Their Hidden Princess (Zora) novel Chapter 136

Just a week had slipped by when the realization struck me like a lightning bolt: I had to face Kairos once more.

It was Petyr who delivered the news, his presence cutting through the morning chatter as he approached our table with determination. He locked eyes with me, his expression serious, before announcing that the second fight would take place the following Saturday.

There was a flicker of apprehension in his gaze, something I chose to ignore. But Mona, ever perceptive, caught it instantly and wouldn’t let it rest. Each day leading up to the fight, she reminded me of that fleeting fear, her concern a constant hum in the background as I prepared myself.

As I bent down to tighten the laces on my training shoes, I recalled Max’s advice. He had drilled it into me: “There’s nothing worse than losing a fight because you tripped.” I shoved the ends of the laces into the sides, just as he had taught me, feeling a sense of control wash over me. Mona was in the midst of her daily pep talk, but today, she infused it with an intensity that felt electric.

“We’ve been training hard,” she insisted, her voice rising with enthusiasm. “We’ve worked tirelessly to counter our weaknesses. And let’s not forget, we know Moonraiser’s vulnerabilities too. Plus, we’ve heard from the other Alpha that he’s afraid.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, but the corners of my mouth twitched upward. “I know, I know,” I assured her. “Strangely enough, I’m not feeling nervous at all.”

“Nothing to be nervous about,” she declared, her tail swishing with confidence. “We’re going to win this.”

I couldn’t help but think that being overly confident was a choice—one I’d willingly embrace again. With a playful roll of my eyes, I stood up and brushed off my training gear. The locker room felt hauntingly silent, a stark contrast to the chaos that awaited me. As I stepped into the hallway that led to the gym, the low hum of the crowd vibrated through the air, a reminder of the impending clash. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the doors, stepping into the whirlwind of the fight.

The gym was packed, perhaps even more so than during my first encounter. As I emerged into the arena, the murmurs of the crowd crescendoed into a cacophony of boos, each one a sharp reminder of the animosity directed at me. I held my head high, striding confidently to the center of the mat, deliberately ignoring the twisted expressions of anger that greeted me.

Upon reaching the sparring mat, I noticed the setup was markedly different this time. Kairos was conspicuously absent, and Maximus was not by his side. Instead, my personal trainer—my steadfast knight—stood across the mat, his presence a reassuring anchor. Thorne, predictably, was still aligned with Kairos, while Petyr stood in the middle, his demeanor serious as he prepared to officiate.

Suddenly, the doors to the men’s locker room swung open, and Kairos emerged, eliciting a thunderous roar from the crowd. The cheers and applause soared far above the scattered boos that followed me. Yet, something was off. Kairos’s usual scowl was replaced by a tight-lipped expression, his shoulders hunched as if bearing the weight of the world. He appeared tense, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the pressure of our training.

“He knows we’ve been preparing,” Mona whispered, her voice a low growl in my mind. I nodded, her insight suddenly feeling less like a mere observation and more like a profound truth. As Kairos approached the mat, he positioned himself directly across from Petyr, casting a sideways glance my way before turning his focus forward. Petyr raised his hand, and the crowd’s roar dulled to an anticipatory hush.

“The rules are as follows,” Petyr began, echoing the cadence he used during our first fight. “This will be a best two out of three matches. I will announce the winner. Kairos took the first match.”

The crowd erupted once more, their enthusiasm palpable. Petyr waited, allowing the noise to swell before lifting his hand again, silencing them with a mere gesture.

“All sparring techniques are permitted,” he continued, his voice steady. “A knockout results in an automatic win. Fighters, take your positions.”

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