The Night Out- Episode Two

"I have to marry a wealthy man," I confess. It's probably the ale but I don't care anymore. "My step-father is greedy, and he won't let me have anything less."

Oh, wait. No, I suppose that's not true anymore, is it? In the midst of all the things that aren't going my way right now, I forgot Death and his situation are no longer a problem.

"Lucky for you, I'm disgustingly rich," Kastien says.

"And you're content with being a consolation prize?"

"You get used to it when living in the palace with the king."

I fold my arms. "I was under the impression that the king didn't show an interest in any ladies before I came to court."

"He doesn't have to. They still want him and have to settle for me. But I'm sure you won't have that problem."

The second glass of ale is placed before me. This one manages to taste better than the first.

"He won't break his rules," I say. "Not even for me." The ale must be freeing my tongue a bit, but I can't seem to care too much.

"The no-touching is a problem?"

I hide my face behind my glass. "Women have needs just as much as men do."

Kastien's teeth show as he raises his cup. "Perhaps he only needs you to make the first move."

"And end up at the gallows? I think not."

"Then you will have to find someone else to satisfy those needs. At least in the meantime."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I am a man of base interests. Ale. Sport. Sex. I have want of nothing else."

"I can't imagine why you don't already have a lady of your own."

"All evidence to the contrary," he says, swaying his mug toward me.

A delicious cloudiness fills my mind, and I find myself offering more smiles to Kastien than I normally would.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I ask.

"Even if I were, it wouldn't be to take advantage. Only to help you have a better time. Now come!"

He rises from his seat and grabs one of my hands. I raise my cup to down the rest of its contents, only to find it already empty. How did that happen?

My feet are only slightly unsteady when Kastien and I push into the crowd circling the newest contenders. We manage to squeeze our way to the front. The big brute still remains undefeated.

"Watching is only half the fun!" Kastien shouts to be heard over the shrieks within the room. "Winning is the true sport."

A young boy no older than twelve runs around the outer circle, carrying a large goblet in front of him. "Place your bets here! Ten to one odds for our newest contender!"

A smaller man with a crooked nose has entered the circle of onlookers. After stripping off his shirt, he windmills his arms and bounces from foot to foot.

Leandros holds out a note. "Ten necos says the brute wins."

"Not very sporting of you, sir," the boy says in return, accepting the money and stuffing it into the cup.

"I bet to win."

"And how about the missus? Will you be placing a bet? Do be sporting and root for the smaller man! He may surprise us yet!"

I survey both contenders carefully, watching their movements. The one with the crooked nose is so much smaller, but he is fresh, where the brute has expended much energy already. Still, the larger man looks as though he could pick up Crooked Nose and bend him in half with little effort.

I'm about to decline the bet, when I notice something.

The brute stretches his arms out in front of him, but as he does so, he winces ever so slightly, before rubbing a hand over his right side.

Bruised ribs, likely. Though he's winning the matches, he's taken a few hits. They're wearing on him.

"Why not?" I say finally. "Shall we say…" I make a show of rummaging through my pockets. "Twenty-five necos on the little man?"

"A fine bet, miss!" the lad says, ripping the money greedily from my fingers and then scampering off quickly, as though afraid I'll change my mind.

"That was foolish," Leandros says. "You know the boy is only given scraps of what the owner wins off the bets."

"I didn't do it out of charity for the boy. I intend to win."

His scoff turns into a laugh. "I don't want you sour for the rest of the night. You'll blame me for the loss of all your money."

I roll my eyes, and we turn to watch the match. The contestants stand up to a line drawn on the floor and wait for a mediator to slap his hand on the ground before the two tear into each other.

Crooked Nose is quick on his feet, sending jabs at the brute before scampering out of reach. The brute watches him carefully, keeping his eyes on his outstretched fists. After a duck, he brings forward a left fist and connects squarely with the smaller man's chest. He flies back several feet but doesn't lose his footing.

Crooked Nose cracks his neck to the side before plunging forward, throwing a fist toward the brute's face. The larger man shifts out of the way and throws a punch to Crooked Nose's stomach.

He goes down right in front of me.

The floor goes wild. Shouts of "Pontin, Pontin, Pontin" resound, and I assume that must be the brute.

"Get up!" a few voices beg, trying to encourage the young man struggling for breath on the ground.

"Better luck next time," Kastien says to me with a shrug.

But this isn't over yet. I step forward, grab Crooked Nose by his sweaty arm, and yank him to his feet. He leans against me as a huge gulp of air finally whistles through his lungs.

"Now listen," I say in a low growl. "I have a lot of money placed on you, and you're not going to let me lose it, are you?"

"He's too strong, miss," the man says with unsteady breaths.

"He's got at least one bruised rib on the right side. Quit aiming for his face and take a swing lower. Break. His. Bones." Without another word, I get behind him and toss him into the fray.

Kastien wrinkles his nose. "You smell of sweaty male."

"As if you could smell anything over the stench of ale on my breath."

"Would that I were close enough to smell your breath, but—"

The fight continues, and Kastien doesn't finish his sentence. Not as the small contender feints toward Pontin with a left fist toward the head before immediately following with a powerful jab to the ribs.

Spittle goes flying out of Pontin's mouth, but Crooked Nose doesn't stop there. With a flurry of quick punches, he pummels Pontin as ruthlessly as a baker would knead dough.

In only seconds, the bigger man falls.

He doesn't rise.

The crowd silences.

I lift my skirts as I step over the brute and raise my little contender's fist into the air. Then the noise is explosive, my ears fit to bursting from the force of it. Notes and coins trade hands in a flurry, and the winner leans over to plant a bloody kiss on my cheek.

I'm too high off the victory to care.

Satisfied, I return to my spot, and the boy with the cup is back, brandishing an enormous wad of notes at me.

"Two hundred and fifty necos, miss. An excellent wager. But wouldn't you like to place it on the next match? No one is that lucky only once in the games. You've a natural eye for talent! What say I keep this for you and place it on your victor once again?"

"Maybe next time," I say, taking my money and tucking it away.

I can't keep the smug smile from my lips as I turn to Kastien.

"What did you say to him?" he asks, looking dumbfounded at his champion lying still on the floor.

"He only needed a lady's favor to find the courage to win the fight."

The mediator quiets the room with a whistle. "Who will fight our new champion? Who's ready to earn some money in the ring?"

I reach for Kastien's arm to hoist it into the air for him, but he snatches it back. "I am quite content with watching."

I let out a giggle, the ale still doing wonderful things for my head, as we watch a new contestant enter the circle. Though I don't place any more money, Kastien and I make our own private bets on who will win.