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At the top of the lists, he scolded her, shook a finger at her, and she took it until she finally threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Lilia and Esme were watching all of it, giggling when Isadora kissed him. It had the desired effect because Cam cooled down, returning to the arena floor as his wife returned triumphantly to her seat.

She’d won the battle.

The later bouts were between the more advanced warriors, including two new ones that had been brought in by Clegg. One man was big and pale, with flaming red hair, and went by the name of The Celtic Storm. He fought a man who was about half his size, and it was an excellent fight but, in the end, The Celtic Storm triumphed.

The second new warrior was a little more interesting. He was tall and sinewy, with well-defined muscles and dark skin that was glorious and glistening. He went by the name The North Star and he battled against a seasoned warrior known as The Beast from the East.

It was the most exciting match yet.

It went on for a very long time, until both men were so exhausted they could barely fight any longer. The crowd, who had been screaming for the duration of the match, became abruptly silent when The North Star and The Beast from the East got into a wrestling match that saw The Beast from the East get the upper hand by flipping his opponent onto his face. The North Star was slowly suffocating in the dirt until the field marshals broke up the fight and declared The Beast from the East the victor.

But barely.

In all, it had been an exciting night of excellent matches. Lilia had paid for warmed wine when the vendor came around, and the women drank their spicy wine, discussing the matches with glee. The wine made them giggly and they were genuinely enjoying themselves.

Especially Esme.

Three days ago, if someone had told her that her life would change so drastically in just a matter of days, she would have never believed them. She was truly happy for the first time in her life, with women who had already become her friends, and she was fast becoming enamored with a man that, until two days ago, had been just a faded speck in her memory.

Now, she could think of nothing else.

It was the kiss that had done it.

She could still feel it on her cheek, sweet and delicious. He had been so gentle about it that she found it difficult to believe that the same man who could fight so viciously was capable of such tenderness.

He had kissed her and then he’d gone to sleep. But when he awoke, she was still in the cottage, sitting by the hearth mending one of his torn tunics with some thread Lilia had given her. He’d smiled at her, she’d smiled in return, and he’d quit the cottage without a word spoken.

But he didn’t need to.

There was something in the air.

Therefore, Esme was quite excited to see him fight on this night, and she was learning quickly that Titus only fought the later, more important rounds. As the wind that had been blowing through the complex all day picked up and clouds began to blow in from the east, covering the moon, Titus’ bout was announced.

It would be The Eagle against The Celtic Storm.

The crowd went mad.

The Celtic Storm was the first one out onto the arena floor, lifting his arms and bellowing at the crowd, who managed to cheer for him in a mediocre manner. But the moment Titus came out, the crowd was on its feet, screaming as if Jesus Christ had just made an appearance. There was hooting and yelling going on, but down on the first row of the lists, there was something else happening.

A solid row of exquisitely dressed women, waving perfumed kerchiefs.

Esme hadn’t noticed them last night, but from her vantage point tonight in a different seat, she could see them clearly. Already, the women were throwing things onto the arena floor where two young men rushed out to collect everything. Seated next to Isadora, she craned her neck to see all of those lovely, well-dressed women.

“Who are they?” she asked, pointing. “Wives?”

Isadora wasn’t sure who she meant. “Who?”

“Those women,” Esme said. “They are throwing things onto the field. Are they wives of patrons?”

Isadora realized who she was indicating. But she found herself reluctant to tell Esme that they were the brigade of women who had come to seek Titus’ favor.

“Those are wealthy women who like tae come and watch the bouts,” she said carefully. “They are throwing money onto the field tae indicate their esteem for the fighters. Like a reward.”

Or an enticement. But she didn’t say so. She watched Esme accept the explanation with no trouble.

“Oh,” Esme said, not sensing anything out of the ordinary. “Do the women come often?”

“Every night there is fighting.”