Chapter 1
Kate Bishop was going to die today.
Even without Yelena’s gift of observation, or her awareness training, it was abundantly clear to anyone with common sense what was about to occur.
Tournaments were nothing more than bloodsport. Entertainment for the rich and powerful in the form of death and carnage. People still feigned ignorance to the fact. Argued that those who fought did so for honour and glory.
Though the cash prize offered by the Vostokoffs was impossible to pass up for anyone in the peasantry, starving as they were.
“Kate Bishop, child of Derek Bishop,” Declared a man stood near her mother’s throne, his chest puffed. “Her Majesty, Queen Melina Vostokoff generously offers you the chance to fight Her Majesty’s favoured warrior for the hand of her youngest daughter. Do you accept?”
Yelena had long since grown used to her mother’s antics. If there was one thing Melina loved more than blood sport, it was gambling. A few months back, perhaps she would have been more shocked at the frivolous offer of her hand but as of now, it was to be expected.
Sides, despite her nature, Melina was a calculating woman, and she wouldn’t lose her last eligible child to such a bet. If she did, well, it’s not like marriage was anything more than an easy way to form a link between families. Only the peasantry viewed a union as permanent. Divorce would be easily achieved if the need arose.
Kate Bishop hesitated visibly. Still panting, confusion clear on her handsome face before she steeled herself, coming to a decision.
“I accept.” She called out, to the ravenous delight of the crowd. Cheers and roars of applause and approval came from all around the colosseum. As if Kate had a choice to begin with.
“Excellent.” Melina giggled excitedly from her seat, squeezing Alexei’s hand. The sentiment was echoed by her husband, then by the announcer. Yelena simply rolled her eyes.
Fanfare followed soon after. The gated wall opposite the entrance, where the Queen’s chosen fighters emerged from, was slowly pulled upwards.
Kate Bishop was not a fighter. Despite her lithe, strong stature. Her ability to surpass the first two rounds. Her apparent strength.
She was the daughter of a rich merchant who died when she was young. The Bishop name was a noble name, and a name tarnished by her criminal mother years later. A name belonging now only to Kate and Kate alone.
The fealty loved an underdog story. Everyone did. It was vastly entertaining to root for the disadvantaged. It brought hope.
This was not going to be an underdog story.
From the gate, out stepped Melina’s favoured warrior. A man who towered over Kate in height, size and musculature. A man with years of training and experience, and a man who fought to kill.
It was a slaughter.
The first look at the man caused Kate to pale, faltering visibly. Despite the distance, and the loud cheers echoing through the coliseum, Yelena felt she heard Kate audibly gulp.
It was cruel. To call out such an experienced fighter against a Challenger so obviously disadvantaged.
Maybe she would have spoken out against this flagrant injustice.
Maybe if she was years younger, and still naively believed her parents would listen to a word she had to say. Maybe if she had even an ounce of the power everyone thought she had, she would have spoken up.
But she didn’t. And she knew her family weren’t the only ones present who enjoyed an execution.
The bugle blew, the battle began.
Kate quickly rose her bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver.
Melina wasn’t a monster, Kate was allowed to select her weapon of choice.
Unfortunately, so was her opponent.
The Warrior blazed forward, towards Kate like a raging bull. He let out a cry as the arrow hit him in the leg, then the other.
To Kate’s credit, she was a good shot. The best Yelena had ever seen.
Her only mistake was that she was much too kind to aim for the neck.
It took seconds for the Warrior to reach her, even as she scrambled backwards.
His sword came up and slashed downwards in a single blow that Kate tripped over her feet dodging. Just barely managing to roll out of the way of the next one.
The Warrior bellowed as another arrow hit him in the side, though it didn’t have the intended effect. He only faltered in his movements to snap the backs off of the arrows in his legs. Uninhibited.
Kate was only managing to make him angrier.
This time, he charged faster.
The Challenger barely managed to scramble to her feet before she was ducking under each slash of his sword.
She tried to move backwards, gain distance to make her weapon more useful but the Warrior was relentless.
It didn’t take long for Kate’s back to hit the stone steel metal of the entrance. The gate had already been closed to prevent Challengers from fleeing.
Yelena watched the moment Kate realised this wasn’t like her other rounds.
Kate couldn’t win by knocking out her opponent. Or making them surrender.
This was to the death.
Her bow was snatched out of her hands, her slim chances diminished by the second.
The Warrior gripped Kate by the throat, meaty hand wrapping around smooth skin and tightening.
By now, Yelena could see the bloodlust in her parents’ eyes, smiles.
In the cheers bellowing from the audience.
In their gaping mouths and ravenous cries.
