Tattered jeans are all he wears and when his gaze meets mine, I nearly vomit. His crumbled and beaten skull is sunken and deformed, but he stares back at me as if he feels nothing.
The man’s strong build nearly fills the wide expanse between the walls. He slowly walks forward, taking his time and peering up at the roaring crowd with confusion in his blue eyes.
“My glorious friends, thank you for joining us this morning.” Loki’s introduction is a bit later than I expected. “Our one and only, Druw was available for entertainment today. For those of you who don’t know,” Loki’s attention falls to me, an amused smile clings to his lips, “Druw was once a fae who came to me for help.”
My stomach turns and I step back to get a better look at the god. My shoulder’s hit the far wall as I look up at the god of mischief and realize what a terrible mistake I have made.
“Druw was a fae who came to me and asked for everlasting life.” The crowd chimes in with laughter at just the right time and Loki soaks up their adoration. “And so, after winning a few tasks I set before him, I granted his request.” With every word Loki speaks, terror shakes through me. This was a mistake. “I granted him everlasting life just as mankind was starting to bloom. And look at him now, prospering from my gifts. Isn’t that right, Druw?”
Druw looks lifelessly up at the god with a glazed and possibly blinded eye. He looks up at the god who granted him an endless and terrible life.
My hand shakes against the wall and I barely turn my back on the crowd before vomit spews from my mouth. It burns up my throat with vengeance.
My fingers fist in my palm and I bring it to my lips. I wipe away the mess and turn back to the god still smiling down on me.
“Druw, meet Kara.” Loki instructs the fae with slow and annunciated words. Druw’s hulking neck swings his head toward me unsteadily. “Druw, if Kara wins today, I’ll grant her request, just like I did for you. Do you want that?Do you want me to help her like I helped you?”
As if those words trigger something in Druw’s mind, the fae’s enormous feet storm across the dirt. The dust billows up around his heavy steps like the start of a sand storm.
My wings expand without effort. They arch behind me, threatening to pull me from Druw’s grasp if needed.
I raise my sword and my gaze widens as I realize how quickly he makes his way across the lengthy arena. I raise the blade and sweep it through the air just when he’s near enough.
I put every ounce of strength into that blow.
I’m jarred when the fae grips the shining blade in his fist, stopping the attack with ease. Swollen blue eyes stare curiously at me. The left one is bloodshot and graying around the iris. This monstrous man is fisting my sharp blade as if it’s nothing but an annoyance to him. For a second, I just gape at him. Until his fist tightens. With a tiny and insignificant move, he bends the length of my blade into an L shape.
An angry gasp falls from my lips at the sight of the angled blade.
“What the fuck?”
I jerk it away from his mammoth paws. The fae sways slightly as he stares down at me, blocking out the sun behind him.
Fury storms through my chest and with more anger than I’ve felt in years, I slam the bent blade through his bulky chest. I have to angle the attack in an unusual way because of the damage he’s done on the beautiful blade.
Most of it sinks in. Stopping where the blade arches at a different angle. The hilt of it sticks out of him like a bent nail sunk into an old board.
Fucking dungeon troll.
I’m pouting and stomping around. I’m weaponless while I circle the most dangerous opponent the gods could have found for me.
Tristan had my blade in his possession for days and no harm came of it. This asshole touches it for a second and destroys it like a toothpick.
As Druw looks down at the blade plunged into his chest his features fall. More so than usual.
His lip curls, revealing nubs of rotted teeth. His gaze drifts to me and before I can even shield myself he grips my wing.
I lunge to run but he only tightens his grasp. The fine bones break beneath his powerful grip and I wince from the feel of the stabbing pain prickling down my spine.
With a growl, he hurls my body against the wall. My shoulder hits hard, my soft wings taking most of the impact. Grit scrapes against my bare shoulder, tearing slightly at the skin. My cheek stings against the blow and I know it’ll bruise quickly.
A deep breath fills my lungs and I stand slowly on swaying legs.
Druw shakes his head and takes a few steps back, my blade still protruding from his chest. Not a drop of blood coats the wound.
“Druw,” I take another short breath, realizing how much my lungs hurt, “I don’t want to hurt you, Druw.”
His wobbling head turns to me once more. A sadness is etched into the depths of his gaze. It’s like it’s pouring from him. It might be all he feels, if nothing else.
