Forged in Frost and Fire (Book 1 in the Chronicles of Kings trilogy)

Chapter Seventeen

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

I screamed as I slammed into the grass and was rolled onto my stomach. Multiple hands pinned me to the ground. Whoever they were, they weren't trying to be gentle.

I felt scratches form on my face as I was smashed into the ground. Something akin to a black hood was placed over my face. I was blind. I screamed through my teeth against my pursuers, bucking and thrashing like an animal. "Woah there, hold her down," I heard someone say. I recognized the voice as soon as it met my ears. Fucking Mason.

"Get the hell off of me!" I screamed, kicking my legs out. My boot hit some soft flesh, and I listened with satisfaction as someone let out a groan. I prayed it was a crotch hit. I was pretty sure it was a crotch hit because then a knee was slamming down into my spine. A scream tore past my lips and I felt tears burn my eyes.

"Did that teach you a lesson, bitch?" Mason said. He took a fistful of my hair under the hood and wrenched my head back. "You know why we're doing this, don't you?" Well it wasn't like I could have shaken my head. "Cocky bitch, you know." He dropped my hair and my chin thumped back to the ground, the end splitting open. I groaned as I felt cold blood leak into the grass.

"Lets get her up," Mason said. My eyes widened in terror and I felt my stomach drop. Up? What did up mean? I suddenly felt hands gripping my wrists and ankles. I tried to focus on how many hands there were, but I couldn't think properly.

I screamed as I was lifted into the ground. Most of my torso was in midair as my limbs were held tightly. I realized then that I didn't need to count how many men were attacking me. I already knew. If it was Mason, he was with his meatheads. So five, five men were attacking me. Fucking cowards.

They started to walk me forwards, but not towards the exit of the forest. No, I could feel it in my heart, they were walking me deeper. "You don't have to do this," I said, still fighting against them. But every kick and thrash of mine were getting slower. I was starting to get exhausted. I didn't normally fight against five fae males.

"We don't?" someone asked. I never bothered to name any of Mason's meatheads. I literally only called them "Mason's meatheads". "I thought you told us we had to because she was too good and she was going to win the obstacle course tomorrow-" There was a slap of flesh and a wince.

"Shut up," Mason said. "No more talking, for any of you."

"You don't have to listen to him," I said, a new determination started to thrum up in my veins. I could try and convince the meatheads. Surely they could tell the difference between right and wrong. Surely they knew what they were doing was cruel. "Really, he's not your dictator-" That's your king, I thought. "Let me go. I won't tell anyone-" My words were cut off as I felt a fist slam into my cheek. My head whipped to the side and I gasped as the world went fuzzy around me. I was enveloped into that pain, drowned in it. I only resurfaced when I heard something. A bubbling? No, more than that. Water. Raging water. My eyes slammed open as I realized where they had taken me.

"No!" I screamed, thrashing like a wild buck. I heard someone let out a curse and my left leg dropped to the ground. Immediately I kicked it out, catching something that felt like a stomach. I nearly laughed as I felt my boot sink into the flesh. I flicked my head back and knocked it into the man who was holding me. Hard. Pain blossomed behind my head but I hardly cared. My entire body was dropped to the ground.

I ripped the mask off of my face to see one of the meatheads running at me. I sidestepped him and sent a kick careening into his side. A hand suddenly grabbed my hair and yanked me backwards. I screamed as fire erupted over my skull. A fist connected with my stomach, over, and over, and over again. I hunched over as pain encompassed my every being. A fist slammed into my jaw and I stumbled back, my world going dark and hazy.