part was that I was a woman.

The blasphemy!

“Boy, are you sure you want to do this?” The announcer raised his eyebrows at me and kept his grinning face on.

I nodded, passing the announcer as I met my opponent. He was tall—of course—beast-like, with tattoos across his chest. He scoffed and shook his long-haired head.

We moved in a circle, studying each other’s movements. I kept my knees bent, staying light on my feet, ready for anything.

But I wasn’t going to be doing this silly dance for long. I ducked and swung my leg into his outer thigh. He went for me simultaneously, crossing his fist through the air. I missed his advance with my own maneuver and threw an elbow into his side with as much force as I could muster.

He stumbled to the side, but not by much. His jaw twitched as he cracked his neck to the left. He hadn’t touched me yet. I wondered what he was thinking.

A moment later, he crossed an arm only to lean in further with his next fist. I dodged out of his range, shoving the back of my elbow into his other side. This time, he landed an iron fist into my ribs, and I stumbled. His next fist connected with my face, and it sent a pleasant thrill through my body.

The crowd was cheering for the man, shouting his name. “Corrah! Corrah!”

This gave him a boost of confidence, and he stepped with the wrong foot. I took the opportunity and slammed my knee into his thigh, twisting his leg inward, and threw a palm up into his nose—crack—and shoved my other elbow into his cheek.

He plummeted to the ground a second later, echoing against the silence of the crowd.

Corrah! Corrah! I sang in my head and rolled my eyes.

“Well done, small beast.” The announcer smirked. He seemed genuinely surprised as he handed me my prize money.

Though most of the crowd was growing restless, I heard a few cheers for me. Small beast.

I’d give just about anything to see their reactions to a woman being the one they were cheering for. The atrocity of having one step into their arena. But it was not worth risking my sweet revenge.

“You are something, I will give you that,” the announcer muttered with his hands on his hips.