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I go in for the finale.

Right.

Left.

Right.

She deflects all but the last punch. When her head snaps to the side, I use the moment to spin around and kick her in her injured leg.

She must have seen it coming. She catches my leg, kicking my other one out from under me. She becomes hellfire as she jumps on top of me, raining punches down on me. Though her hits our mainly body shots, her fist connects anywhere she sees an opening.

Shit.

I may actually lose this fight. Lose my chance to feel the sun kiss my face and the wind in my hair. Lose my chance at freedom—my chance for revenge.

Isit there, watching these barbaric fights unfold, in this dank hellhole of a prison. Thank the goddesses we are finally on the last one. It has been a long day. All I want is go home, eat, and sleep.

A short, undernourished-looking woman steps onto the stage. Her hair is the palest lavender color. I have never seen someone with that color of hair before—odd. Her opponent stands like a warrior, built for violence. If things go well, maybe I can recruit her for my royal guard—if she doesn’t win the trials. This will no doubt be a quick and easy fight for her.

Gong.

The lavender-haired girl immediately attacks. She charges like a demon from the double hells. Her ferocity catches me off guard, and I find myself equally shocked and impressed—intrigued even. She is utterly feral and formidable. I did not see that coming.

The opponent lands a few blows, busting her nose and splitting her lip, causing blood to flow down her chin.

I am on the edge of my seat with this fight. The lavender-haired girl wipes the blood away from her face and then smiles.

Shesmilesat her opponent.

I can’t help but smirk.

She is a reckless little thing.

They exchange brutal punches and kicks until the lavender-haired girl crashes to the ground. The warrior-looking prisoner is straddling her and hammering down with relentless punches. She may actually lose. Damn, I was rooting for the little reckless prisoner.

The next thing I know, the lavender-haired prisoner digs her heels into the stage and bucks the other prisoner off her. Now, she is on top. Now… it’s her turn. She is landing punch after punch. Blood splatters from the warrior prisoner on the bottom. I rise to my feet, sweat dripping down my face, watching—waiting to see what happens next.

With both hands raised together, high above her head, she slams them down in a crushing blow. Her opponent is knocked unconscious. She wins, but she doesn’t stop.

She continues beating her. Blood is leaking everywhere, splattering all around until a tall male prisoner who called to her during the fight, jumps up, and rips her off the other prisoner.

She rises, her chest heaving up and down. Blood is splattered across her face and clothes. Her lavender hair is now stained deep red. Turning toward us, she smiles, but there is nothing kind about it. She looks completely feral. What a dangerous, yet fascinating little creature.

The warden strides over to us, irritation radiating off him with each step. Kylo shifts beside me.

The warden bows to me. “Prince Lukene, your contestants.” He extends his hand to the prisoners that have now lined up before us. I pull out a large, heavy sack of coppers, and hand it to him. It’s more than enough to compensate him for his lost wages he will lose by giving up these prisoners, his best fighters for the ring. With a few threats and some coin, we have the prisoners we need.

I start at the right side of the line facing the prisoners, while one of my guards walks behind them. I start to walk the line slowly, assessing. They smell like shit, but I guess that is to be expected. They will need to beef up a bit too. Each one I pass slightly bows until I get toher.

Interesting.

I stop and take a step back, turning to face her. My eyes settle on hers. I find that I am transfixed by the defiance burning within her lavender eyes. I glimpse a fierce determination and a hint of vulnerability. It intrigues me. For a fleeting moment, we lock our gazes in a silent battle, each refusing to yield.

In her light purple depths, I sense a dark kindred spirit. There’s a spark of rebellion that ignites a dangerous curiosity deep within me. I raise the corners of my lips.

She narrows her eyes at me, clearly knowing I am toying with her, and spits on the ground at my feet.

My royal guard reacts immediately, kicking the back of her leg. She drops to her knees in front of me.