POV Luella
I sat beside Tobias at the high table, my wolf stirring restlessly. The great hall buzzed with excitement as nobles gathered for the combat trials.
"Lords and ladies," the herald proclaimed, "His Majesty announces the traditional combat trials—fights to first blood, where visiting wolves prove their strength and honor."
Real fighting. This is what I've trained for my entire life.
"Luella," Tobias said, his voice firm, "you will not participate in this barbaric display. I forbid it."
Forbid? "With respect, I intend to participate. My father expects me to represent our pack."
Who does he think he is? We're not even married yet.
"Your father isn't here," Tobias snapped, his grip tightening on my wrist.
"Tobias, I've trained for this my entire life."
"Luella, you're too precious to risk in such violence. What if someone scarred that beautiful face?"
He's treating me like a delicate ornament again. "I can handle myself in combat."
"Can you?" His tone was cutting. "I've seen what happens to women who get ideas above their station."
I'm an Alpha's daughter. How is that above my station?
"I'm participating," I said firmly.
I stood before he could stop me and walked to the registration table. My wolf purred as I signed my name.
This feels right for the first time since I arrived.
The trials began. My first opponent was a viscount's daughter who shifted partially. I was faster, sidestepping her attack and drawing first blood across her shoulder.
This is who I am. Not some pretty political prize, but a warrior.
My second opponent was a count's son who underestimated me. He paid for his mistake when I sliced my claws across his forearm.
By my third victory, the crowd was buzzing. I caught Tobias watching from the high table, his face dark with anger.
He should be proud. Why does my success make him angrier?
"How pathetic," Kyrell's voice cut through the applause. "The little Luna wanted to play warrior, and everyone indulged her fantasies."
Rage burned through me.
"Then fight me," I said, my voice carrying across the arena.
I'm tired of his arrogance.
I felt Tobias's sharp intake of breath. When I glanced up, his face was flushed with rage. He half-rose as if to intervene, but the crowd's attention was already fixed on the challenge. He sank back down, his eyes promising we would discuss this later.
He's furious. But I don't care anymore.
Kyrell laughed, cold and mocking. "I don't waste time on children pretending to be soldiers."
"Then you're a coward," I shot back.
The crowd gasped. Kyrell's black eyes flashed with fury as he rose from his seat.
"Very well, little wolf," he said, stepping into the arena. "Let's see how you bleed."
The moment we faced each other, the world narrowed. There was only him and me.
This is different. More dangerous. He wants to hurt me.
He struck first, moving faster than anyone I'd ever fought. Shadow magic wrapped around his claws as they whistled past my face.
He could have killed me.
"Too slow," he taunted, his wolf surfacing.
I spun away and lashed out with my own claws, catching his ribs. Fabric tore but no blood appeared.
"Too weak," I replied.
He's the most skilled fighter I've ever faced. But I won't run.
We circled each other, both partially shifted now. His shadow magic coiled around him while my wolf fully awakened.
I've never fought anyone who used magic. I have to rely on pure skill and speed.
He feinted left then struck right. I caught his wrist, using his momentum to throw him off balance. He recovered instantly, spinning to rake his claws across my shoulder.
Pain shot through me. Blood soaked through my dress.
"First blood," he said with a cruel smile.
I touched my shoulder, fingers coming away red. But when I looked at him, I saw blood on his neck where my claws had grazed him.
"Check again," I said.
His expression shifted from triumph to rage.
The fight turned violent. We moved fast and brutal—strike and counter-strike. His shadow magic lashed out while I answered with raw speed.
This isn't a formal duel anymore. And I want to beat him. I want to prove I'm not helpless.
He caught my wrist and pulled me close, close enough that I could smell wine on his breath.
Even drunk, he's this good.
"You fight dirty," I panted.
"You fight desperately," he countered.
Maybe I am fighting desperately to prove I'm more than what everyone thinks.
I headbutted him hard, breaking free. Blood streamed from his nose but he was already moving again, shadow magic wrapping around his fist.
I twisted away, the blow glancing off. The impact sent me stumbling. He pressed his advantage with a vicious combination that I barely deflected.
He's stronger. But I'm faster. And I'm more motivated.
I ducked under his swing and came up inside his guard. My elbow caught him in the solar plexus, doubling him over. As he gasped for air, I grabbed his shoulders and brought my knee toward his face.
He caught my leg, using my momentum to spin me around. I hit the ground hard, rolling away just as his claws raked the stone where my head had been.
Too close. He really is trying to hurt me now.
I sprang to my feet as he launched himself at me. We collided in midair, both grappling. His claws found my arm while mine caught his cheek, opening a cut from his eye to his jaw.
I marked his face. He'll have a scar there.
We crashed to the ground, rolling and striking. He ended up on top, his hand around my throat, shadow magic crackling between his fingers.
He's going to kill me.
But I'd been ready for this. My legs came up, hooking around his waist. I used his momentum and my leverage to flip our positions.
Father taught me that move when I was twelve.
Before he could recover, I was on top of him, my hand around his throat as his shadow magic died.
I won. I actually won.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but I was focused entirely on the man beneath me, whose black eyes burned with fury.
He's angry that he lost to me. To a woman.
"You'll regret this, little wolf," he whispered. "I promise you that."
A threat. But I'm not afraid anymore. I beat him once.
I released him and rose to my feet, offering my hand in good sportsmanship. He deliberately ignored it, standing without assistance and walking away without a word.
Coward. He can dish out insults but when someone beats him, he can't even manage basic courtesy.
As I watched him leave, I felt triumph and unease. I'd proven myself today. But I'd also made a dangerous enemy.