Page 39 of Storm Caller

“They must fight hand to hand with a senior officer,” Navy whispers to me.

“Oh,” I say as I glance over at Rook. His arms are folded as he regards Fisher, who’s making a show of mulling things over as he rubs his chin.

Then Fisher turns and bows to Rey. “Would you do me the honor, Lieutenant General?”

At that, the stands explode into a round of cheers as Rey offers him a feral grin. She’s already shucking off her jacket, revealing a fitted leather top and pants. “You’re on, soldier.”

Someone arrives to go over the rules and count down the start of the match. The crowd screams as Fisher and Rey hunch into fighting stances, and then they rush at each other.

At first, I wonder what sort of punishment this is. It’s kind of public, I guess, but it seems like they’re actually having fun. Fisher and Rey struggle together, jabbing, kicking, rolling across the ground.

From what I can tell, they’re pretty evenly matched. But then something shifts, and I realize that Rey was only hamming it up for the crowd.

Suddenly, she’s raining blows on him, her face twisted into fierce concentration.

She swings a fist, catching Fisher in the jaw. I feel a collective intake of breath as his blood sprays across the floor, darkening the dirt under their feet.

He’s lying on his back, gasping. It takes several seconds before he manages to sit up, rolling over to press his hands to the ground while he spits out a gob of blood and possibly a tooth. It’s hard to be sure.

“Get up, soldier!” Rey shouts as she bounces from left to right. “We aren’t done yet!”

Fisher staggers to his feet, and then they’re at it again, but he’s moving slowly, his reflexes lagging. Rey delivers a blow to his stomach, and he folds over before she elbows him in the back, and he drops like a sack of bricks.

Now he isn’t moving at all.

His eye is swollen, and blood leaks from his nose and mouth.

“Do you yield?” Rey shouts, a fist raised over her head. She seems barely winded, her face almost free of sweat, and only a few of her smoothed blond hairs have been tugged out of place.

“Oh,” I say. “So, this is the punishment?”

“Public ass-whooping,” Navy answers with a grin.

I watch as Fisher lifts a weak hand and pounds the earth three times to the sound of clapping and cheers.

“We’re done!” Rey yells as a pair of medics arrives to retrieve Fisher on a stretcher. The mixed sound of boos and cheering follows him out of the arena.

Rey wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, spins around, and points to the far end of the cavern. “Athira! You’re up!”

13

Another loud roar echoes through the arena. Rook appears subdued as he approaches the center, stopping before Rey, his hands hanging loose at his sides.

“First Lieutenant,” she says with a smirk. “Who’s your pick?”

Again, everyone erupts into shouting and excitement, people suggesting various names and just generally shit-talking. I notice Navy and Justin have tensed up as they watch their brother. They didn’t seem this worried about Fisher, and I wonder if they expect Rook’s punishment to be worse, or maybe they aren’t as close.

“What’s going on?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Navy says. “I just hate it when he fights.”

That makes two of us.

I turn to face Rook, still looking good enough to eat, as he runs a hand through his hair, his biceps flexing. The dark makeup lends him a dangerous, mysterious look. I’m a little obsessed.

“Ugh,” Navy says, and I glance over at her pained expression. “Get that look off your face. I don’t need to imagine all the filthy thoughts about my brother going on in your head.”

“There was no look!” I protest, which causes Navy to grimace and then burst into laughter. Even Justin smiles, and I feel my cheeks warm.