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The drumbeats pounded into my bones like a war song, or a song of lust, as heat infused my bloodstream. I was afraid that the song would never fade.

My body went hot, then cold, then hot again, and the chaos prince’s pet name “little dagger” haunted my restless mind.

24

No sport on Earth could compare to the supernatural hockey game. The supernaturals were playing in a bigger league. Human hockey players might be tough, but they were still mortals, susceptible to injuries. Supernaturals were more ruthless since every one of them could regenerate fast.

The sport was also a contest of dick size for the princes, serving as the prelude of a mating game—the biggest predator with the biggest cock would draw more females to his breeding pool and have his pick.

That was what the Brides Selection was all about, wasn’t it? Bea had told me about the Selection a few times. She was also one of the thousands of candidates.

I watched the Saints (Silas, Rowan, and Cade, with Dixie as their goaltender) and Sinners (Killian, Louis, a dark-haired girl whom I’d never met, and a man whom I saw hanging out with Killian as a goaltender) fight to take control of the puck with their hockey sticks.

One second, the Saints were driving the puck toward the Sinners’ gate. Then next, Killian shoulder-slammed into Silas and seized the puck.

Judging from the action on the ice, I could tell a bit about the relationship between the prince heirs. Both Killian and Louis didn’t like Silas, and vice-versa. Cade got along with everyone. I wasn’t sure about Rowan though.

Silas spun to the other end of the rink, but he managed to stop the motion by crouching on the ice, planting a hand in front of him. A less powerful being would’ve fallen on his ass. Snarling, Silas rose and sped toward Killian.

“To me, Killian!” Louis realized Silas’s intention and shouted at the chaos prince.

Killian passed the puck to Louis, who was the chaos prince’s left winger. Louis took over the puck and drove it forward, invading the Saints’ territory. Human players were quick on their feet, but these supernaturals were on another level. Their figures blurred on the ice, and it was getting harder to track their movements.

“Slow down, assholes,” I murmured.

Instead of going after the puck as he was supposed to, Silas charged Killian, rage darkening the shifter prince’s face as he swung his stick at the chaos prince. Killian wheeled away, smiling coldly, before he brought his stick up and struck back.

The sticks slammed into each other, emitting sparks.

Things are going to get ugly, I told Sy.

Woohoo! she cheered, her gaze mostly following Rowan as she licked her lips.

“Little Bob!” I heard Bea calling my name and turned my head.

My witch friend waved at me. I grinned and skated toward her to the edge of the ice. No one would lecture me on how to be a proper squire, since every eye was on the princes and their game.

“Little Bea!” I greeted. “Shouldn’t you be in the stands cheering for your prince?”

“I don’t like crowds,” she said.

“You and me both.”

“I saw Prince Killian laughing with you,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

At the reminder of my humiliation, my face reddened in anger. “He was fucking with me!”

I didn’t even want to dwell on the fact that he’d called me “little dagger” or what it meant. All I knew was that nothing good would come of it.

“You don’t get it,” Bea said. “You made him laugh. It’s rare that Prince Killian ever laughs. What did you say to him?”

I frowned at her after a blink. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

She smiled at me. She didn’t believe me. “There’s a connection between you and the prince heir of the House of Chaos. Maybe you belong to his house. I don’t think you’re a shifter. You aren’t a mage either.”

A shot of guilt washed over me. I’d been keeping dangerous secrets from my friend, but then my secrets could drag her down with me if I was discovered. It was best that she was kept in the dark as well.

The audience’s roars brought my attention back to the game on the ice.