Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Tee-hee!
He jerked violently, and she increased the suction of her magic, pulling more from him. He didn’t notice, bellowing in pain and reaching between his legs where it hurt the most, bending, his knees wobbling.
She surged up, “off-kilter” and with a flurry of “panicked” movement. Her magical dagger was in her hand in a flash, and her shoulder bashed into his solar plexus. The force knocked his weight backward. She “slipped,” kicked out his foot with hers, and forced him to do the splits before he could get his knife. His scream increased in pitch, and she had to work very hard not to grin. Fuck she loved fighting dirty. It was so much fun.
His weight was still going backward. She clutched the strap across his chest to “keep from falling” and “accidentally” shoved her knife through his middle. It elongated on its own, really the best knife a gal could have, and she ripped him to the side as she “fell.”
He landed with a half-strangled cry, cut short by her landing on the knife, driving it in the rest of the way. She scrambled off him, rolled and fell and sobbed, taking her knife with her. Before she was completely off, she yanked her throwing knife out of his balls and gave a legitimate ugh as she did so. Fuck that was gross. Dirty play was fun…until the cleanup.
She sat in a little ball, shaking and willing tears to trail down her blood-splattered face. It wasn’t easy. That had been a fucking good time. Though…she didn’t know if siphoning magic had made her enemy incrementally weaker.
Thank all the gods you are such a vicious little weasel, Tarian said affectionately. I have said it before—the fates chose perfectly. That was masterful. I have never seen anything like it. You pulled it off seamlessly.
Silence descended as the reality of what had happened worked through the nobles. Slowly, voices started to murmur. Then a slow clap issued from the dais. The king’s blood-red eyes were alight with humor. He grinned as he spoke.
“As I said, humans are so much fun to play with. You never know how it will go. Take her away.”
Daisy hastily put away her weapons before the guards hoisted her up and set her to walking. She chanced a glance back at Tarian. He sat with a drink and a bemused expression.
Well done, Faelynn said when she rejoined Daisy and the manacles were being refastened. She crouched in front, putting her hands on Daisy’s head. Except for a few very fluid knife strikes and draws, to a casual observer, it looked like dumb luck.
Good. That was the goal.
She nodded, lifting Daisy’s chin to examine her eyes and pulling up her hand to check it over. As soon as the rest of the champions have gone, you’ll get to rest.
Here?
No. You’ll be taken somewhere more comfortable. That is where you can meet the others and gain as much information as you can.
But there was no information to be had. Not for her, at any rate.
The holding area was a large room with rows of cots, one for each champion that had entered the games. Half would be empty, apparently more than any other game in the history of the court. Or so one of the guards said absently, complaining that they’d had to make them all up when they wouldn’t all be used. The toilets were a line of tubs along the far wall, and the wash station was an enclosed, outdoor area with a few washbasins and a bunch of dirt. Male, female, it didn’t matter. Everyone for themselves.
She tried not to show her embarrassment as she used one of the tubs, or her wary revulsion as one of the males watched with interest. In the wash area, she made sure to face the others, male and female alike. She didn’t want to catch a surprise knife or dick in the body. Thankfully, no one ventured near. No one so much as touched her. Where a stray hand might find another of the champions, everyone actively stayed away from her. They knew what Tarian would be forced to do if they got intimate, and they weren’t taking any chances.
She’d never been so damn glad for a claim in all her life. Thank the gods she hadn’t been able to control herself, or that they’d had to prove themselves in the court. The others weren’t allowed to force each other or fight, but there were no rules where it came to humans. The king had made that perfectly clear.
Food materialized at a table against the wall by the door. Haunches of meat, cheese, bread, and fruits. The pitchers were filled with water, and while some of the champions groused that there was no wine, she was thankful she wouldn’t be confronted with going thirsty or trying the equivalent of Faerie alcohol. Faelynn had said Daisy could trust these meals—they wanted all deaths to be in front of an audience—so she was free to quench her thirst and sate her hunger.