Free Web NovelChapter 26: Chapter 26
There was a smile on the queen’s face as not one but two lords stood up from their seats immediately after her announcement. A third man stood up as well but he did so more hesitantly.
The fourth person was someone Circe didn’t expect. At the center row, Casilo joined the challengers, his expression unreadable. The queen’s ladies in waiting gasped in shock but the queen’s smile only grew.
Circe didn’t know what to make of it. Why was Casilo publicly challenging Ragnar? She thought they were allies, friends even. What was he getting out of it? Was this why he was acting strange last night?
Ragnar’s gaze left the queen and settled on his second in command who was now standing up to challenge him. His eyes were still black as pitch as he scanned the rows of spectators for any more contenders.
No one else from the crowd stood and the queen clapped her hand once to get everyone’s attention.
" We have our challengers and they will get the privilege of facing off with prince Ragnar in the arena. All forms of weapons are allowed." The queen said and a deep pit formed in Circe’s gut.
Ragnar had just gone up against a beast larger than he was, and his leg was still badly injured, the chances of him holding his own out there against four men were very slim. Surely the queen knew this. Surely the queen knew that since the beast hadn’t killed him, this definitely would. She knew and she still willingly sent Ragnar to his death.
This was the queen’s doing, she couldn’t keep pretending and lying about Ragnar wanting this.
When the queen retook her seat, Circe decided to ask the question that had been eating her up from the inside.
" What happens if Ragnar loses?" Circe asked.
The queen’s smile was still intact. " Should he fail, a new man will take his place as your husband."
Circe listened to the queen speak, heard every word out of her lips and it took everything she had not to bend over and retch. Every time she heard the word husband, her mind interpreted it as ’owner’. Jailer.
Circe hated Ragnar for what he did to her kingdom and she couldn’t stand to be around him most of the time, but the thought of being a prisoner to yet another man, the thought of being passed around like a prize to be fought over, made her stomach churn. She wasn’t a princess or a responsible member of society anymore. To them she wasn’t even a person; if they weren’t betting against her survival, or trying to kill her, then they were using her as a trophy.
Her heart squeezed painfully. This was what she had become. A toy for the nobles’ amusement. When she closed her eyes, she pictured home, the familiar corridors and manicured lawns she and her older brother used to run along each day when they were younger, chasing and racing one another. She would see her mother’s face, with grey eyes that matched Circe’s exactly. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
Circe’s father had never been good at raising children but his relationship with her mother was the type bards wrote songs about. When she remembered her parents, she remembered the laugh lines on her mother’s face, a result of smiling each day. She remembered the way her father’s hand always lingered on her mother whenever they were in the same room. She remembered how hard and fiercely they loved each other that the emotion sometimes felt like a tangible thing. They would both be horrified if they knew the situation their daughter was in.
Just as the last one of the contenders made his way off the stands, Prince Hairan stood up from his seat as well.
" I wish to join the challengers." Hairan said.
Circe’s gaze snapped his way and the queen did so as well.
Five against one, the odds were only getting worse.
Nheera wrapped her slender fingers around her son’s arm, trying to force him back into his seat but Hairan simply jerked his hand out of her grip before walking away without looking back at her.
Panic flickered over the queen’s face as she watched Hairan walk off, heading for the arena.
Circe pretended like she hadn’t noticed their interaction.
The queen wasn’t the only one looking at Prince Hairan. Ragnar was watching too. He smiled when Hairan stepped into the arena. It reminded Circe of a spider watching an unsuspecting prey wander into its web.
The queen didn’t specify on the way the fight was to be conducted, whether the challengers were meant to fight Ragnar one at a time or all at once. So when the first and third challengers drew out swords, no one batted an eye, least of all the queen.
Ragnar turned to face his armed attackers and summoned his shadows once more. It was the only way Circe could describe it. The next moment the wispy tendrils appeared, spilling through his pores, his eyes and fingers. Quick as a whip, the tendrils grabbed one of the armed men by the throat and flung him hard against the wall, letting his body crumpled to the ground.
