Lillian

The centre of the makeshift arena I was in was surrounded by jeering rogues and a few members of my pack, mostly my father's minions. 

The arena was nothing more than a circle of dirt, surrounded by wooden stakes driven into the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and the primal excitement of the crowd.

My father himself was right outside, watching me like a hawk, his cold gaze sending a chill down my spine. He had demanded my participation in this sparring duel of the rogues. He had clearly stated that I proved myself or die…

Across from me, stood my opponent,...