Just like she could see the panic clear across Kate’s face. In her gaping maw, the desperate scrambling of her boots for purchase as she was lifted from the ground. In the widening of her eyes.
The Warrior didn’t kill her there, no. He threw her across the arena, back into the centre.
Kate tumbled and rolled painfully over the scattered spears of previous challengers. The wind knocked out of her as she gasped and coughed, arrows from her quiver littering the floor.
She had managed to harm the Warrior. Something no other Challenger had ever done.
Even if that harm was three measly arrows. Even if that harm was the equivalent of a flick to the forehead for him.
It was still no less humiliating for the Queen’s favoured to be hurt by a disgraced peasant.
The Warrior could not let such embarrassment slide. He needed to defend his position. He needed to make it a show.
Slow, deliberate steps approached Kate. The vibrations of the ground the only indicator, as the sound was drowned by the cheers.
Cheers for her death. Roars of applause and laughter at her passing. Her slaughter.
Kate’s vision was blurry from the dust kicked up from her tumble. From the pain and weariness she felt in her bones. From her quiver pressing painfully into her back.
The tears in her eyes blurred the faces of the crowd together in a horrifying amalgamation of sadism and hunger that would surely haunt Kate in her nightmares.
Though that wasn’t really something she had to worry about. Kate screamed as the Warrior’s sword pierced her shoulder, cracking bone with a sickening crunch. Seeing as she was to die right there.
The Warrior continued his theatrics. Withdrawing the sword and stabbing the same spot, then slashing deeply across her midsection. He finished by stomping his heavy boot full force against Kate’s stomach. Keeping her in place as he rose his arms to signal cheers from the crowd.
Her body lurched upwards involuntarily, even as her aching, bleeding shoulder protested the movement, in order to choke out a splattering of blood and vomit against the boot compressing her organs.
Scrambling hands looked for an out. A way to turn the tables, to save herself.
Yelena had seen the desperate fumbling of a dying Challenger enough to know it was of no use.
Kate’s uninjured arm managed to reach a stray arrow, jamming the thing into the Warrior’s foot.
He roared with pain. Her attack finally having an effect, as she dug in the metal head and twisted.
The Warrior fell backwards onto the floor, momentarily stunned before he quickly recovers.
He unsheathed a dagger from the numerous on his belt. From his collection of trophies taken from previous challengers.
A dark shadow loomed over the exhausted Challenger. A face double the size of her own, twisted up in rage and a dagger inches from her throat.
Despite the pain it caused, Kate held his wrist with injured hand, pushing it with all the strength she had but still the dagger approached.
Inch by inch, second by second. The dagger grew closer, till the point dug into her skin.
The audience watched in ecstasy. Waiting for the sweet sweet smell of death. For the light to leave Kate’s beautiful blue eyes.
No one was watching her free hand.
Kate’s wrist flew upwards, pushing one of the daggers from the Warrior’s own belt into his left eye socket.
A hush fell over the crowd. A hush that made the Warrior’s bloodcurdling scream all the louder.
With all her remaining strength, Kate pushed his heavy body off of her. Grunting as she forced herself upwards.
Maybe it was adrenaline, or panic, or fear. But the look in Kate’s eyes were like nothing Yelena had ever seen.
Almost feral, in a way. Wild and savage and entirely unwelcome on Kate’s innocent face.
She pulled the dagger from the Warrior’s eye, straddling his waist and splattering blood and gore across the both of them, before stabbing it right back into his eye.
She withdrew the knife, and stabbed his other eye.
She withdrew the knife, and stabbed his face.
She withdrew the knife, and stabbed again.
And again. And again. And again.
With each blow, her aim would grow messier and weaker. Turning the Warrior’s face into an unrecognisable bloody mess.
When time finally slowed and she caught herself, she was breathing heavily.
A beat.
Then momentous shrieks and hollers erupted from the audience. Yelena blinked, broken from her shock by the noise.
Clapping, this time much closer to her pulled Yelena’s eyes from the impossible sight and to her mother, who had stood from her throne.
“Close your mouth, дорогой, you will catch a fly.” Melina spoke through a tight lipped smile.
“She is full of surprises.” Alexei laughed loudly, openly applauding the show of brutality. “I thought the she would be too green to kill. Her fire will be a good quality for a husband.”
“You,” Yelena could barely process what had just happened. A glance back to the arena showed Kate frozen in place. The dagger had fallen from her trembling, bloody hands and she looked distraught. “You can not be serious.”
A snap of Melina’s fingers brought one of the servants, Valentina, hurrying forward.
“Begin preparations for the wedding. I want the larger ballroom ready by the eve.”