𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃│✔

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑

"You -"

Before he can finish whatever nonsense he's about to spout, I take his perplexity into advantage, and throw two daggers in his direction. One of them hits him in the shoulder, the other one, he manages to avoid. But by doing so, he takes his eyes off me for a short second, and when he realises I'm gone, I'm already right behind him. With a hard kick in the back, his muscled chest collides with the bloody sand, and I take my whip out. The wind around me sliced in two when I lash out on him.

This is for mocking me.

I whip him repeatedly, and have to keep myself from sneezing when feathers fly all around us. My weapon snakes around his neck when I aim to hold him in a death grip. But before I succeed in tightening my grip. On him, he pushes me off, and I roll over. His wounded wings flap around him furiously, and he jumps up in the sky, out of my reach. Out of his waistband, the cretinous man takes out a set of tri-star blades, and aims down at me. As he sends blade after blade in my direction, I madly whip in the sand around me, sending it in his direction. The momentary adrenaline of violence that has taken over me completely overpowers the itch of silver scraping my neck. Finally, when he throws down the last one he has in hand, his sight blinded by a pebbly dust cloud, I run towards the border of the arena.

This is for using me.

I escalade my way up the steel railing caging us, and when I'm a couple of feet above where he is, jump. The celerity in my movements that of a feline preying on its victim. He doesn't see me coming from behind him, too busy trying to spot me beneath us. The world turns upside down when I rotate my body direct my claws at him. The wings blocking his view from me as I land on his back. My fiancée let's out a surprise yelp, and I chuckle evilly, enjoying the foreseen embarrassment he'll walk away with. He tries to shake me off, but with my legs and arms, I tightly secure myself around his torso, and bring one of my knives to his exposed throat.

I slice his neck, the cut too shallow to reach the jugular, but deep enough to sting.

"Give up?"

He curses defeated before nodding. Descending us back to the ground, I silently get off him, ready to face whatever punishment is waiting for me.

"How much?"

"What?" I can't keep myself from frowning in disgust, the commotion around us forgotten when I notice his heated stare. There isn't a law that forbids women to participate in these kinds off combats. But in practice, it's the greatest insult to any male warrior. Having me as a combatant is like mocking the Feather Lord for his lack of strength.

Because what woman could possibly measure up to the muscles and aggression of a man? One that has lost all sense of humanity.

"How much is your worth? I'll buy you. I'm already engaged, but my harem always has place for another gem."

Goodness, such a gentleman.

"I'm not for sale." I mutter between gritted teeth.

"Nonsense, everyone has a price. Just name it."

"Are you -"

"Lord Octavius!"

Father doesn't seem mad at all, but approaches us with an equally joyful former Feather Lord. Every laugh sends waves of shivers down my spine, bringing back memories of that same laugh hanging over my bloodied body.

"Well, isn't this a nice surprise? I must admit, I'm impressed. Your daughter made quite the impression, Stefan. It was high time for Octavius to get his ass beaten."Father's friend laughs.

"I thought this would be just the way for the future couple to meet."

A revolting chill makes my bones grow cold when the lustful eyes of the arrogant man inspect every inch of my body, as if he's mentally visualising what both of us could achieve in bed. He plasters a toothy smile to hide the primal cravings in his eyes, but I've seen innumerable of those to be ignorant to what he'll do to me as soon as our union has been completed. I can predict the life, locked away in the depths of our bedroom, waiting for me.

"I'm more than impatient to find out more about my gorgeous wife."

Future wife.

The three men laugh in sync, thinking that the sexual remark passed by the heads of the entire arena around them, while every woman here knows what kind of compliment 'gorgeous' really means. Appealing enough to spend the night with, but not 'beautiful' enough to stand by her husband's side as his equal.

"Stefan Von Felidae." A calm voice, whose owner I had almost forgotten in midst of this fiasco, orders. Slaying all glee and laughter from the men's expressions.

"Introduce me to our mysterious winner."

"At your orders, Your Majesty."

I keep my head bowed as Father approaches me, and it takes everything in me not to cower away when the detached cold-heartedness that he emits reaches me, with every step he takes closer.

"If anything happens, you're not related to us by blood, understood?" he threatens close enough so no one hears it.

"Yes, My Lord."

With eyes staring at the dusty ground as we walk up the stairs, where the King rests on his throne, I follow Father wordlessly. The metallic taste of blood overflows my tastebuds when my fangs extend on their own accord, seeming to understand the underlining tension rising in the air. I keep my head bowed and pay mind on the newly accoutred cuts on my soles tearing further open with each time I sink a bit deeper in the layer of sand beneath.

He's here.