The quartet walked towards the exit, with excited and hushed mortals looking eager for a blood bath. Feyre seemed disgusted by how willing they were to see two people beat each other up, most of all she felt absolutely terrified for her sister's fate.
A few of the helpers in the tavern helped bring out chairs and the bartenders brought out drinks for the wealthy customers. A few others set up the ring by pouring sand to soften the ground and placed sacks in a circle marking the boundary.
The excited chatter rose in sound as a large, muscled, burly man with inked tattoos over his arms stepped into the circle while the tipsy man who made the deal stood there with a proud grin on his face. Men and women placed their bets on the win tonight- it was obvious that most of it went to the man who looked like he would most likely win.
He walked right into the centre of the ring and showed off his muscles by ripping his thin shirt off. The crowd's cheers rose and many women ran their eyes over his half-naked body.
The cheers quietened suddenly before the crowd cheered louder than what they did for the muscled man. Mortals from all social classes, ages and gender stood around to watch, but no one could deny that the cheers were far louder, even the air tightened in tension.
Rhysand pulled a few strings and made sure that they got the spot right in the front.
The crowd parted as a figure walked through and Feyre plugged her sensitive ears as the screaming rose again, some screaming Niravi's name and others shouting encouragements.
Niravi walked slow, each step calculated. Her bare feet shifted the loose sand on the floor, leaving a trail of dust behind her. One of her ankles- her left had a small chain, twin to the necklace that Feyre wore around her neck now; a bow and arrow. Feyre's heart tugged at the sight.
Her once wildly left hair was now tied to a single braid, starting from the top of her hair accentuating her kohl-lined eyes and chapped lips. Her black whirlpools swarmed with twisted excitement as she walked.
The young male behind her threw her a roll of white cloth which she rolled open and wrapped tightly around her knuckles. Once she was done her tinted lips rose slightly to form a dangerous smirk as one of her hands when to throw her braid back that fell right along her spine.
She stopped for a second outside the makeshift ring- then she placed her left foot inside the ring as she stalked towards her opponent. They stood chest to chest even when he towered over her.
Her eyes showed no fear as she stared right back at him.
The mediator stapped and shouted, "Shake hands!" The tattoed and lifted his hand with a sadistic smile, but Niravi didn't mirror the action.
She joined both of her palms together and lifted them to her eye level before dropping them down. Her opponent's eyes shut off in fury and she shamefully dropped his palm.
"In the ring, we have the undefeated Lamya! The man who never let his opponents see another day, and then we have Niravi! The well-known tavern dancer- a fighter", he said and they all laughed mockingly at her, few of them even shouted whore into the air. Many of the others screamed profanities at that comment
Feyre felt like her heart would burst out of her chest while Rhysand stiffened. If Niravi felt offended or fazed she never showed it, all they could see was the smile becoming crueller.
"Let's begin!", the mediator said as he walked away.
The two fighters circled each other like prey, their eyes tracking each other's movements like how a hawk would do to its next meal. The circling seemed to bore Lamya as he lunged with his fist towards her. Niravi just dodged it easily- her dancing body slithering out of his fists.
YOU ARE READING
A Court Of Blood And Rays
Fantasy"With every heartbeat I have left I will defend your every breath. Come what may I will find you Feyre." What if there was another sister? A bastard born daughter born from secrets and pain? How will the presence of the fourth sister Niravi, change...
