13. Chapter 11 Zorvan

Chapter thirteen

Chapter 11: Zorvan

I didn't even want to be here. I wanted to stay in our nice quiet room, hiding from everyone, and laughing with my friends. But of course everyone else was so desperate to act like a bunch of kids that we ended up down in this pigsty.

As the siren begins to play, Jarrah checks out, watching the band. We were all taught how to protect ourselves against psychic attacks like that, so I'm not concerned. The woman does have a lovely voice.

But then the fucker gets up and starts moving toward her.

"Jarrah," I say, trying to get his attention. When he doesn't respond, I say it louder.

He glances back, but keeps moving toward her.

"Knock it off!" I shout at the band, but they keep playing. "I said stop playing!"

"Let the lady sing, fuck wad!" some burly man with a long tangled beard yells at me.

" You knock it off!" another man yells.

I change tactics and begin pushing toward Jarrah, but a large man in a guard uniform steps in my path. "You should just pack up your fancy little friends and leave."

"Get out of my way," I instruct him.

"Or what?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Or I'll fire you, idiot. Let me get my friend and we'll go back upstairs."

"You're not so big and tough outside of your castle, little prince. You're just a little twat who probably can't even fight."

The scent of alcohol is wafting off of him, and there's a dribble of it on his chin. There's a part of me that feels for the guy, but I really just want to get out of this fucking place.

"I really don't want to fight you. I just want to get my keeper and go."

"You don't want to fight me because you know you'll lose. What's the rule? If I win, I get your throne?"

"You're challenging me for my throne?" I ask. "If you are, you have to make a formal challenge."

I shock myself with the amount of giddiness in my voice. The idea of getting to just lay someone out is so much better than just returning to our room. I haven't been in a good, real fight in a very long time. Please be challenging me.

"It's just one on one?" the guy asks, glancing at the rest of my friends.

"One on one. But you gotta let me stop that siren from singing first."

He holds his hand out in a ‘go ahead' gesture, and I run after Jarrah, just barely reaching him before he's climbing up on the stage and into the siren's arms.

"I command you to stop singing," I say to the woman, who gives me a glare, but ultimately stops.

"What gives? Fair is fair around here. I lured him, I get to feed from him."

"He is a keeper of my court, and you will do no such thing. These other men don't seem to mind when you pull that shit, but he is to be mated, and doesn't want anything to do with you. So leave him alone. Besides," I say turning to the crowd who are booing and yelling at us, "I have a fresh challenge for my throne. Who wants to see a fight?" I ask.

There are cheers from the crowd, but Aurelin shushes them. "You're not fightin' in my tavern. Take it outside so you don't break anything. Take it to the woods, preferably."

"You got it, boss," I say to him, earning a chuckle.

The guys exchange worried looks but I know they're just as pent up as I am. I've been wanting to hit something–to smash something–since Arden was taken.

With the guys in tow–along with over half the patrons of the bar, we head into the woods. One of the moons is full tonight, the other a waxing crescent. The sky is clear and the forest is bright, affording some visibility even under the leaves of the trees.

The burly guard removes his heavy armor, leaving him in the softer pieces that act as a buffer between the skin and the leather or metal. I tug my shirt over my head and toss it to Livarius. It's a nice shirt, and I don't want to rip it.

"So how does this work?" the guard asks.

The fact that he's a member of my guard and doesn't know how to present a proper challenge is a problem. One I will work with Walden to remedy once we're back. I want to know who the fuck hired the guy.

"What's your name?"

"Seedrick."

"Repeat after me, then," I tell him. "I, Seedrick…"

"I, Seedrick," he punctuates his words with a hiccup.

I absolutely should not be allowing him to do this while drunk.

"Hereby challenge you, Prince Zorvan," I pause, and wonder if I gave him too many words.

"Hereby challenge…you…Prince Zorvan," he eventually stutters out.

"For the throne of this kingdom."

"For the throne of this kingdom," he finishes.

It's simple. It's effective. And it's only really for paperwork purposes. You need at least one witness and for the challenger to utter those words in their presence, and the presence of the reigning monarch.

"Rules," I start. "No shifting–""Why not?!" he asks indignantly.

I stare at him blankly. I thought he would be relieved. "Because I shift into a fucking dragon. If you shift into anything smaller than a sphinx, I'll eat you alive."

"I don't care. Let me shift!"

