Chapter 5 #2
The crowd shrieked as Oscri managed to get out of the man’s grip.
I pulled at my dress, letting the stupid gilded tendrils of the skirt weave between my fingers as Oscri’s hand wrapped around the man’s throat and he yanked, ripping a chuck of flesh out.
There was a spark of surprise in the man’s eyes before blood gushed, painting Oscri’s entire face red, and the light in the former’s gaze went out.
Oscri threw the man’s dead body onto the ground. After dragging his hands down his face, he ripped open his tunic and smacked his palms against his chest, leaving two crimson imprints as he ran around the ring. “Anyone else want to try?”
There was a shuffle as karls shoved and elbowed themselves forward, their bloodthirst awakened—or perhaps their throats had been wetted with enough liquid courage—but my legs stopped moving when Rakkel spun into the ring, mock-curtsying to Oscri.
The karl gave a dry chuckle. “I don’t fight girls.”
Rakkel rolled up the sleeves of her far more appropriate dress. “Good thing I’m an heir as well.”
“Not for much longer if you fight me.” Wickedness spread across Oscri’s features as he called to the king. “May I take her place if I kill her?”
“Certainly.” The king lifted his cup to more cheers and whistles. “If you can, the gods have already abandoned her.” King Gustief winked at Rakkel. “Feel free to put this karl in his place.”
Rakkel beckoned Oscri with a finger. “Oh. I plan to.”
She looked so small as the grinning Oscri stalked forward, but when he went for her, diving forward with only a second’s notice, Rakkel was suddenly behind him. His thick arms waved in the air as she kicked him in the back, nearly sending him into the ground.
“You missed,” she said innocently when he whirled, his face flushing.
“Is she allowed to use her magic?” he growled.
“Of course,” the king called. “You did not specify you wished for her not to.”
“Seems fucking unfair when we don’t have any anymore,” Oscri growled as he swung out with his arm, missing Rakkel again as she appeared two feet back.
The rumbles in his chest built into screams of frustration as he began punching, kicking, jabbing, trying to outmaneuver the female heir.
But Rakkel only danced and whirled and spun, her positions never where Oscri believed they were.
“Fuck, she’s good.” Ivren rested his ankle over his knee. “We’ve fought together before, but I’ve never had time to study her. Gomnd really allows her to conceal her movements.”
A crash sounded, and Oscri looked as shocked as the rest of us when Rakkel got him onto his back, her arms locked around his neck with his head resting in her lap. He flipped his entire body, his legs kicking high into the air, but he couldn’t reach her.
“Yield,” she ordered.
Oscri shook his head. “N-never,” he hissed.
“Yield!” Rakkel squeezed her arms harder and his face tinted blue, but he still refused. She laughed quietly. “Suit yourself.” The heir released him for a single moment, but as he turned, Rakkel slammed her elbow down, hitting him right in the temple.
Oscri’s eyes rolled back into his head, his body going limp. Pushing him off, Rakkel jumped to her feet, bowing to the screaming karls.
It took two men—one who looked like his brother—to drag him away.
“Worried?” Ottoh leaned over, his breath smelling of wine, as three servants cleaned up the worst of the blood on the ground. “You should be able to take several of them at the same time, shouldn’t you?”
His question came right as the karls quieted, and eyes shot our way. Bile burned in my throat when they held their breaths, the karls closest to us waiting for my response. I swiped a cup from the nearest servant and made myself sip it slowly to buy time.
I did not wish to be forced up there.
“Well?” Ottoh demanded, throwing a cruel quirk of his mouth toward the karls. “Are you scared, Sweengard?”
The king turned our way, the expression on his face unreadable as conversations died out.
Viljan inched closer when a different type of hunger settled over the crowd, the atmosphere shifting into an impatient violence that jabbed against my skin.
After Rakkel’s performance, the karls were out for blood, and they were wondering if I was worth hunting.
I needed to play this carefully, because I could not stand in that ring. Covering the pulse pounding at the bottom of my neck with my hand, I used the other to take another swig of wine.
“I’m bored,” I rasped after I swallowed, clenching my fingers around my goblet so they wouldn’t shake. “Our fights at Oenskan are far more impressive.”
Rakkel arched a brow my way as she threw herself onto her chair.
“You should go up there, then,” she said. “Perhaps you could teach us something.”
“Yes, Sweengard,” Ottoh added. “Please show us your ways.”
“That sounds even less entertaining,” I replied before rounding my mouth in a fake yawn, doing my best to appear the spoiled heir those whispers following me up from the harbor had accused me of being.
“I see no honorable rivals here, and I have no desire to foul myself by killing an unworthy opponent.”
The gazes that had been curious—seeking—turned hostile.
Ivren and Adrion ended their conversation, looking over at me, the former with horror shadowing his features. Rakkel shook her head, and even Ottoh scoffed as murmurs rose over the initiates.
“Who does she think she is, refusing to fight us?”
“She would be nothing without her father’s rune.”
“It’s not even her own. She hasn’t earned hers yet.”
“I’ll show her an honorable fight.”
“She should watch her back.”
Ottoh’s chuckle layered around my neck like a noose. “That’s one way to end your bloodline. Questioning all the karls’ honor?” He shook his head. “You better sleep with that sword.”
Plastering a superior smirk across my face, I rose from my chair. “I’m tired from my travels.” I turned to the king, my heart fighting to escape my rib cage as I gambled with my next words. “Do you wish me to show how to best kill four men at once, or may I be excused?”
As more outraged cries came behind me, calls for me to stand by my words, a nervous shudder ran up my spine, but I hid it by playing my fingers over the sword hilt sticking up behind my back.
“You can go.” The king’s focus was thankfully on the full plate of fish that was being brought in. “Anyone else who wishes to leave?”
Ottoh jumped to his feet. “Not me. I’ll fight the next one.” His brows bounced as he stared from me to the karls pressing in, their furious faces turned my way. “I’m not afraid to see if you can avoid getting hit by my precise punches.”
A loud cheer went through the crowd.
I kept my chin up as I walked through the initiates, heading out of the tent. While they parted for me, their contemptuous glares burned, and I pretended not to notice the spit landing on my cheek and dripping down my collarbone.
Tears blurred my eyes when I finally reached the flaps leading out into the night, and as soon as I escaped the tent, I started running.