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Sixteen

Queen of The Wastes

I turn away as he steps closer. I have nothing left to say to that man who was once my father. He’s my past, and I am over him. Instead, I crouch at the edge of the graves, running my finger over the words I carved there. They are rough and raw, not perfect, but for some reason, that seems right.

The sign is easy to read. Hope. That was what his name meant, and burying him means the same.

This is our hope. On Vass, I wrote love, because he taught me to love and trust again.

He shared his pain and past with me. He may have been a warrior, but he was a lover all the way through.

Everyone he touched felt it, felt his true, pure heart. He was a good man. A better friend.

“See you soon. I’ll keep count until we meet,” I whisper to him with a sad smile. “Got to say, I’m going to win though.” I laugh before looking over to Major. “Take care of them, will you? Like you did me. They are my family.”

Swallowing back the pain of the finality of my goodbye, I let the sun heat my skin, warming me with a strange sense of rightness.

It fills me and all the dark places inside me, and just for a moment, I can breathe easily, no weight, no responsibility.

Just a woman soaking in the sun with the crows chirping above us and the slight breeze rustling the leaves on the tree.

It’s peaceful.

It’s home.

I hear him coming up next to me, his steps too loud to be anyone else’s. My men walk softer—a warrior’s step.

“For so long, all I could do was survive one day to the next. The next second, the next hour, the next week. Always fighting, always on the move, always trying to forget. But never really living.” I look up at him then, our past stretched out between us on the ground.

His eyes are still glassy with tears, his lips turned down.

He looks tanned, probably from living out here.

Piper told me he was at The Forgotten with the others.

But he’s skinnier, and though his arms seem to have more muscle, the result of living above ground is already taking effect.

His clothes are old ratty jeans and a tank top, a strange look for him.

He’s nothing but a stranger, someone I once knew.

I’ve said my peace to him over and over again, so he just needs to accept it and move on the way I did.

Sometimes, family are the ones you choose, not the ones you are born with.

I’ve chosen my family, and it doesn’t include him.

“I’m ready to start living again.” I cut my eyes to my men before looking back to him. “But you’re not included in that life. Say your goodbyes to your son, you will always be welcome here, but you aren’t welcome in my life or family ever again.”

I stand and pass by him. His hand goes out as if to stop me, and I narrow my eyes on him, daring him to try and grab me. Touch me. He drops it with an audible swallow. “I just wanted to pay my respects and to see if you were okay. I heard what happened.”

“Why? Why do you care?” I sigh tiredly, sick of this same circle with us. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m tired of wasting my breath on you when you clearly don’t listen. Pay your respects.” I head over to my men, and their arms wrap around me, solidly, comfortingly.

They knew the cost of today, not just on my heart, but on my soul.

Under the sun-soaked sky, they hold me as I let those final pieces of my past and pain float away on the breeze.

I am reborn.

Queen of The Wastes.

We drink that night. We sit up in what used to be the VIP area for the fights above the empty pit.

Around the table are my men and the other leaders, including Piper and her men.

I smile as I sit back and look at them all around me.

Laughing, joking, and teasing. Telling stories of the war, of previous fights.

I wonder if this is how Major felt with me around… Whole?

Looking across the barrier, I nod at those who raise their drinks to me, my eyes catching on my father sitting alone before I drag them away to focus on the pit below. That is where it all started, after all.

That first night, I was fighting for my life, I just never thought it would be this life. If I had, I might have fought harder through all the years to get here faster. To feel so full and loved. Dray leans into me now.

“Remembering the good times?” he murmurs.

Laughing, I look back into those cold eyes, recalling all the times we have shared here, especially when he came down below after the fights…

Or the time I came back here, came back home, and he was here waiting like he had been for years, a knowing gleam in his eyes that I would find my way back to The Ring… back to him.

Grabbing a knife, I press it to his junk with a wink, making him chuckle. “Your knives make me hard,” he teases, repeating those same words he said to me the night our eyes met across the room.

“I know… Tell me, Seeker King, feel like a fight?” His eyes light up, burning with sudden desire for my blood and body. I know he has been struggling since I almost died, and he’s trying to be here for me. But Dray is a brutal feral warrior, and he needs this.