The second one barely hesitated, charging straight for Ragnar, sword swinging. Ragnar dodged but his injured leg meant he wasn’t fast enough. The sword slashed the exposed portion of his arm. When the attacker drew back, his sword was stained red. He swung again but missed.
Ragnar’s shadows formed a whip once more and he used it to slash at the hand that held the sword. The man screamed in pain as he clutched his hand, the sword falling to the ground. Ragnar’s whip hadn’t just lashed the man’s hand, it had taken one of his fingers as well. Blood gushed from the hand where the finger should have been. The severed digit laid on the floor right next to the man’s sword.
Casilo and the other last two challengers surrounded him now. Two in front, one behind. Casilo threw the first punch, then another. The third went wide when Ragnar dodged and managed to block the fourth. Another man rushed at him but he moved out of the way before he could get pummeled. The entire fight was chaos.
Casilo landed another hit while he was distracted and Ragnar retaliated just as hard with a fist to Casilo’s jaw. Casilo stumbled back from the hit and spat out a glob of blood, chest heaving with exertion.
His shadows lashed out when he spotted the fourth man creeping towards the fallen sword.
" Pick up the sword and I’ll run you through with it." Ragnar warned.
The man didn’t listen. The moment his hand touched the hilt, Ragnar’s shadows wrapped around his neck. The harder he squeezed, the wider the man’s eyes bulged. He wriggled and thrashed but the noose kept him in place, growing tighter until his struggles ceased. Once he was unconscious, Ragnar flung the man’s limp body to the ground. It rolled several times before coming to a halt.
Ragnar’s chest heaved with every breath. Fatigue weighed down his limbs until it felt like he was dragging his body with every step he took. The pain from his wounds and bruises made it harder to focus.
Ragnar took a step. He was struggling to catch his breath when pain lanced his back. Hairan fisted Ragnar’s hair, using it to pull his brother’s head back. He pulled out the knife he stabbed into Ragnar’s back before forcing it back into the wound.
Whenever Ragnar tried to move, Hairan would pull his head back further. Hairan’s lips were stretched into a maniac grin, his eyes like toxic flames.
Ragnar kicked Hairan’s knees hard enough to send him stumbling back. Hairan managed to pull out the knife as he did, holding up the bloodied weapon. Blood poured down Ragnar’s back.
The two brothers rushed at one another with bared teeth and raised fists. Ragnar landed the first hit. Hairan slashed the knife across the open wound on Ragnar’s arms. But Ragnar’s hits didn’t stop. He landed blow after blow on Hairan’s body until they tackled each other to the ground. Ragnar knocked the knife out of Hairan’s hand as they crashed to the ground, and it skidded away. frёeωebɳovel.com
They rolled and wrestled on the floor, both of them trying to subdue the other. Ragnar managed to get on top, his blood dripping down on to Hairan’s shirt. Ragnar pinned Hairan to the dirt, forcing him to remain down with both knees to his chest. Hairan tried to buck Ragnar off but flailing did nothing for his situation.
Ragnar punched Hairan’s face so hard, his head smacked the ground. The second hit followed quickly after the first. The third broke bone. By the fourth, there was blood. Ragnar soon lost count of the hits he doled out. He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t feeling. The pain in his limbs and the injuries felt like a distant memory. The blood, Hairan’s blood, was like paint on a canvas but instead of creating something new, he was destroying it with his fist.
He knew he could kill Hairan if he continued his assaults but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He like the feeling of bone breaking under his fist and the feeling of drawing blood from his opponents far too much to stop now. Perhaps the palace’s servants were smart to be scared of him. Only a monster would enjoy something like this.
" Enough!" The queen yelled. " Stop it! That’s enough!"
Ragnar registered that it probably wasn’t the first time the queen had shouted for him to stop. But as the sound of the commotion happening around him filtered back in, so did the pain and fatigue. He rolled off Hairan’s body and landed flat on his back, wincing at the pain. The more his blood poured around him, the harder it was to remain conscious. He tried to lift his arm but couldn’t.
The last thing he saw was palace guards rushing to offer Hairan aid. No one touched Ragnar, no one came for him. The next moment everything went dark.
