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Applause and shouting roars in my ears. Monsters hop up and shove tables and chairs out of the way, preparing the fighting ring. Orcus is trembling with anger as I step away from the table.
“Daisy.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, nodding with more confidence than I feel. This is going to suck.
“Daisy,” he says a little louder.
I stop and walk back toward him. He bends down so we’re face to face, and I grab his tusks, pulling him in for a bruising kiss. “If you embarrass me in front of my friends, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Those monsters aren’t your friends,” he growls.
“Semantics.” I shrug. “You know I have to do this.”
“No,” he denies the truth. “No one cares about the fights.”
“Liar,” I whisper. “Orlena will make sure I don’t die. I can handle a few hits.”
“I don’t like it.”
I shrug. “I didn’t like it when you and your father fought.”
“He did this.”
“Yup, but we’re not going to let him win.”
“He wins either way.”
Blowing out a harsh breath, I release his tusks. “Maybe so, but I’m doing this and you’re going to let it happen.”
He scowls, but doesn’t demand I do what I’m told. Smart monster. He may hate it, but the fact is, I’ve made it my choice. Sure, I was backed against a wall, but I could have let Orcus stop it. I could have avoided the fight. The monsters would never respect me. More than their gowns and flock of ladies in waiting, a queen needs respect. Otherwise, the title is no use.
“Come along, sister,” Orlena says, walking past us. “It’ll be over in a few minutes.”
With my heart in my throat, I join her in the makeshift fighting ring. All I can hear is the blood rushing through my ears. Orlena drops into a fighting stance, and I mimic her. Orlena’s gaze skates over me from head to toe and her frown deepens. I should have taken the three cardio kickboxing classes I took a little more seriously. My heart batters against my rib cage.
Orlena begins to move. She’s quicker than I thought and I don’t see the first hit until it’s too late. Her palm cracks across my cheek and her nails scrape over my skin.
“First blood!”
Pain radiates through my skull but I stay on my feet. I throw a few lame punches and Orlena dodges every one, disapproval deepening the lines on her face.
“You never learned to fight?”
“Didn’t really need to,” I say, jumping away from a slow punch she sends in my direction.
She and I both know she’s not giving it her all. Crouching and swinging her foot around, she sweeps my legs out from under me, and I go down. I tuck my chin to keep the back of my head from smacking into the stone floor. Orlena pounces on me, pinning me to the floor. Even though it’s pointless, I don’t give up. I try to buck her off. She lands a few light punches to my stomach. Grunting, I punch her in the stomach. She barely blinks, grabbing both of my arms and gouging me with her nails in two rough swipes, one right after the other.
The pain tears a cry from my lips and moisture fills my eyes.
“Second and third blood,” she screams.
The crowd revels at my swift defeat, laughing and clapping and shouting. Orlena holds her hands above her head and pretends to bask in the glory of victory. I cover my face with my bloodied arms to hide the tears. By the time she helps me up, the tears are gone but my limbs shake. I’m not built for fighting. Ihateconfrontation. Blood trickles down my arms and face. I tip my chin and muster as much dignity as I can as I head to the table, ignoring the pain as best I can. Before I can take my seat, Orcus carries me from the room.
I don’t argue.
THIRTY-NINE
Lagertha the Trull
