“You’ll see your mate soon enough. At the public arena. We’ll fight not only for the crown, but for Faith herself. Winner takes all.”
Kovrak had told him he was a dead man in a voice stripped of all civility, but Varrek had ended the call before revealing where Faith was held. The echo of calculated cruelty still rang in his ears.
“It’s not merely a duel,” Kovrak said, his reflection’s eyes blazing with lethal intent. “It’s destabilization. Humiliation. He wants to break me before he kills me.”
“Then don’t let him,” Thalen said bluntly. “You’ve wanted to tear his throat out for years. Today you get to do it legally.”
The transport ride to the arena passed in suffocating silence, the city streets blurring past like half-remembered nightmares. Kovrak’s tiger pressed against his ribs, a coiled spring of violence begging for release.
Soon, he promised it.Soon they would have blood.
When the arena came into view—a massive stone colosseum that had witnessed a dozen challenges over the centuries—Kovrak felt something cold and final settle in his chest. Today would end in death. The only question was whose.
The sight that greeted him as they entered struck harder than any physical blow. The stands were already thick with bodies, his entire pride gathered in restless anticipation. But there was no celebration in their faces, no excitement for the spectacle to come.
There was only fear.
Raw, undisguised terror that their prince might fall, that Varrek’s ruthless ambition might claim not just the crown but their future stability. Children pressed close to their parents. Elders gripped their seats with white-knuckled hands. Warriors who had bled beside him in battle watched with the hollow-eyed dread of those facing inevitable loss.
“They need you steady,” Merral murmured as they descended toward the arena floor. “Not savage. Clear-minded, not consumed.”
Kovrak felt the burden settle across his shoulders like iron. He was not fighting only for love today, not merely to reclaim his stolen mate. He carried the weight of every soul in those stands, every life that would suffer under Varrek’s rule if he failed.
The arena floor stretched before them—ancient stone worn smooth by centuries of blood, the twin suns finally breaking through the clouds to cast harsh shadows across the sand.
“Remember,” Thalen said, his voice low and urgent. “Varrek fights dirty. Always has. Watch for tricks, for weapons, for anything that doesn’t belong.”
Kovrak nodded once, his gaze fixed on the entrance opposite them. Soon Varrek would emerge with Faith as his prize, and this nightmare would finally have its ending.
His tiger snarled its agreement, claws already extending beneath his skin.
The arena doors groaned open with the weight of destiny, and Kovrak’s world crystallized into lethal focus as Varrek emerged through the opposite entrance. But it was the sight of Faith beside him that drove rage deep into Kovrak’s chest—not bound, but moving with the careful deliberation of someone fighting through chemical fog. Her skin held the pallor of prolonged captivity, and each step seemed measured against invisible weakness.
Yet when their gazes collided across the sand, fire blazed in those warm brown eyes. Unbroken. Defiant.
Still his.
Through the mate bond’s muted connection, he felt her strength rallying despite whatever chemical cocktail still poisoned her system. Without hesitation, he poured his own power toward her through their bond—a silent torrent of promise and protection that cut through Varrek’s artificial barriers.
I am here. I will protect you. No matter the cost.
Her chin lifted with that familiar stubborn tilt, and triumph surged through him. Varrek had stolen her body, drugged her mind, but he had not touched her spirit.
“Stand over there and look pretty,” Varrek commanded, gesturing dismissively toward the arena’s edge. “The men have business to discuss.”
Faith moved with compliance, but Kovrak caught the intelligence in her apparent submission. She was playing a role, lulling Varrek into overconfidence.
Clever mate.
Varrek spread his arms wide, his voice booming across the packed stands. “Welcome, my future people, to witness strength in its purest form!” His green eyes glittered with theatricalarrogance. “Today you will see what true leadership looks like—not the weak sentimentality that has plagued our pride for twenty years.”
Kovrak’s tiger snarled, but he held his position. Let the bastard talk. Words meant nothing when blood would soon speak louder.
“Once I claim victory,” Varrek continued, his gaze sliding possessively toward Faith, “this remarkable woman will become my mate. Your future queen deserves a king who dominates, who commands respect through power rather than pathetic vulnerability.”
The crowd shifted uneasily. Several elders exchanged sharp glances.
Before Kovrak could respond, Faith stepped forward with an instinctual grace that silenced the arena. “That’s enough.”