"I can't change the rules!" I say. "The ‘no shifting' rule has been in place for over a millenia to level the playing field. I can't just change it now. Even if I could, I wouldn't. Each of my men shifts into something more terrifying than the last, and none of them has bested me."

"Yet," Jarrah deadpans.

"Yet," I say.

"Just change the damn rule! You're the fucking king."

"I'm the prince . And I'm not changing a rule on a whim. I don't feel like killing anyone by accident tonight, and that's exactly what'll happen if I shift. So moving along. All elemental magics are on the table. Since it would essentially be cheating, blood magic is not acceptable. Hand to hand combat is not only acceptable, but encouraged." I give him a second to process, then ask, "Are you ready?"

"Fine," he grumbles.

"Go!" Jarrah yells, dropping his arm between us.

Seedrick wastes no time, and lets out a burst of air energy that whirls up into a cyclone. It's a great move. But I'm too fast, dodging and weaving away from the spinning cloud. I'm reserving my magic as best as I can, so I sprint toward him, closing the distance.

Using a small burst of air magic, I propel myself forward, stopping short just before I slam into him. With the force behind me, I throw a punch into his gut, causing him to bend over and sputter. The wind is knocked completely from him.

With him bent over, I have the advantage. I bring my knee up to his chin and his teeth clack together before he's knocked backwards, onto his ass.

My eyes shift around the onlookers. There are far more fae here than there were at the tavern. I guess word travels fast when your incompetent ruler shows up and starts beating the shit out of people.

In the brief moment that I'm distracted by the audience, Seedrick gets the jump on me. Coming from my right, he tackles me to the ground with the full force and weight of his body. He is not a small man. With all the rage of a fed up man, he wails on my face. I don't even try to cover myself from the blows. Instead, I welcome the pain, and feed on it. My dragon attempts to take over, but I force him back down. I've got this.

In one swift maneuver, I roll us so I'm on top of him, and begin returning the favor. My blood trickles down from my nose–or maybe it's my lip–and lands on his face. A smile blooms on my face.

This is what I wanted. I needed this. I needed an excuse to physically relieve all of my frustrations. A magical battle would have been well and good, but being able to physically relieve all of these feelings? All of the pent up anger and frustration escapes in a whirlwind of blows to the face of a man who has been serving in my guard for Stars know how long.

He tries to protect himself from me, but there's nothing he can do. I will not be stopped.

With one final blow he's knocked unconscious. I won't kill him. I'll leave him alive with a wounded ego to tell the tale of how the cruel and bitter prince of Feldorn thoroughly kicked his ass; but not before he got his own punches in.

Jarrah approaches, forever my pillar, and places his hand on my shoulder. "Let's go get you healed and cleaned up."

"No. Let's leave the bruises for a few days. The pain is comforting."

"Zorvan–"

"I said we're leaving it." I turn to the crowd who are all staring, stunned. "I will gladly defend my crown from anyone who challenges me for it. I know I've been a fuck up for the last several years, but I'm learning what it means to lead. Once I'm done handling some legal matters, I'll be sending word to the villages of times where you can come and discuss your problems with me. It was a system that my father had in place, that I should have maintained.

"So spread the word. Feldorn will be making some changes. Ones that will hopefully push us in the right direction together. Somebody heal this man."

Without another word, I turn back toward the tavern and walk away. The guys hurry to keep up with me, and the second we're all back in our room, Emyth slams the door.

"What the fuck was that?"

"A challenge for the throne."

"No shit. But why would you do that? What if he had managed to get the better of you somehow. I know that it's unlikely that anyone would beat you, but what if . Challenges can be postponed for months for any number of reasons. You didn't have to accept it."

"He was never going to get the better of me, Emyth."

"Yeah, and Arden was going to be safe in Kildara, but look how well that turned out. And if he had won, it would have fucked up everything with Cyndair, and Iona. It would have put a limit to our resources that we have for finding Arden. You need to stop taking risks when it comes to our fucking mate!"

" Your mate," I correct him. "And it wasn't a risk. I had it under control."

"You're a fucking dumbass," Emyth snaps and storms out of the room.

From the looks on everyone else's faces, they all agree. Maybe it was stupid. But I needed it. And now with that out of my system, and Belridge understanding their place, I can move on to the next town, and try to make my mark there. I can start winning back the people of this kingdom so that Arden has a kingdom to rule when she returns.