Chapter 64

Rowena

The gymnasium erupted with excited cheers as the first friendly match kicked off. I leaned forward eagerly, gripping the edge of my seat as two contestants—one wearing white, the other in our camp’s navy blue color—began circling one another on the mat.

Beside me, I felt Emma tense up. I glanced over to see her gripping the edge of the bench, her mouth set in a hard line and a determined look in her eyes. But she wasn’t looking at our warrior in navy blue.

She was looking at the one in white.

In fact, upon a second glance, I realized that I recognized the warrior in white from a picture she had shown me.

I shot her an amused look. “Why didn’t you mention that your boyfriend was competing today?”

She shrugged, glancing over at me with a bashful look in her eyes. “I don’t want anyone to know that I’m secretly cheering for the other team, that’s all,” she muttered.

I couldn’t help but smirk. “You do realize that if he wins, he gets to take one of the cheerleaders out on a date, right?”

Emma’s cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson. “No, I… I mean, I do realize that, but…” Her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

I arched an eyebrow, struggling to smother my smile. “You do want him to win though, right?”

“Oh my god, you’re insufferable.” Sinking down in her seat, Emma swatted my arm in mock annoyance; but there was no real heat in the gesture, and there was certainly no hiding her own smirk, either.

We dissolved into a bout of laughter after that, the atmosphere between us lighter than it had ever been. It still felt strange to consider Emma my friend; but I was glad for it. And despite the angry look shot at us from Heather across the room, I was happy to have the company over here on the bench.

On the mat, the two warriors continued trading blows, each attack parried and deflected with well-practiced precision. Emma winced in sympathy whenever her boyfriend took a hit, her whole body tightening with anxious tension.

“Come on, Liam,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “Come on…”

I couldn’t help but be impressed by his skills—and the skills of our own warrior, for that matter. The warrior in blue from our school was ruthlessly aggressive, constantly on the offensive as he pummeled the taller, bulkier Liam with a relentless barrage of kicks and strikes.

“He’s aggressive,” I found myself saying with a furrowed brow as I watched the fight. “Too aggressive.”

Emma swallowed, wincing as she watched Liam narrowly avoid a kick straight to the hip. “You’re telling me.”

I knew that I should be rooting for our team, but this warrior was indeed aggressive; I vaguely recognized him from around camp, although I didn’t know much about his fighting style. He was quick due to not being very tall, but his short stature also allowed him to put on more muscle, so he was powerful. He really had the best of both worlds.

That was the thing about short-statured warriors—they were often quicker, leading to better evasion during hand-to-hand combat. Liam, on the other hand, was tall; he was muscular, but his height made him just a fraction slower than the other warrior.

And in hand-to-hand combat, fractions were important.

Suddenly, one harsh kick finally connected with Liam’s outstretched arm, snapping his wrist backwards at an unnatural angle with an audible crack that was muffled amongst the sounds of the combat and the crowd.

But from where we sat, both Emma and I could hear it. Emma gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her boyfriend dropped into a defensive crouch, cradling his injured limb against his chest.

“He’s still going,” Emma hissed, turning to me with eyes as wide as saucers. “Rowena, he’s still fighting. If he doesn’t—”

“I know.”

He should tap out, I thought dimly even as the aggressive warrior from our camp pressed his advantage and continued raining blows down on Liam’s back. Liam was clearly hurt, although he was trying to hide it.

Emma shook my arm. “Rowena, someone needs to stop the match before—”

“Time out!”

The shout ripped out of my mouth before I even realized I had made the decision to move. Grabbing my medical bag, I vaulted over the short barrier and bolted out onto the mat, running with a speed I didn’t even know I possessed.

I held my hands out, signaling a time out and causing the two warriors to stop and look up just as our camp’s warrior was about to land a finishing blow on the injured Liam.

A shocked hush fell over the previously raucous crowd as I skidded to a halt between the two fighters, my hands raised in a placating gesture.

“You need to cease combat immediately,” I said firmly, meeting our warrior’s eyes. He glared back at me, fists still raised defiantly, but I didn’t let him intimidate me. “That was an illegal strike. He’s severely injured—the match is over.”

With a low growl, the warrior finally lowered his fists and spat on the mat, causing a ripple of gasps to make their way through the crowd. He said something, although I couldn’t quite hear it over the rush of blood in my ears. Finally, he stalked away and I turned to begin inspecting Liam.

Liam grunted something unintelligible through gritted teeth, shooting me a heated look of protest. Despite the awkward angle of his wrist and the pallor draining from his face, the stubborn idiot clearly wanted to keep fighting.

“No, no, let me keep going,” he growled. “I’ve got this. I had him on the ropes…”

I knelt beside him, leaning in close so only he could hear my murmured words. “Part of being a warrior is recognizing your limits,” I said, keeping my voice low and soothing. “There’s no shame in needing help.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion. A tremor ran through him, his muscles twitching with the effort of containing his agony. But still, he shook his head. “I could have kept fighting.”

“No, you couldn’t have. It’s okay to show your pain,” I continued as I began rifling through my bag for supplies to tend to his clearly-fractured wrist. “It doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it makes you stronger… because it means you know when to listen to your body.”

Liam’s eyelids fluttered as his jaw clenched, taut with defiance. But then, he glanced beyond me toward Emma—who was standing by the sidelines, her eyes wide and her necklace clutched in her hand. Finally, he tipped his head in a shallow nod.

“Thank you,” he rasped.

As the other combat managers rushed forward to get him to the infirmary, I straightened and took an involuntary step back… only to freeze when I noticed the empty space beside the bench where my discarded crutches sat abandoned.

I had bolted across the gym without them. I had made it all the way to Liam without so much as a twinge in my ankle, somehow instinctively forgetting my need for the support.

How the hell had I managed that?