I need this.

To relive that night, but to do it right this time. I tell him as much. “No winnings, no losses. Just us. Fighting…fucking.” I press my knife in harder. “The way it should have been that night.”

“Soulmate,” he murmurs, obviously remembering my injury.

But I’ve fought with worse, and I need this as much as him.

Tomorrow, I need to be a queen and make hard decisions.

It’s going to be a long, hard road to achieve what I have in mind.

Tonight, I just want to be Worth, the Champion. His soulmate. His wife.

To feel our bodies pushed to their limits, the crowd roaring for us, cheering and stamping, watching our blood decorating the sands. He won’t hold back, I know that, and I love him for it. To win against him, I have to earn it.

I want to earn it.

Here and now.

“I challenge you, Dray… Do you accept?”

The table goes quiet, and all eyes are on us now.

“Dayummm, what? I don’t know what that means, but it felt right,” Piper murmurs, making my lips quirk as I hear Archel lean in to explain. I keep my eyes on those cold ones I love so much.

“Always, Champion. Ready to get your ass kicked?” I smirk as I stand, ridding myself of my swords, leaving me with only the knife I pressed to his junk—Major’s knife.

He stands with a chuckle, strips off his cross-chest harness, and hands it to Jax. I suck in a breath as gratitude and happiness fills me. It’s a big deal to trust a warrior with your weapons… He’s showing he trusts them, considers them friends and family.

I’ve never loved him so fucking much as I do right now, especially when my silent demon stares down at them in shock and pride. He strips off his sword and hands it to Drax, who clutches it with a wide happy smile, his eyes almost misty. My joker is grateful for his trust.

He hands the whip he carries to Maxen, and lastly, he passes a knife from his leg to Thorn, leaving him with just one knife like me. I look over my men to see them humbled by his trust. Dray trusts hardly no one, he loves even less.

To know he loves this family, that he’s accepting our future together…it fills me with determination to make a better future for us.

I step back, and he follows, prowling after me, hunting me.

Laughing, I turn and leap over the barrier, landing on my feet, and then I’m moving towards the sand.

Heads turn and questions fill the air. I ignore them all as I leap over the stone into the pit and then turn, watching him come.

He moves like water, fluid and so powerful.

He winds through the tables towards me, his eyes intent on getting his prize.

Me.

When he effortlessly throws himself over the barrier, and in the same stride stabs out with his knife, I laugh. Ducking, I cut along his leg before dancing away. We are usually evenly matched, he has brute strength, but he’s also smart and fast.

I’m faster, smart, and agile, but I’m injured. I don’t know who will win, either way, he’s still my prize. Sometimes, it’s not about winning, it’s about getting back up to fight another day.

He groans as blood forms on his leg. His trousers have a thin, long hole in them now. He presses his fingers to the wound and then lifts them up to show the blood on his fingertips.

Fuck me.

The crowd goes wild, surging around the arena, shouting encouragements. The king versus the queen. I hear them take bets, I hear my name chanted and called. It’s like being back all those years ago when no one knew who I was, when no one rooted for me. But now they do, because they know…

I’m a fucking champion.

“You’re getting slow, Seeker,” I taunt.

He laughs as he circles me, his knife held inwards, his other hand out and ready. “Oh, really? Maybe I’m just giving you a chance to win, Champion, but if you want fast—” He rushes me then, and there is no more time for talking.

I duck and parry, moving backwards across the sand to avoid his lethal, feral attacks. Even as I do, I feel my panties dampen at the brute strength and force, at the fucking beauty of my husband.

He manages to cut my cheek as I turn my head to avoid losing an eye.

Snarling, I duck low and sweep my leg, but he jumps over it and kicks me back to the sand.

I tumble backward, rolling over and leaping to my feet to see him coming at me again.

Turning, I race to the low wall, and pushing myself to my limit, I sprint up it and flip over him as he ducks low to stab at my legs.

I quickly leap onto his back and wrap my arm around his throat and press the knife there. “Yield,” I yell.