Tempted By My Ex's Brother-in-Law (Aria and Grayson) novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213

Aria’s POV

The first round began three days later in Frostpine’s lower arena.

The place had always felt more like a battlefield than a training ground. Gray stone terraces climbed the mountainside in rough circles, and the fighting ring sat in the middle like an old scar cut into the earth.

By the time I arrived, every seat was full.

Guests who should have gone home after the parade scandal had somehow found reasons to stay. Some came for entertainment. Some came to see the men fighting for my hand.

Some, I was sure, simply hoped Frostpine would embarrass itself again.

Ila stood near the center of the arena with a scroll in one hand and a bronze gong behind her. Frostpine guards lined the ring, and the candidates waited at the lower gate in dark fighting clothes, all of them trying to look fearless.

Some were warming up with hard, sharp movements. When I looked at their directions, they immediately raised their hands trying to get my attention. And others stood too still, like they thought they could hide their nerves.

Sable settled into the seat beside me and leaned in. “You realize this is insane, right? Your husband selection starts with men beating each other bloody.”

“This is Frostpine,” I said. “It would be weird if they started with poetry.”

That made her laugh, but my attention was already drifting downward.

I scanned the candidates without meaning to. Eren was impossible to miss. He was talking to two warriors from another pack as if this were a festival. Rhys stood farther off alone with hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable.

I looked once for Grayson too, though I told myself I wasn’t looking for him.

But I didn’t see him.

Ila struck the gong, and the noise rolled through the arena like thunder.

“The first round,” she announced, “will be a combat elimination tournament. Candidates will fight one–on–one. This round will test combat skill, nerve, and physical power. Those who win advance. Those who lose are eliminated.”

Her voice carried through the stands.

The rules were simple enough, and everyone knew there was no point asking for mercy now.

“The order has already been decided. Prepare yourselves.”

The first pair entered the ring, and the tournament began.

It didn’t take long for the fake charm to burn off people.

Registration day had been full of polished smiles and polite handshakes. The arena stripped all that away in minutes.

The first loser was a handsome noble who had bowed to me twice that morning and compared my eyes to moonlit water.

He spent the entire fight backing away until his opponent drove him out of the ring with one ugly hit to the chest. He looked more offended than injured when he left, as if humiliation had never happened to him before.

A second candidate strutted in like he already married me and was the King now. He lasted even less time. His opponent knocked him flat, and the whole arena laughed before the poor fool had managed to suck in another breath

That was how the early matches went.

Men who had talked too much lost quickly. A few turned vicious the moment they began to lose. One tried to fake an inj to force a pause and got booed all the way out. Another panicked after taking a hit to the nose and never recovered his balance.

I kept watching, more closely than I’d intended.

At first, I told myself it was strategy. I needed to know who among them had real strength and who was just none But the longer I sat there, the more I found myself judging them in other ways too. How they carried pain. Whether the saved disciplined when things went badly. Whether they fought cleanly or reached for cheap tricks the moment pris murt

It was strange, realizing how much a fight could reveal.

When Eren’s name was called, the atmosphere changed immediately.

He entered the ring grinning, broad shoulders loose, all easy confidence and bright energy. The crowd liked him before ti match even started. Frostpine always had a weakness for bold men, and Eren knew exactly how to feed it without looking like he was trying.

His opponent was no lightweight, a square–faced fighter from a mountain clan with enough muscle to make most men cautious. Eren didn’t look cautious at all.

The gong sounded, and he moved first.

He fought the way he lived–straight at the problem, fast and hard, with no interest in making things elegant.

His footwork wasn’t as clean as it could have been, and he took more risks than a colder man would. But once he built momentum, he became difficult to stop. He slammed through his opponent’s guard with brute force, took a punch to the jaw, then a hit that sent the other man stumbling back across the ring.

The crowd roared for him. He seemed to fight even better once he heard them.

By the time he won, half the stands were cheering.

“EREN! EREN! EREN!” They shouted.

Eren turned toward me the second the match ended and flashed a grin that was so shameless i almost laughed. He looked flushed and pleased with himself, like a boy who had just won a prize at a fair.

Sable elbowed me. “That one knows how to perform.”

“He also knows how to get punched in the face,” I said, though I had to admit he’d impressed me.

“He’d probably thank you if you told him that.”

“I’m not going to.”

She gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me at all.

A few matches later, Rhys was called. He entered without flourish, and at first the crowd was less interested in him. He didn’t have Eren’s easy charm, and he wasn’t built like one of the heavier warriors.

Still, the moment the fight started, people stopped looking away.

Rhys was different.

He didn’t explode into motion the way Eren had. He waited. Watched. Let the other man commit first. Then he slip aside and punished every mistake his opponent made.

He fought like he had already seen the whole match in his head and was simply walking through it step by step.

His opponent was stronger, but Rhys kept taking pieces from him. A strike to the wrist that weakened his grip. A sha just below the knee. A turn of the shoulder that sent a heavier body off balance. He wore the man down until victory almost inevitable, then ended it neatly.

When Rhys left the ring, a different kind of murmur spread through the stands.

People noticed him now.

So did I.

He had always been dangerous in a quiet way, but seeing him fight sharpened that impression. Eren burned hot and Rhys was colder. More patient.

If Eren was a sword swung in daylight, Rhys was the knife you didn’t see until it was already in your ribs.

But neither of them was Grayson.

… Where was him anyway?

Ila stepped into the ring with the next section of names. She read two more matches. Both finishot quickly One can left the arena cradling his arm against his chest. Another had to be helped out by two guards.

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