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The lines on her face deepen. “Okay?”
Nodding, I stand and join my father in the middle of the floor, glancing back at the royal table. My mother’s hands are clenched on top of the table and her lips are pursed in displeasure. She hates these fights. Orlena’s face is red, and she’s clutching the pommel of her knife like she’d join in if only someone would ask her. I don’t check in with my younger siblings. Seeing any more disapproval might make me second guess what I’m doing, and as future king, backing down would make people question my right to the throne.
The only choice is to fight and my father knew that.
Perhaps this was his plan all along.
I face him on the stone floor. Everyone says we’re almost identical, but when I look at him all I see is a father and a husband who failed in every respect. I never realized that I hated him until this very moment.
“There it is,” he says, smirking at me. “Fifth blood,” he shouts again and lunges toward me.
His fists are heavy and fast, a ram battering a door. Every beat splinters a part of me I didn’t know still existed. I play defense, dodging as many punches as I can, but it’s impossible to avoid them all. One catches my chin and my head whips to the side right as his other fist slams into my gut. I grind my teeth together to keep from collapsing and kick, aiming for his head, but he catches my leg and uses his hold to flip me onto my back. The air wheezes out of me and my father’s fists rain down on me.
“Orcus!”
Daisy’s concern strikes me through the bond harder than any punch my father could throw.
“Listen to your little flower crying,” he says right before his knuckles slam into my jaw. Blood and spit fly out of my mouth and pain rocks through my skull.
“First blood,” someone calls from the crowd.
“Fight me like I know you can,” father demands. He climbs off of me and waits for me to get up.
I contemplate staying on the ground for a moment, but get up anyway.
He snarls and comes at me again. The bond screams with Daisy’s concern, but I block it all out, focusing only on the pain and adrenaline flooding through my body. I have no intention of giving in to what he wants, no intention of fighting back, but then he threatens Daisy again and everything turns red. I hurl myself at him, pummeling him with my fists.
The bastard laughs. His punches don’t land as hard as they should, but I’m blinded by rage. How dare he threaten Daisy?
“Second blood!”
I don’t stop. I don’t let him get up. His ribs. His face. His groin. I take every shot that’ll cause real damage.
“Third!”
“Fourth,” is called with more trepidation.
No one expects the king to lose.
“Fifth,” someone calls loud enough for me to hear over the blood roaring in my ears. Father groans from where he lies on the floor and silence follows that sound. My chest is heaving and my limbs shake, begging to be let loose and end the threat to our mate once and for all, but I can’t kill the king, not if I want anyone to respect me when I take the throne.
I stomp toward him and fear lights up the bond. Daisy. I hate that she fears me now, but I’ll do anything to protect her. Grabbing hold of his shirt, I drag my father toward my face. “Threaten my mate again, and next time I won’t stop.”
He turns and spits out a glob of blood. It splats when it hits the stone floor, and he smiles at me. “Your mate is safe. I only gave you the push you needed to show everyone why you’re taking the throne.”
“This isn’t a game,” I snap.
“No, but it is a show.” He tips his head toward the onlookers who are waiting with bated breath, wondering if the king will punish me for beating him. I had thought he wanted to kick my ass to show them all how amazing he is, but I was wrong. Once again, I let him play me. He pushed the right buttons to unleash a beast.
I shove him away and straighten, glaring at the crowd. “Your royal fight!” I shout and hold up my hands in victory.
Like that’s all they were waiting for, the crowd begins to shout and clap. Basil dips his head in respect. Instead of helping my father up, I move back toward the table, letting him bask in the aftermath of the show he put on.
* * *
After the fight,the party begins, and Daisy and I don’t stay for that. My mom grasps my hand and squeezes it, concern lining her face. She holds back whatever she wants to say. I ignore the king on our way out. Daisy is silent by my side, and I stare ahead, still blocking the bond. I don’t want to feel that fear again. I don’t think I can handle it.
We make it to our suite and Zyla suddenly appears. Her knowing gaze sweeps over my face and catalogs every visible bruise. She glances at Daisy and narrows her eyes at whatever she finds on my mate’s face or in her mind.
