pissed it away. I’m not trying to boast, but She seemed quite taken with me. At least make it a challenge.”
Flynn laughed smugly, then glanced around the table, taking in the strained silence. “This is awkward. I suppose we have to stomach these fucks for the day.”
“An inevitable byproduct of our circumstances,” Raphael muttered.
“Well then, if we have to tolerate one another, might as well make it enjoyable. How about a game? Who do you think will win the tournament? Besides yourself, of course. If you’re not to win, who will it be? It’ll be fun.”
“Or it’ll be a disaster,” Orion said.
“Nonsense, you old cock.” Flynn shoved Orion’s arm. “Artist, you start. If it can’t be you, who stands as Champion?”
Tobias rolled his eyes. “You, of course. As if there’s any other answer.”
“Good man.” Flynn beamed. “Hunter, you’re next.”
“Pass.”
“Oh, don’t be such a withered tit—”
“I’ll play.” Kaleo moseyed their way, a grin plastered across his face.
Raphael mumbled under his breath, “God, here we go…”
Kaleo sat on the corner of the table. “Let’s see, if I’m not to be Champion, who will it be…” He pursed his lips, thinking. “Drake, of course. Look at him, he’s a brick wall. No one can tear him down. Now, I imagine at least one of you gentlemen will be standing alongside us in the final challenge, but let’s be reasonable. If I don’t kill you, it will most certainly be our Dragon. And given his size and disposition, I’d wager he’d crush you to bits. Painfully, I’m sure.”
Kaleo’s laughter bounced off the walls, the other men quiet and tense.
“You’re right, this is fun.” He turned to Drake. “Dragon, it’s your turn. Go on. Who wins if not you?”
Drake said nothing, wearing his usual callous glare.
“Of course,” Kaleo said. “Tightlipped as always. Well then, who else wants a go at it—?”
“There is no answer,” Drake grumbled.
All heads turned toward him, even Kaleo. “Come again?”
“There is no answer,” Drake said. “This game is pointless. I will be Champion. There are no other alternatives.”
Flynn glowered. “You’re awfully confident.”
Drake’s steely gaze panned his way. “I wear the mark. I am untouchable.” He pointed to his tattooed chest. “Immortality. You cannot defeat what cannot be killed.”
Garrick laughed from across the table. “You sure that mark of yours hasn’t rubbed off on this fat fuck?” He threw an arm around Bjorne’s shoulders. “Have you seen him in the challenges? Gets beaten left and right, and still he walks away like it’s nothing. To hell with your marks. The Bear here, he’s the immortal one.”
Drake stood from his seat, sending the men around him jumping. “You deny my power?”
Garrick wavered. “Huh?”
“You dare to question me?” He made his way toward Garrick, cocking his head at Bjorne. “To compare me to this worthless cunt?”
“Bloody fuck, it was a joke—”
“I am immortal. Anyone who challenges that will find their blood spilled at my feet.”
With a growl, Drake plodded back to his seat, while Kaleo chuckled, immune to the discomfort. “What a grand time we’re having! This game gets better and better. Are there any other predictions?”
The men sat stiffly, not bothering to say a word.
“No one?” Kaleo glanced around the table, stopping at Tobias. “What about the Artist?”
There wasn’t time to answer. Wembleton scurried into the atrium with two young guards trailing him, and in their hands were a bevy of tall, wooden staffs.
“Oh good, you’re all here.” Wembleton flashed a smile at the competitors. “All right, gentlemen, gather ’round. Into formation.”
He waited as the men hurried into a line, beaming with delight. “Today is a very exciting day. Well, tomorrow’s an exciting day, but today we prepare for it, which is exciting in itself. Tomorrow you’ll participate in one of Thessen’s grandest traditions: the Reverence. You’re familiar, yes?”
Flynn and Garrick nodded, while the other men wore blank expressions.
Wembleton’s face dropped. “Oh. Interesting. Well, the Reverence is an absolute spectacle, one of the most anticipated events of the tournament. After the final competitors reach the palace, a ceremony is held in their honor just beyond the fortress. There, the realm will gaze at the gods before them, will cheer for their strength and valor. Hear my words, the Reverence is much more than a simple ceremony. It is a declaration of manhood.”
Some of the men held their heads high, but Tobias kept still. Gods—standing in obedient formation, bending to the will of a man who smiled at their yielding.
“Today, we choreograph. The crowd thirsts for entertainment, and we must deliver, yes?” Wembleton clasped