The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 4: Strong

Fortunately, I reached the Coupling grounds before the crowd grew chaotic. Men and women still propped up deerhide tents circling the field. At the center of the circle, a life-size gold statue of the Three-Legged Lion reared back on its hind legs, its single front leg clawing the air. Scattered around the magnificent centerpiece, small groups lifted mugs to lips and chatted in subdued tones, still too sober and exposed to scope out options.

Unfortunately, Izra was already with another woman.

While most of the women present donned fancy gowns or frocks, ornate jewelry, and elaborate hairstyles to celebrate the Day of Blessings, Izra's raven hair hung loose over a simple tan tunic and trousers. I noticed the subtle caress of the fabric over her hips and the swish of her hair when her head turned. With the detached ease in her stance and gaze, her simple attire was not a show of humility.

It was brazen disregard.

The other woman stood a head taller than Izra. A green gown swaddled her broad shoulders and outlined impressive biceps, and dark brown curls piled above her head. Anywhere else, she would have demanded attention. Standing beside Izra, she was only an overgrown child.

I felt Izra's gaze move my direction before she even moved her head, and I averted my eyes. Princess Paranila had instructed me on a new tactic I would use tonight. According to the Princess, people like Izra required a challenge. Tonight, I would not approach Izra.

Tonight, she would come to me.

I strode toward the middle of the circle, where a ruddy-cheeked man filled mugs of prak from a barrel. His tunic bulged over a generous belly as he twisted to set each mug on a large stump. When I neared him, fumes of spicy alcohol mingled with pungent body odor.

I cleared my throat. "Excuse me, how much for a mug of prak?"

He swung toward me, flashed a toothy grin, and scratched his armpit through the torn seam in his tunic. 

"Usually two coppers, but for you? Free with a kiss."

I slapped two coppers down on the stump and snatched a mug. "Thank you."

As I turned away, I took a swig—and I gagged. Lurching to a halt, I stared at the contents of the mug. Gold flecks swirled in amber liquid like prak, but this biting, repulsive liquor was nothing like any prak I had imbibed.

I thought I felt a magnetic gaze pass over me, but when I glanced at Izra, her eyes fastened to the woman speaking to her.

"First time drinking, love?"

I jerked my head to the left, where a shorter woman smiled up at me. A shimmering blue gown stretched tight over her generous hips and plunged open to reveal an expanse of cleavage. Her bronze skin pouched under her eyes and sagged beneath her chin.

I shook my head. "No, I've had prak before."

"Sure you have." She leaned forward and whispered near my ear, "You know, inexperience is nothing to be ashamed of. Some of us even prefer it." Then she squeezed my arm just above the elbow.

I resisted the urge to pull away from the ticklish touch. Paranila had instructed me to attract the attention of an alluring woman. This woman was sufficiently alluring, at least in dim lighting, but I wasn't sure what to do next. Izra remained focused on her suitor, one hand over a cocked hip and the other tilting her mug at her lips. If I followed someone else back to her tent, I very much doubted Izra would intervene.

The woman beside me huffed a snort. "Drawn to the infamous pair, are you? Which one are you eyeing—Denavin or Izra?"

"I'm... not eyeing..."