Page 107 of A Darkness So Sweet

Ragnar darted to the side, twisting so the new troll couldn’t grab onto him, and then hooked a hand around the troll’s horn. Holding onto it, he forced the troll to spin around and look at him.

“Bjorn?” he asked, his voice low with terror at what he had found.

Because it was Bjorn. It was his oldest friend, the young man he had fought and trained with. The same person he had looked up to, the one who had helped him learn how to use his magic by breaking his own arm, was here.

But this wasn’t the Bjorn he knew. This troll in front of him had lost his mind. Drool dripped from his tusks. His eyes were wide with rage and blinded by all that stood in front of him. He didn’t even react to his own name.

“Bjorn!” Ragnar shouted, then threw him by the horns into the wall. “Don’t you see who’s in front of you? It’s Ragnar, damn it!”

The troll lunged at him again, grappling with him the moment their arms locked. And damn, he was strong. Much stronger than anyone Ragnar had ever fought, but he supposed that made sense.

Bjorn had been fighting a lot longer than he had.

Ragnar wrestled with him, fighting to get the other man in a headlock so he would at least look at him. With a quick twist of his body, he used his old move, hooking his knee behind Bjorn’s and bringing his friend to the ground. In the old days, Bjorn would have laughed and heaved him off of him, but this version of his friend did not.

With another twist of his body, Ragnar planted himself on top of Bjorn, pinning his friend to the ground. But he just remained there, frozen, staring down into Bjorn’s face, which almost seemed... accepting. Like Bjorn wanted to die.

“It’s me,” Ragnar tried again. “It’s me, brother.”

And for the barest moment, his friend was back. Bjorn seemed to recognize him. The fog of rage cleared, and it was like looking at his old friend once more.

“Ragnar?” he asked.

“Listen to me. My troll wife is here. She’s one of the prizes for the fight today. I need to get out of here with her, and I need your help to do it.”

“You can’t get out.”

“I can, Bjorn. I can and I will.” Ragnar wasn’t sure how yet, but he would. “Will you help me?”

Bjorn shook his head, once, twice, and then seemed to relent. “If she’s given to me, I’ll keep her alive. That’s the best I can do.”

“It’s all I can ask.”

Ragnar got off of him, helping his friend to his feet. They stared at each other for a long moment before taking off in opposite directions. They both knew they had the same enemy to fight. Unfortunately, there was no way to win that battle together.

ChapterForty-Three

MAIA

Maia watched the blood bath before her with hatred burning in her chest. There was a time in her life when she would have been just like Rose standing next to her—shaking like a leaf, willing to do whatever it took to be given to the kindest person here.

But she wasn’t that woman any longer. She was going to fight until there was no more breath in her lungs. She would battle with any person who tried to touch her, troll or not. Just as Ragnar fought for her down there. She watched him as he killed countless people with a fury unmatched.

So Maia stood, and she watched. She marked every single injury that happened to her people, and she kept faces in her memory. Every person in those stands would die by her hand or her order. Every single noble who thought it was fine to put anyone in a situation like this where they had to fight to stay alive. Human or troll. Both were so incredibly wrong.

She committed to memory the faces of the women standing beside her. Each one of them was weary. They had likely been here a long time. Each one of them deserved more than to live like this, wondering when they would finally die.

At first, she thought the king would look at her. Perhaps he would goad her, saying that this was what she got for returning. But he didn’t. She was so beneath him that he never even looked at her. He just drank his wine, spilling it all over the floor as he gestured at the deaths that were taking place in the labyrinth he had built.

Maia wanted him dead. She wanted him writhing underneath her foot as she ground her heel against his throat. And then she wanted Ragnar at her side, to watch her mate kill him in the most gruesome way a talented troll like him could think of.

She wasn’t sure how long the whole process took. Only that she stood there until her legs were aching and turning purple. But she endured. Watching every single death so that she would never forget this moment.

Until the guards moved up behind them. Then she looked over at the king, who stood and raised his hands. He shouted, although she wasn’t sure how anyone could hear him over the crowd’s cries for death.

“And that concludes the fight of the labyrinth! Those who are alive, I will gift you a prize for the evening!”

He gestured to the line of women, and Maia could only hope that she would be given to Ragnar. She’d seen him down there. She was going to get to him. No one could stop her.

---