With a crash, the gate locks behind, sealing the Princess inside until the Trial is complete.
“AURA SIGVIDSSON-REDWOOD! FINAL TRIAL!”
No more second thoughts.
To wear the crown and lead someday, they must look to her as the true daughter of Sigvid and Avina and not a weakling.
Once the horn bellows across the field, she tears off across the stadium, exiting the opposite gate and beginning a timed run up the slope of Fjell Mountain. She has taken the path since her father could put a small axe in her hand. Overhead, the sky opens up, delivering a torrential downpour of cold, sideways rain.
She plunges ahead, grateful her long curls are braided out of her face. Along the path, Drengr are strategically concealed in the woods, clad in dark cloaks. They will track her progress and report back to her sister and the Lady Commander of the Drengr, Thora.
Eventually, she reaches the halfway point of the slope, only to be struck by a club against her thigh. Aura drops to the muddy ground, gasping as a mountainous warrior roars against a jagged lightning strike in the black sky. She rolls to the side, withdrawing a dagger just in time to embed the blade into the attacker’s calf.
Her challenger staggers back, allowing her to leap to her feet and assume a block. They grapple back and forth until he becomes wary, allowing her to slide to her knees and, with a vital hit, take out his legs.
Without accepting her time check, she begins her trek back down the mountain. The exertion burns her lungs, and the cold rain chills her bones.
A thunderous wave of applause erupts as she bursts back into the stadium through a back gate, the energy electrifying the air around her!
Aura bends over, her hands clutching her knees as she takes a well-earned moment to catch her breath.
I deserve a hot bath after this.
She jogs to the lone imposing tower in the center of the field. When she reaches the uneven wooden ladder built into the side of the structure, she practically slams her palms against the rungs slick from the rain. As she begins her ascent, the announcer’s voice rings out the type of challenge she will soon encounter.
“AURA SIGVIDSON-REDWOOD HAS BEEN CHALLENGED TO A DEATH MATCH.”
What?Her whole body seizes. In that moment, she can hear the relentless pounding of her heart, drowning out the cheers of the crowd.
She should turn back.
A Death Match?
To challenge a warrior in their final Trial, Drengrs must submit an anonymous request. The confrontation is never revealed until the final moment, creating tension among the viewers and the recruit.
What would Pops do in this situation?
He would confront this asshole head-on.
With shaky hands, she pulls herself to the summit of the tower.
When she reaches the top, pain explodes along the back of her head. Her opponent drags her forward by her braid.
“Hello, Aura, welcome to the end.” A familiar feminine voice cuts through the storm.
Her instincts kick in before she can fully process the sound of steel singing through the air as she struggles against the tower floor. The thunk that follows the blade also releases the tension on her plait. When she fumbles along the back of her head, she gingerly touches her new split ends to find her braid is gone.
She shivers, clutching her short curls. Her blood boils with anger at the injustice, a borderline sacrilegious action—the physical representation of her dedication to becoming a warrior and honoring her Guardian bloodline.
Aura grinds her teeth as she focuses on the worn floorboards of the tower’s summit. The knuckles of her fists whiten before she pushes to her feet to confront her betrayal.
Isabel's narrowed brown gaze lock with hers with a determinationthat clenches her stomach. Her friend twirls an axe with deft precision while a round shield rests in her non-dominant hand.
“Issie…” This is not the time to consider motivation. And yet, Aura cannot help the sensation that none of what is happening is real. “Is this a jest?”
Isabel tilts her head to the side. “The only jest here is that you are Avina Bloodstone’s daughter. The brilliant Queen,” she mocks. “And here, you still don’t know who I am.”
I am going to be fucking sick. “You pushed me to train and…and… we laid together. I thought we were at least friends.”
