Born of Defiance

“Officer training.”


Felicia felt sick at what he was telling her. Ring fighting was a brutal blood sport where opponents tried to kill each other for entertainment. Many times, they succeeded. Honestly, the entire sport and those who participated in it repulsed her. “How long have you been fighting?”

“Nine years.”

That shocked her even more. Who in their right mind would allow their child to participate in something so horrific as a baby? “You were an infant when you started.”

“Almost eleven. Normal age for most boys who seriously go into it. I was big for my age back then. They thought I was fifteen and I didn’t bother to correct them.” He let out a bitter laugh. “Besides, Open doesn’t ask for ID – which is why it’s called Open. So long as you have the entry fee, they’ll let you fight.”

Felicia barely caught herself before she contradicted him about the beginning age for fighters. For Vested fighters with lineage, seventeen was the normal age to start – after years of private training, with carefully selected instructors, and very specific rules and limitations for those who weren’t ranked as pros. As a bastard without lineage, Talyn would have been in the Open league, which was even more brutal, as they were treated like, and viewed as, cockfighting animals. They had no rules whatsoever, or personal trainers, and she had no idea how old those boys were when they began. Obviously, they started in infancy.

“How often do you fight?”

“Two or three times a month, during prime season.”

She was aghast at the amount.

“Iron Hammer! Holy shite!” This time it was an Andarion male in business clothes who came up to them. “I didn’t know you ate here! Would you mind taking a photo with me?”

“Sure.”

The male handed his link to his friend as Talyn rose to stand beside him. After his friend took the picture, he held his hand out to Talyn. “I’m a huge fan. It’s so awesome to meet you.”

“You, too.” Talyn retook his seat after they left.

Frowning, she was confused by all the attention he garnered. “Are you famous?” Since they were considered the mongrel dogs of the Ring sporting world, it was rare for any Open league fighter to be known to the general public.

His cheeks mottled with color before he answered. “I just won the Zoftiq title for Vested a few months back. And I’m the former Open league Zof champ. I had to surrender that title when I won Vested.”

She gaped at something that was as impressive as it was rare. Fresca had definitely not told her that. Nor had she found it on her cursory search.

Strange.

“Really?” she gasped.

Sheepishly, he glanced away. “I’m also undefeated in both leagues.”

Her head spun at what he was saying. “Talyn… that’s incredible! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You said on your profile that you hated Ring fighting and wanted no part of it.”

“Well, yeah, but —”

“I didn’t think you’d talk to me if you knew.”

He was right. She probably wouldn’t have. She’d always thought of fighters as brain-addled morons who pummeled each other because they were too dumb to know better. But that wasn’t true of Talyn. He was definitely not what came to her mind when she thought of the lunatics who made their glory in violence and entrails.

“How long do you intend to fight?”

“Just until I make a commander’s rank. If I don’t fight, I have no other way to get promoted.”

That didn’t make sense to her. “You’re Zoftiq champion of both leagues. Why aren’t you a commander?”

“I’m the bastard son of a disowned male, Felicia,” he repeated. “ -12-6. A slave or criminal has more standing than I do. Even in the military.”

In that moment, her heart broke for him. He was right, and it wasn’t fair. Any Vested Andarion would be adjutant to the prime commander of their military if they’d achieved so much, especially at his age. They’d have their pick of posts and ranks.

Yet he was merely a major. Not even one with a command position.

In that moment, she, a diehard pacifist, wanted to beat someone.

“Why has no one in your father’s family adopted you?” That was normally what the family did to protect the children of sons who, for whatever crime, had been cast out of their lineages. Almost always, the grandmother, great-grandmother, or a sister stepped in and reclaimed the innocent children. “Do they not know about you?”

There was no missing the anguish her question caused him. “They know. They just don’t care.”

The waiter returned with their food. Felicia had to force herself not to curl her lip at what Talyn was forced to eat. Water, and a giant portion of plain white meat, brown rice, cut-up raw fruit, and three hard-boiled eggs. They weren’t even salted.

“Is that really what you’re eating?”

He nodded. “I have a very restricted diet whenever I’m in training.”