carried across 57

 

57 You Lost The Right 

Sera 1 

My knuckles ached with a dull, heavy pulse. I looked down at my hands. The skin across my knuckles was completely split. Thick, dark blood coated my fingers, dripping slowly onto the packed dirt. It wasn’t my blood. 

I stepped off Taya. My boots squelched in the mud we had created from frost and sweat. 

The silence in the yard broke. It didn’t break with cheers. It broke with the frantic, heavy footsteps of the pack healers rushing past me. Three men and an older woman sprinted into the ring. They carried leather bags and rolls of clean linen. They dropped to their knees beside Taya’s limp body. 

Kael was already there. He pushed one of the healers aside aggressively. He grabbed his daughter’s face. He was shouting something, his voice cracking with panic, but the high-pitched ringing in my ears muffled the words. 

I turned away from them. I started walking toward the edge of the ring. 

Every single step took massive effort. The forced healing had drained the marrow entirely from my bones. My left thigh burned with a deep, tearing pain where Taya had kicked it. My jaw throbbed in time with my heartbeat. But I kept my back straight. I forced my knee to lock. I did not limp. 

The crowd parted for me. The Ironmaw warriors stepped back, creating a wide path. They didn’t cheer, but they lowered their heads slightly as I passed. They didn’t look at me with the mocking amusement they had a week ago. It was a subtle, distinct shift. It was respect. 

I reached the edge of the yard. 

My mother was still standing between the two Ironmaw guards. She was no longer crying. Her face was the color of old, dry parchment. She stared at me as I approached. Her eyes were completely wide. She looked at my blood-soaked tunic, my raw, dripping hands, and the heavy smear of red across my chin 

and neck. 1 

I stopped three feet away from her. 

“I’m alive,” I said. My voice was a harsh, dry rasp. My throat tasted like copper. 

She didn’t look at my eyes. She looked right past my shoulder. She stared directly at the center of the ring where the healers were working frantically over Taya’s ruined face. 

“She isn’t moving,” my mother whispered. Her whole body shook violently. The heavy silk of her dress 

vibrated with her tremors. 

I didn’t turn around to check. I already knew what Taya looked like. I had put her in that state. 

My mother slowly brought her gaze back to me. Her chest heaved. The sheer horror in her expression was absolute. She looked at me like I was a rabid, feral dog that had just wandered into her pristine sitting room. 

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“You killed her,” she said. It wasn’t a question. It was a horrified accusation. 

+25 Bonus 

“She is breathing,” I said flatly. “The healers will fix her. Her arm will just heal crooked.” 

My mother took a physical step back. She bumped into the chest of the Ironmaw guard standing behind her. She didn’t even notice the man. She kept staring at my bloody hands. 

“What is wrong with you?” she asked. Her voice cracked, rising in pitch. “Look at yourself. Look at what you just did to that girl.” 

“I won,” I said. 

“You butchered her,” my mother spat. The shock was rapidly wearing off, replaced by a sudden, frantic anger. “You smashed her face into the dirt over and over again. She yielded. I heard her. She tried to yield, Sera, and you just kept hitting her.” 

“She didn’t finish the word.” 

“You are becoming a monster.” 1 

The word hit the cold, freezing air between us. It didn’t hurt. It just sat there, heavy and useless. 

“I…” I stopped. 

Calling me a monster was doing too much. 

“If I hadn’t fought back, she would have killed me.” 

My mother shook her head frantically. The elaborate, expensive pins in her blonde hair were coming loose, dropping into the mud. “You are a Valdris Princess. Do you hear me? You are a princess of the South. I do not care that you are mated to the Alpha of Ironmaw. You are supposed to preserve yourself. You are not supposed to act like the mindless savages that live in this frozen wasteland.” 

I stared at her. I felt the dry, cracking blood on my face tighten my skin. 

“Savages,” I repeated. 

“Yes!” she hissed. She leaned forward slightly, though she kept a safe distance from my bloody clothes. Look at them. Look at him.” She pointed a shaking finger toward Fenris, who stood thirty yards away. “He let you do this. He watched you beat a girl to death for pure entertainment. You are adopting their ways. You are turning into a violent, feral animal.” 

I took a slow, deep breath. The freezing air stung my lungs. 

“You lost the right to tell me how to act,” I said. My voice dropped in volume, but the tone was hard and 

absolute. 1 

My mother blinked. “What did you say?” 

*** 

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