Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 40168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 161(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
The crowd was gathered in seats all around them, raised high so they were looking down. There was a large electronic screen in the center of the two rows, and a group of Rogues dressed in jewels and strange clothing were on the screen watching.
Those must be the Royals.
Tolcan had wanted her to stay at the pod, demanded it even, but she’d told him Jayce was her family. She was also Tolcan’s mate, and she wanted to be there for both of them, to see this through. Now she stood amongst other Rogues and their slaves, and having to wear a collared shirt so her marking wasn’t shown. She was worried about that, and feared what would happen if it was seen.
She glanced away from Tolcan and Jayce, and looked at the Rogue men and women standing just feet from her. Tolcan had told her to wear the standard concubine attire, which was a collared shirt and a long skirt. She was covered from neck to ankle, but the attire signified she was less than the Rogues, higher than the breeding stock, but still not worthy.
She hated it, hated what it signified, but she also knew the safety aspect of having it on if she really wanted to come out here. She wanted to stay alive, didn’t want to cause trouble, and didn’t want Tolcan to get in trouble because of what they’d both done.
The looks she got from the Rogues were disgust, hatred, and downright venom. But she knew she wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms, not even if she was a “concubine” for a Rogue.
She looked around the crowd again, trying to see any other humans that had been with her when she’d been in the cave. But aside from Jayce she didn’t see anyone familiar. The humans that were chained to their so-called masters looked sad, weak, and like they wanted to just end everything.
Greta couldn’t fault them for feeling like things were over, because they were, in a sense. That was why the humans were fighting so hard to not let the Rogues continue to rule them, and that was why Greta wanted things to change. She saw that change in Tolcan as well, knew that he was seeing things differently. Although she didn’t know how this all came about, or how her emotions for him had changed so dramatically and drastically in such a short time, she had needed to rely on her gut to survive.
That’s what she was doing now; that’s what she had to do.
21
Tolcan was prepared, had been prepared since he knew what he wanted out of his life. He looked at Greta, saw her standing amongst the human slaves and their Rogue owners, and he felt his rage grow. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want her seeing this, or being put in danger, but she was stubborn, strong in her own right, and he knew she had to make sure things went as planned.
Although fighting Redon would have been easy, too easy in fact, with the Rogues adopting the new laws where a Dukka didn’t have to be fought by the challenger and the challenged, it made for a very interesting fight.
Tolcan stared at Wayward, a male he knew well, and one that he’d fought beside in war many times.
This fight was until the death or unless someone surrendered. Tolcan had never surrendered. He knew Wayward had never surrendered either, and so it looked like this would be a bloody fight.
There were no preamble announcements. There was just a raise of one of the Royals’ hands, and the Dukka commenced. Tolcan swung his sword with a mighty roar, barely missing Wayward. The other Rogue was prepared though, was a skilled fighter, and it didn’t take long before they were sparring with each other.
They clanged their swords together, dodged the hits, and soon the sweat and dirt covered their bodies. They had advancements in weaponry, but for a Dukka, swords, arrows, even daggers and axes were the only things allowed.
The crowd was silent, as was normal for a Dukka, as the onlookers watched, waiting to see who would come out victorious. It was about concentration and focus. This was about the fighters, about who would win and who would have shame on them. Tolcan swung out again, his blade slicing into Wayward’s chest. The other Rogue grinned, but there was no amusement in it. He lifted his hand and ran a finger over the cut, smearing the blood.
Wayward came forward, swung his sword out, and barely missed taking off Tolcan’s arm. They went at it again for another ten minutes, both men bleeding from various cuts on their body, sweat covering them, dirt moving around them, and the only sound was of their heavy breathing and metal clanging against each other.
“All of this for a slave?” Wayward said in a voice low enough only Tolcan could hear. He didn’t bother responding, just swung out and cut Wayward in the stomach. The male roared out, came after Tolcan, and the two fell to the ground.