She Who Would Be King by Kim Pritekel

Author:Kim Pritekel [Pritekel, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0BNLYWYWL
Publisher: Sapphire Books Publishing
Published: 2023-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

Just as she’d ordered, her men were standing at attention in the training field lit by the moonlight above. They stood in two perfect rows facing each other, an aisle between them for the ultimate and, most often final, walk of shame.

Eoin led their prisoner to the front of the line. Fallon walked down the aisle, explaining as she went. “You will each have one shot at him. You may use fists, pommel of your sword, end of your spear, foot, whatever. You may not use anything that will kill him. You may not cut him, stab him, spear him, stomp him, or otherwise deliver a fatal blow.” She reached the end of the aisle. “That is,” she added, no pleasure in her statement. “Not before everyone gets a chance.”

She reached the end of the line and turned to look back up the way she’d just come, the prisoner standing at the other side. He looked terrified, and she was glad of it. Eoin was removing his shackles as she finished her speech.

“If you survive, prisoner,” she said, refusing to use his name as he was dead to her Elite Guard now. “You will be banished from our shores.” She looked at all the men who still stood at attention, even as she could feel their anger building, readiness to attack. “Begin!”

Eoin shoved the prisoner into the gauntlet. Fallon watched as each man took their blow, most using fists, sending him from one man to the other just with the sheer viciousness of their hits and kicks. Often he stumbled, landing on his behind or all fours. The next man in line would yank him up by his tunic, his arm, or even his hair, only to send him flying again.

Fallon watched, part of her nauseous at such violence, so senseless, so unnecessary. Shouldn’t she just have thrown him into the dungeon and let him rot there with the rats? Every time she engaged in violence, on the battlefield or like this, she felt a little bit of her humanity wilt away.

But then, she saw Livia’s face, that beautiful, precious face. So young, so innocent, so deeply hurt by life already. Orphaned as a young girl and bounced from home to home until she’d ended up at the monastery where the monks had taken pity on her. That young woman had never had a break in her life, never had anyone to love her, to protect her, to give her a bed that wasn’t borrowed or stolen.

Then there was Cateline. Fallon’s cheek burned from that brief kiss, the softness, the closeness. She heard those whispered words again, Avenge her. She saw the prisoner headed her way, yet again knocked to the ground. He was bloody, and he spit out a mouthful of blood and it looked like some teeth. Stringy hair, likely from sweat and blood, hung down.

He was tugged up to his feet again where he fell against the closest man to him, punched, then sent whirling down to the ground yet again.

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