Chapter 94

For three days leading up to my duel with Fenris, I made it a point to avoid the Palace maids and servants. The last thing I needed was to stumble into another situation that could escalate into a confrontation. Trouble seemed magnetized to me lately, and I had no desire to fight anyone unnecessarily.

The most ridiculous aspect of "avoiding trouble," however, was eating. It seemed the Palace servants had decided to starve me out, as my meals abruptly stopped arriving the moment I rudely rejected my foul breakfast. I could almost guarantee this was Selene’s handiwork. She grew bolder in Hadrian’s absence, flexing her influence wherever she could. Still, going hungry was preferable to risking a poisoned meal. Unfortunately, the kitchen was in the main building, which I had no access to, further complicating the situation.

With the King away and the Queen openly despising me, no one could intervene—not even Gareth. But Gareth and Icarus found a solution. I began eating with the Royal Army. It was the safest option; no one dared tamper with the soldiers' meals.

Gareth was on the cusp of being appointed the main general once Hadrian assumed leadership of the army. While it wasn’t official yet, he had quickly earned the soldiers' respect. They already treated him as their commander, bowing as he passed and offering him a seat at the head table in the canteen. I sat there with him and Icarus, watching in quiet amazement as the soldiers acknowledged him with such reverence. My curiosity eventually got the better of me.

“What did you do to win them over so fast?” I asked as Gareth cut into his dinner.

He chuckled, not even pausing his movements. “It wasn’t hard. I told the ten strongest warriors to step forward, and I defeated them all.”

Of course. I should have known it all came down to strength.

This world had a brutal simplicity: the weak commanded no respect, while the strong could ascend to unimaginable heights. It might seem cruel, but compared to the arbitrary cruelty of the human world, it made a certain kind of sense. Selene, however, was an exception. Her power came not from strength but from privilege and cunning. She wielded her wealth and alliances like a weapon, adhering to human-like rules to secure her position. Ironically, as a human, I had to rely on vampire rules to rise above the bottom rung of the social ladder.

By the second day of eating at the military canteen, I learned to block out the hostile stares. The soldiers knew Gareth was training me for my fight with Fenris, but no one believed I could learn to fight in three days. They didn’t care about the sessions, but my mere presence at their table seemed to be a source of irritation.

The glares, however, were not the worst of it. What truly grated on me were the voices. The cursing and snide comments were manageable; I had heard worse during my time working at the bank. But the more obscene remarks were harder to ignore. Vile suggestions, dripping with malice, reached my ears—threats and fantasies too grotesque to repeat. To them, I wasn’t just an enemy. I was a woman, and that seemed to strip away any remaining boundaries. Not even my status as the King’s consort shielded me from their venom.

Gareth had no official authority to discipline them, and his advice was blunt: “Focus on eating. Save your strength for training.”

Icarus, on the other hand, was less composed. Every lewd remark tightened his fists, his anger simmering just below the surface. One particularly vile comment—something about using my lifeless body for their amusement—nearly pushed him over the edge. I grabbed his hand and forced myself to smile, desperate to reassure him I was fine. But I wasn’t. Their words cut deeper than I wanted to admit, and with my duel looming, their hostility only heightened my anxiety.

“Don’t let your sex become your weakness,” Gareth said sharply, noticing my unease. “You can’t let them get in your head.”

I nodded, biting down the lump in my throat. Beneath Gareth’s gruff demeanor, I knew he cared. His comments during training were often harsh, but they carried an undertone of genuine concern. At times, he even reminded me of Oberon. Whether it was a sense of duty in Hadrian’s absence or something more personal, he was invested in my survival.

“This is our last training session,” Gareth announced as we entered the gym. “It’s going to be the hardest one yet.”

I didn’t argue. At this point, I was willing to endure anything if it meant surviving Fenris’s challenge. As I headed to the locker room to change into my Gi, Gareth stopped me, his grip firm on my wrist.

“You’ll wear this tonight,” he said, handing me a set of clothes: a short spandex top and leggings.

I stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to dress like some 1980s fitness queen?”

“These will help you move faster around Fenris,” he replied with a smirk. “And they’ll be a distraction.”

“A distraction?” I snapped, my voice rising. “He’s not trying to flirt with me, Gareth—he’s trying to kill me!”

“He’s a man, and you’re… attractive,” Gareth admitted grudgingly, suddenly averting his gaze.

“Seriously?” I sighed, exasperation dripping from my tone.

“Just do as I say,” he snapped, waving me off with a dismissive hand and all but shoving me toward the locker room to change.

