Page 105 of Faeling
It took one kick to send Grogar to the ground. Planting his boot on the orc’s chest, Vallek leveled his blade on Grogar’s throat.
The paladin stared up at him in utter shock, breath coming in stuttering pants.
Vallek stood above the whelp for a good long moment, letting him really think about his choice, before finallytsking.
“Mercy,” he sighed. “And be grateful for it.”
Stepping back, he allowed Grogar’s friends to help him up. They hustled him away, back into the safety of the crowd.
With the toe of his boot, Vallek flipped the other axe toward the group of waiting challengers—interestingly smaller already. “Next.”
One after another, they met the same fate. Flat on their backs, Hormhím pressed to their throat or gut. Some gave him a more spirited challenge than others, particularly the Iron-Chest warrior. Their duel truly got Vallek’s blood burning, and theydanced across the basilica for the better part of ten minutes, exchanging furious blows. It was the eastern tribesman who managed to nick Vallek’s cheek, sending blood dribbling down his neck to wet his collar.
Vallek merely grinned ferociously, his beast thrilling at the challenge. He relished the burn in his muscles and the look of awe in every orc.
By the time it came to the last challenger, whose only hope was that Vallek would be tired enough to finally defeat, it was clear to everyone else that it was Vallek Far-Sight who would win.
Hewas victor today.
Hewas king.
In the end, he spared seven lives, the others rescinding their challenge and melting back into the crowd.
“Mercy,” Vallek said for the final time.
The orc scrambled to his feet, hurrying back into the crowd.
Alone in the cleared space, Vallek turned round in a circle twice. “Are there any others? Or is this matter settled?”
The gathered orc-kin rumbled and murmured, but Vallek had no fear. All orcs respected the challenge and its outcome. If he was wrong, if the gods disagreed with him, then it was he who’d be laid flat on his back.
Turning, he strode across the basilica, ascending the dais again. Ravenna watched him come, her lips twitching with a relieved grin.
He grinned cockily back, his blood still hot, and it was only because of the thousand pairs of eyes on them that he didn’t take her on his throne right that moment. Flushed with victory, heady with triumph, Vallek knelt down onto one knee before hisfaeling.
Her touch feather-light, Ravenna clasped the torque round his neck. The weight of the gold settled on him, a mark that he was claimed.
His beast sat back, pleased. Her claim was there for all to see. Indisputable.
Her cool hand touched his face, and he felt the gentle swipe of her thumb over his cut. Her magic tingled along his cheek, and his breath hissed between his tusks to feel the pinch of his skin closing shut again.
The crowd surged forward toward the dais, trying to get a closer look at how the king was healed. Sounds of wonder echoed through the basilica, followed by a few cheers when, after lifting his chin with a finger, Ravenna bent to kiss him.
“Stay here,” she whispered against his lips.
His good mood faltered.What?
Turning to face the court, Ravenna announced, “I know this is a shock to many of you. If your objection is with me, then I will earn the right to be your queen. Who would challenge me?”
She truly had surprised them. Astonishment rendered theusually boisterous orcs silent again, many of them blinking back at her offer with bemusement.
Ravenna stood firm. If the chieftain, the king, could be challenged, then let her be, too.
She would be queen not just because Vallek said so, but because she won it.
Perhaps she was overconfident, even mad. Perhaps she was feeling a little bloodthirsty after watching her mate’s magnificent display of physical prowess. Perhaps her fae instinct was desperate not just to claim him with a bit of gold but to defeat any foolish enough to think he belonged to anyone but her. Perhaps she was tired of living in the shadow of others.
Perhaps it was a bit of everything.
