Tent Temptations

As Riona stomped away from Thorin. Her irritation boiled over as she muttered to herself, "Not in this lifetime, not in any lifetime."

What was wrong with him? Had he finally lost his marbles?

Riona bolted because his words were beyond suspicious. She'd rather skip her meals—and that was saying something—than stick around to hear more of his nonsense. It was almost like he was gearing up to propose or something equally ludicrous.

The thought made her laugh out loud, remembering the servants' whispers about Thorin's grand purpose for showing up here.

An alliance, they said. There were many forms of alliances, and marriage was apparently on the table.

How original.

But seriously, didn't werewolves only bond with their fated mates? And wasn't she, um, just a tad removed from the royal lineage?

If Thorin was on the hunt for his destined mate, shouldn't he be cozying up to Lisbeth? After all, she was the actual princess of the Kingdom of Eira. Tying the knot with Lisbeth would be a power move.

But no, here he was, barking up the wrong tree.

Seething, Riona stormed back to the arena, rubbing her growling stomach and cursing that infuriating werewolf for ruining her lunch plans. She made a mental note to avoid him like the plague.

As long as she stayed nestled within the servant circle, their paths wouldn't cross. Unless, of course, King Valentin had a sudden personality change and decided to put Riona on display with the other servants for dinner, like he had last time.

Thorin had been eyeing Riona like a prime rib, and if King Valentin picked up on that, he'd make sure Mr. Alpha Werewolf didn't get within sniffing distance of her.

Obviously, for the good of the kingdom and to maintain the king's reputation, if that handsome werewolf were to marry someone, it must be the princess, not the fangless outcast.

And when the king got involved, even Thorin would have to tuck his tail between his legs and back off.

"What are you doing here? The audience bench is over there. This is the arena for participants of the Trial," one of the knights said, approaching Riona with the same condescension one might use for a rebellious child.

Riona smirked, hiding her annoyance at his blatant prejudice. Did it not occur to him that she might actually be one of the participants? Plenty of women were competing, but apparently, she just didn't fit his knightly vision of strength.

"Oh, I didn't know that. Thanks for the heads-up," she replied sweetly. Then, ignoring his directions, she headed straight for the arena gate.

But instead of going toward the direction of the audience bench, Riona went ahead to the gate to the arena.

"Hey, I told you–" The knight grabbed her shoulder, clearly not used to being ignored.

Riona whirled around and glared at him. "Which number is it now? I'm number four."

Startled, the knight fumbled through his list of participants, his eyes darting between Riona and the paper. "Are you… Riona Kahler?"

"Yes. So, which numbers are fighting now?" she replied.

"Um, uh…" The knight stammered, flustered by his own ineptitude as he panickedly searched for the answer.

"Is something wrong?"

A tall, dark-skinned man appeared from behind that knight. He sported super short hair, and even though he was fully clothed, the line of his muscles was still visible.

"Oh, Sir Kai." The knight's cheeks flashed red in embarrassment. "It's, uh…"

Ho! So this is the famous Kai? The only Nightwatch who beat everyone in the duel and came out at the top?

"Sir Kai, nice to meet you. Maybe you can help Sir Flustered here find his manners while he's at it," she said, flashing a sweet but sarcastic smile.

Kai glanced at the knight, who was now resembling a beetroot. He looked her over, then at the knight. "Riona Kahler, you say? Seems like you owe this participant an apology."

The knight's face somehow turned even redder. "I, uh, yes. Sorry about that, Ms. Kahler. The current fight is number eight. He's challenging the defender, number ten."

"There's still some time until your turn. Would you like to visit the Nightwarden tent? We have food and drinks to help replenish your energy," Kai offered politely.

"But that's for the Nightwatch only!" the knight protested.

Kai maintained his calm demeanor as he responded, "We don't typically allow contenders into the tent, and the rules are quite strict. However, I'm making an exception in this case. Consider it a gesture of apology for the inconvenience you've experienced during the Trial."

Riona would never say no to anything that would fill her stomach. She complied and followed Kai like a duckling following its mother, not caring where he was leading her as long as there was food involved.

She was astonished at the spread in the tent. Even though it wasn't as luxurious as the noble tent, Riona shoved whatever she could into her mouth with enthusiasm.

By the time it was her turn, she was already full and practically vibrating with renewed energy. It was time to kick some fangs!

Number 10 had managed to beat everyone up to Riona's number, which was mildly impressive—though not exactly earth-shattering like Kai's legendary dueling streak. Six people in between was a decent run, sure, but let's not break out the confetti just yet.

Burning with passion and a touch of dramatic flair, Riona charged into the arena. She attacked first, brandishing her red arrow, her movements oozing with haughtiness.

After a while, number 10 still hadn't made a move, content with just defending himself. It was clear he was studying her movements and attack patterns, like a chess player. But no matter—Riona was determined to knock him out.

Then he finally made a move, and it was shocking. He was so fast that Riona couldn't even see him. Oh, right! This guy ranked first in the speed test. That must be how he mowed through the six challengers before her.

She tried to defend herself from his lightning-fast attack, but he got her. The hit wasn't severe, and she managed to maintain her posture, but defense was definitely not her style.

As she got up from the ground, wiping the blood from the edge of her lips, she spotted Thorin in the distance. He was smirking behind his long fingers, looking like a smug villain. And not far from him, she saw someone familiar.

Florian. What was he doing there? By his side was Lisbeth, her hand resting on Florian's shoulder as she grinned ear to ear, like a huntress who'd just trapped her prey.

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