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)
The male from last night. Surprise, surprise. He’d tried to get an edge by roughing her up. His benefactor had known who his opponent would be.
If only Faelynn’s healing and Daisy’s blood magic had worked faster. She wasn’t in tiptop shape. It hurt to twist, and extreme movement might buckle her knees. Luckily, this lump of muscle had a big welt on his clean-shaven head from where the female had hit him last night and a healing line of puffy skin where Daisy had stabbed him. He wasn’t in tiptop shape either.
“As before,” the king said, on his dais with those unnatural, gleaming eyes, “do not kill her. Break her, only. I wish to use her before long.”
These fights were to the death. Except hers, obviously. She was special, with a future much worse. Goodie.
“Commence,” the voice sounded, and this time, Daisy didn’t wait.
She snatched all five throwing knives. She tossed up the first, grabbed it by the blade, and threw. The next she plucked out of her other hand and threw. The next, the next. All five were in the air in quick succession. Just like last night, this fucker was slow to react.
He twisted jerkily, obviously in pain. He didn’t get far enough out of the way. The first knife lodged in the lower part of his neck, just off center. The second farther down. The next three in his chest. Those wouldn’t go deep enough to kill him, but they’d slow him further.
His body jerked with each strike.
A slash of stinging magic made her falter. She called on the chalice magic and cut it out. If he realized it, he didn’t show it.
Her next steps landed with purpose. There was no slipping and sliding today. No falling and flailing. That shit hurt too much. There was just ending this fight as quickly as fucking possible.
She whipped out her magical knife as he recovered, plucking the knives from his body. Blood gushed from his neck. It spread out over his mostly bare chest, save for the crisscrossing straps to house his knives. He grabbed one of them and stepped forward to meet her.
But he didn’t have a magical knife like she did.
Cluing in to her thoughts, the knife grew longer and longer. It stretched out into a spear.
Daisy took a deep breath, held it, stepped, and thrust. Pain flowered in her chest and shocked her system. Her knees went wobbly, and she cried in pain as her spear lodged into his side. Fuck. That wasn’t the right place.
She staggered as she yanked it back. He staggered as he helped pull it out of his flesh, knife in hand.
Look down at it, you dumb fucker. Look down at it! Give me a second to adjust.
But he didn’t look down, knowing what would happen. He advanced, shaky on his feet, losing a lot of blood but not falling. Great, she’d gotten a highly motivated one.
She backpedaled. Her foot slipped, and she went down, catching herself on a knee. Her breath turned ragged from the searing pain in her side. It had been a full break. A bad one, as she’d thought. The bone hadn’t totally stitched back together.
“Fuck,” she said through gritted teeth.
The male slashed with his knife. She ducked away but couldn’t stomach rolling under him to the other side. She was worried she wouldn’t get back up.
To give in to one’s pain is to give in to death, Zorn’s voice echoed in her mind.
The pain wouldn’t kill her.
The wound would not kill her.
Failing to act because of either would certainly kill her.
Fucking Zorn was always fucking right.
She ground her teeth as the knife slashed down, and then she rolled out of the way. The agony welled up, flashing like lightning through her middle. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t if she wanted to survive in one piece. She completed the roll, forced herself to kneel, and struck with everything she had.
Her scream punctuated her shortened spear sticking through the side of his ribcage. Magically sharpened, it sliced through bone and lung and kept going, elongating on its own until it hit the heart. She wondered if it had bent inside his body to get it. The sword wasn’t relying on her; it was acting on its own, doing what was required to get the kill.
The male screamed with her, the hand that held the knife spasming. He released it and grabbed for the spear, but it was too late. The damage was done.
He collapsed as she did, withering to the ground. The difference was, he wouldn’t get back up. She would. Eventually. Some day.
The guards grabbed her upper arms, and she screamed again as they lifted her.
“I got it.” She tried to struggle away, straightening her legs. “I got it—”
“Bring her here.”
The king’s voice stopped her heart. She clutched one of the guard’s arms, looking back for her sword. Faelynn crouched beside it, her face slack. She’d been collecting Daisy’s items and frozen. That wasn’t good.