Page 74 of Princess Avenged

“Sure, why not.” Flame grins.

Axe shifts. “We’re running low. Two birds…” He shrugs.“Okay then.” Ryker rubs his hands together. “Let the games begin.” He looks toward Phil. “You and the demon in?”

Phil

“Go, Crusher, go!” Flame cheers as Crusher repeatedly swings the heavy axe. He’s the last of we five to compete in this wood chopping contest.

Over and over, Crusher sets up a log on a massive stump and brings his axe down, splintering it into smaller pieces. Ryker’s watching the time on what looks like a nineteenth century pocket watch. Hardly accurate.

I’ve already had my go, and my competitive side kicked in. I’m in second at this point, behind Axe.

I won the swimming challenge, came third in the three scaling, and likely would have won the wrestling match, but decided to disqualify myself from that round, because the demon seemed way too excited about being that close to any one of these men.

Would he have urged me to kill? I can’t see what good that would do for the demon.

Then, I realize it would give him—me—another dead soul to impersonate. Fuck. The witches better have some damn answers.

If Ember and Ana don’t come back with answers, I’ll need to leave her, once and for all. I’ll go far away. Go somewhere I won’t be able to sense her or track her. I’ll live underground. Find an oubliette. Seal myself in. Because this morning proved I cannot trust myself around her.

It might take hundreds of years, but eventually the demon will give up and leave me alone. Tightening my grip on a piece of split wood from the pile, I press my fists against my temples. For a century, this fucker stayed in Rasputin’s head, waiting for Ana to resurface. Who the fuck knows how many centuries I’ll have to stay away from her.

“Ten seconds left!” Ryker calls out. “You’re seventeen logs behind Axe!”

Crusher swings the blade so quickly, I barely see it move. Splinters scatter in clouds around the stump while he rapidly chops.

“Time!” Ryker yells. Crusher stops mid swing, and then brings the blade down to lodge in the stump.

“That was close,” Ryker says, eying Crusher’s result and comparing it to Axe’s. “Shall I be referee?”

“What the fuck is that?” Axe yells, and the ground vibrates as the big hairy man moves toward me.

I bring my arms down to my side. “What is what?”

“That!” Trembling with rage, Axe points to my side.

I look down to see that, while I’ve been sitting here holding this piece of wood, I’ve been rubbing it against the granite, sharping its end into a point.

In a flash, Ryker grabs the axe from the stump and moves up beside the bear man.

“Try to use that,” he says menacingly, “and I’ll chop off your fucking head!”

“Hey, hey.” Crusher steps up beside them, and Flame does too.

“This tournament doesn’t have a beheading event,” Flame says. “Does it?”

I laugh.

“There’s nothing funny about you making a stake.” A low growl rumbles out of Axe’s chest.

I have definitely poked the bear. Poked the pirate too. They’re out for blood. Or rather, they’re worried that I am.

“Drop the stake, Phil,” Crusher says.

I turn toward him, shocked at the fear I see in his eyes. Also shocked that I not only made a stake but am still holding it.

“Drop it,” Flame adds. “Come on. I’ll toss it into the fire.”

It takes a shockingly great effort to release my grip, as if my joints are full of cement. But my fingers eventually unfurl, and the stake clatters over the granite I’m perched on, landing softly on the pine-needle cushioned ground.

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