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At this point, Godric is livid. He might be ruthless, too, but this isn’t how he runs his pack. The veins in his arm bulge as he makes a fist I’m sure he wants to pummel through King Njord’s face.

You and me both.

After the survivor has been dragged off to be paraded in front of the royals, who inspect her like cattle, the next pair heads onto the sands. My stomach turns as two shifters pick up the body and cart her away.

This is insane.

I glance at Arwan again. He’s not watching me this time. His gaze is also on the wall, and he’s narrowing his blue eyes at the royal holding the bow and arrow. Based on his pissed-off expression, it’s someone he knows.

Another scream sounds after a few moments, and my hands start to sweat.

Ferra laughs.

When it’s my turn to head onto the sands, I can’t step somewhere that isn’t already soaked red with blood.

My stomach churns, and Ferra seems to indulge in every shred of fear that tears through me. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction, but there’s no way out of this one.

I’m about to take an arrow to the chest.

Thinking of my sister, of Sofia, and of the injustice of it all, I slowly unwrap the bandage holding my left arm together.

A weak plan forms in my mind.

“Already giving up?” Ferra jibes.

“Hardly,” I say back. My voice might tremble, but I’m not letting someone like Ferra get the better of me.

This isn’t how my story ends.

The royals watching from the sidelines murmur with interest, and I can sense all eyes on me.

Especially Godric’s and Arwan’s.

And maybe… the archer on the wall who has already set his sights on me. I can definitely sense someone up there watching.

Ignoring all the attention, I fully home in on Ferra, who bends her knees in a trained combat posture. She’s practically giddy.

As she should be. The only training I’ve had is to spot the subtle differences in body language, not how to kill someone outright.

Still, Ferra’s body must have a weakness somewhere. No one is rock solid.

Except maybe Godric.

Ferra roars and goes in for an obvious direct kill. I can’t handle her head-on, but I don’t need to.

Sidestepping her, I loop the long bandage around her neck. I keep hold of both ends, and she jerks backward when I pull.

I’ve been watching to extract the rules. The archer has been deciding the winner based on who hits the ground first. All I had to do was to make Ferra fall.

But the injustice of it all makes my body react before I can think about what I’m doing. I yank my hand up to block her heart with my arm, and I wait for the pain to follow.

There is none.

Silently, a body falls from the wall.

When I look up, there’s no evidence of who took out the archer, but I still sense someone from that direction watching me.

My eyes widen.