To my surprise, the clothes Gareth had given me fit like a second skin. The material was light and flexible, molding to my body in a way that allowed for swift, unrestricted movement. More importantly, there was no risk of anything slipping or tearing during a fight. Still, I couldn’t ignore how the sleeveless black top, which ended just below my bra, and the snug leggings that accentuated every curve, made me look… well, undeniably attractive.

When I stepped out of the locker room, I immediately bumped into Icarus. He froze in place, his eyes widening as they swept over me from head to toe.

“Fuck.” The word escaped him before he could stop it, drawing a knowing grin to my lips.

As soon as he realized where his gaze had lingered—on certain areas, no less—he cleared his throat awkwardly and forced a sheepish smile.

“See?” Gareth said with a chuckle, watching the interaction unfold. “He’s already distracted. If your opponent even glances at your chest or ass for a second, that’s your opening. Sometimes, that’s all it takes to win.”

I refused to say it out loud, but Gareth might have been onto something with this ridiculous outfit. If it could disarm Icarus, who was usually composed, it might just work on Fenris.

Our training session began, and Gareth didn’t give me a moment’s rest. He attacked relentlessly, testing my endurance and reflexes. But over the past three days, I’d started to predict his moves, my speed improving with every bout. More and more of my strikes landed, and I could feel my body adapting, pushing past its limits. It was exhilarating, almost addictive, to discover just how much I was capable of.

“Good,” Gareth said with a rare grin after I managed to knock him to the mat. “Now we move on to the serious part of training.”

“The serious part?” I gasped, wiping sweat from my brow. “Like you haven’t been serious until now?”

He snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching into a wicked smirk. My muscles tensed as I watched him, unsure of what he was planning.

“Unlike humans, vampires always carry their weapons with them… sharp claws,” he explained, flexing his fingers. In an instant, his nails elongated into sleek, blade-like claws that gleamed under the gym lights.

I barely had time to react before he lunged at me, claws aiming straight for my throat. I jumped back, narrowly dodging his first strike, only for him to launch another—and another.

“Good… for a warm-up,” he sneered, charging at me with full force.

I managed to block one hand, but his other claw raked across my shoulder, drawing a sharp line of pain. I stumbled back, clutching the wound, only to watch it heal before my eyes.

“Impressive,” Gareth remarked, his brows raising.

“It’s more than impressive!” Icarus called out from the sidelines, his voice tinged with excitement. “You’re healing like a pure noble vampire!”

“I guess that’s just another thing changing in me,” I replied nervously, trying to suppress my growing unease.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Gareth warned sharply. “Regeneration won’t save you if you let yourself get shredded to pieces.”

He lunged again, forcing me to stay focused. At one point, I grabbed a wooden stick lying on the floor, hoping to use it as a makeshift weapon.

“Stop!” Gareth barked, freezing me in place. He approached slowly, his expression stern.

“When you’re challenged, you can only use your body as a weapon,” he explained.

“That’s insane! Fenris can fight like he’s wielding ten knives, and I can’t even use a damn stick?” I shouted, panic bubbling in my chest.

“He’s arrogant,” Gareth said, his tone steady. “He might not even use his claws. He’ll want to beat you without them, just to prove he’s stronger.”

“Master Larkspur is right,” Icarus chimed in. “I can grow my claws too. They’re sharp, but I barely use them. Most vampires see claws as unnecessary if they want to show dominance through pure strength.”

“I hope you’re right,” I muttered under my breath.

The session ended two hours before sundown. My regeneration helped me recover from the exhaustion quickly, leaving me energized for the upcoming fight. I spent the last hour meditating, forcing myself into a state of calm focus. When the time came, I walked into the packed arena, head held high, every muscle taut with determination.

My outfit earned a flurry of whispers and comments from the crowd, most of them focused on my body. To my surprise, I found their crude remarks preferable to the usual venom and death wishes. If I had to choose between lustful stares and pure hatred, the former seemed less debilitating.

Fenris entered the arena moments later, his gaze landing on me instantly. His eyes roamed over my curves, lingering just long enough to fuel my hope that Gareth’s plan might work.

“Well, this will be more fun than I thought,” Fenris said, his voice dripping with malice. A smirk tugged at his lips, his expression as predatory as the claws he extended. “I’ll still kill you, of course, but first I’ll cut off your clothes and strip you naked.”

He licked his lips, and nausea churned in my stomach.

Clenching my teeth, I muttered under my breath, “I’m as good as dead.”