Chapter 29: The Fight [Bonus]

Chapter 29: Chapter 29: The Fight [Bonus]

Lyra stood in the center of the circle. The crowd pressed in around her, a wall of faces and whispered bets. The sun was high now, casting sharp shadows on the dirt. Dust hung in the air, kicked up by dozens of feet.

She reached up and removed her glasses.

The crowd murmured. The glasses had been a part of her for as long as anyone in Fallbrook had known her. The blind girl. The useless daughter. The one who couldn’t see. Without them, her face was different. Open. Exposed. Her eyes, clear and bright, scanned the crowd with a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

Baron Prick stared at her. His brow furrowed. His mouth opened slightly.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "You’re blind. Those glasses are the only thing that let you—"

Lyra tossed the glasses to the ground. They landed in the dirt with a soft clink. She didn’t look at them. She didn’t need them anymore.

Baron’s confusion deepened. He looked at the glasses, then at her, then at Daniel. Something was wrong. Something didn’t make sense. But he couldn’t figure out what.

"Whatever," he muttered. He raised his fists, settling into a fighting stance. It was sloppy. Untrained. The stance of a man who had never been in a real fight, who had always relied on others to do his dirty work.

Daniel watched from the edge of the circle. Rabbit was still on his back, her arms wrapped around his neck, her breath warm against his ear. She was trembling. He could feel it.

"It’s okay," he said quietly. "She’s going to win."

Rabbit didn’t respond. She just held on tighter.

Daniel turned and walked toward the betting area. A small group of men were gathered around a wooden crate, coins piled on top. The man conducting the bets was a skinny fellow with a rat-like face and quick eyes. He saw Daniel approaching and grinned.

"Ah, finally!" he said. "Someone betting on the loser! Well, since you’re the only one, if he wins, we take all your money. If you win..." He gestured at the pile of coins. "You take all of ours."

Daniel smiled. "And how much would that be?"

The man glanced at the pile. "Total right now is fifty-four silver."

Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out his pouch. He counted out nine silver and ninety-nine copper. All of it. Every coin he had.

He placed it on the crate.

The man’s eyes widened. "You’re betting everything?"

"Why not?" Daniel said. "What are the odds?"

The man laughed. A harsh, mocking laugh. "Odds? There are no odds. You’re going to lose. She’s blind. He’s a noble. It’s not even a contest."

Daniel’s smile didn’t waver. "You can never tell. Maybe a miracle might happen."

The man snorted. "Yeah, right. A miracle." He scooped up Daniel’s coins and added them to the pile. "Pleasure doing business with you."

Daniel turned back to the fight. Lyra was standing in the center of the circle, her fists raised. Her stance was different from Baron’s. Lower. More balanced. Her feet were planted, her weight distributed evenly. She looked like she knew what she was doing.

Baron noticed. His confidence flickered. But he shook it off.

"You know the rules, right?" Lyra said. Her voice was calm. Steady. "I can only stop attacking when you say I give up."

Baron laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I know the rules." He cracked his knuckles. "Not that it matters. I’m not going to be saying that to a blind woman."

Lyra smiled. A cold, sharp smile.

"Good," she said.

Baron lunged.

He threw a punch. A wild, heavy swing aimed at her face. It was slow. Telegraphed. The kind of punch that only worked on someone who couldn’t see it coming.

Lyra saw it coming.

She ducked under the punch, her body moving with fluid grace. Then she threw her own punch.

It was fast. Faster than anything Baron had ever seen. Her fist connected with his mouth, and the impact was thunderous. Teeth shattered. Blood sprayed. Baron’s head snapped back, and he stumbled, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

The crowd gasped. Someone screamed. The betting man dropped his coins.

Baron staggered, his hand flying to his mouth. Blood poured between his fingers. He looked at Lyra, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"What the—"

Lyra didn’t let him finish. She stepped forward and punched him again. This time in the stomach. The air left his lungs in a violent rush, and he doubled over, gasping.

"Sorry," Lyra said, her voice sweet and mocking. "I can’t hear you."

She punched him again. His face. His ribs. His stomach. Each blow landed with precision and power. Baron tried to block, tried to fight back, but he was too slow. Too weak. Too untrained. He stumbled backward, his arms flailing, his mouth open in a silent scream.

The crowd was silent. They watched in stunned disbelief as the blind girl—the useless daughter—beat the noble heir into a bloody pulp.

Daniel watched from the edge of the circle. A grin spread across his face.

"Hehehe," he laughed. "She learned from the best."

Rabbit looked up. Her eyes were wide. Her mouth was open.

"She’s... she’s winning," she whispered.

"Told you," Daniel said. "She’s going to win."

Baron fell to his knees. His face was a mess of blood and bruises. His nose was broken. His lip was split. Several of his teeth were missing. He looked up at Lyra, his eyes filled with terror.

"I... I give..." he started.

Lyra punched him again.

"I can’t hear you," she said.

Baron collapsed onto the ground. He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just lay there, breathing shallowly, his body twitching.

Lyra stood over him. Her fists were bloody. Her dress was splattered with red. Her chest was heaving. But she was standing. She was victorious.

She looked at Daniel. He looked at her.

She smiled.