It hadn't taken long once Ishbosheth found the right angle and strength needed to wear the paint off the brick wall. The day after he had gotten the paint off, the men were paired up with sparring partners with their gloves on again. The day after that they paired up with sparring partners again, except the men were put on small pedestals to practice their balance.
The day before the fights they didn't practice, but instead were shackled and paraded in front of the guests of honor one by one. The men were introduced by their slave name and then if they saw fit, the guest would tell them their own name.
Ishbosheth saw one young girl in a long green dress walking toward the men. Torres went from man to man, giving the girl their names. Once he came to Ishbosheth, Torres grabbed the back of his head, and pulled it up so he was facing the girl. "This, highness, is Dorian."
The girl had big green eyes that matched her dress. She smiled at Ishbosheth and his stomach fluttered. She took out a piece of green fabric, with a "K" embroidered on it. "Win tomorrow for me, Dorian."
"What's your name?" Ishbosheth said.
Torres took his whip and cracked it over Ishbosheth's back. "That's for speaking out of turn."
The girl looked sad, and then put a hand on Ishbosheth's shoulder, "I'm Killian, Antony's daughter."
Ishbosheth smiled at her and she eventually moved on to meet the next man in line.
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