Free The Steele Wolf (The Iron Butterfly) by Chanda Hahn Page A

they were fighting for something else—pride. And they were ruthless in their pursuit. They were tied two each and I prayed that Fenri would come out on top, when Bvork took a handful of dirt and threw it into Fenri’s green eyes, blinding him. Taking full advantage, Bvork swung his sword and sliced into Fenri’s leg, bringing him down to the ground. Blood spilled from the leg wound, and dirt covered his face. Fenri tried to scrabble away holding his sword while desperately trying to wipe the dirt from his eyes.
    Bvork came up from behind and grabbed Fenri’s head and smacked it into the ground with a loud thud. Blood poured from a fresh wound coating Fenri’s forehead. The onlookers Boo’d Bvork’s unsportsmanlike conduct. Without pausing, Bvork stepped on Fenri’s hand that gripped the sword and I heard a sickening crunch and a muffled scream from Fenri.
    I turned my head so I wouldn’t see, and tears started to come to my eyes unbidden. What had I done? Because of me, Fenri was injured. An ugly laugh came from Bvork and I turned back to see him kick Fenri’s sword away from his prone body. The crowd turned silent; there was no joy in winning this way. So far very little blood had been spilled today, which was rare, but none that was done with such obvious intent and hatred. Even in the heat of the games, a warrior’s battle rage took over and there were always a few in the moment casualties. But our clan was a clan of warriors and they readily accepted any loss as normal.
    I slid to my knees and stared into the arena to see if Fenri was all right. He was flat on his back. Slowly he turned his dirt and bloodstained face towards the crowd, blinked the last of the dirt from his eyes, and stared at his crushed hand.
    His eyes then followed the path of his hand past the arena to meet up with my wide tear-stained ones. It took Fenri only a few heartbeats before his eyes widened in surprise as he recognized me in my warrior disguise. Sitting up and cradling his injured hand, I could see that his face went from astonished, to anger, to a blank mask. With all of the dignity he could muster, he pulled himself off of the ground.
    Fenri walked towards me and stopped, leaning in to me to whisper angrily, “Is this what you wanted?” Glaring at the people around us, who backed away in fear, he went on. “I could have made you happy. I thought you wanted me to prove to you that I was strong enough to be your lifemate. I had no idea that this is what you had in mind. What were you thinking?”
      Holding still, I shook my head and raised my shoulders in answer.
    “Well, I hope you win, or that you are ready to live with the consequences,” he said, nodding toward my cousin who was speaking with my uncle Rayneld, a great bear of a man. With that last warning still ringing in my ears, Fenri pushed past me roughly and headed away from the crowds, steering clear of the medical tent.
    Dropping my head in shame, I looked at my scuffed boot. I felt defeated. My only hope now was to win the competition and maybe try to convince him of what I was trying to do later. I gripped my sword in anger and waited until it was my turn to enter the ring.
    The crowd parted for Bvork. Raising his hands to the crowds, he saluted them and then strutted in carrying a two-handed broad sword and no shield. He fought with a shield with Fenri. He must be changing his tactics after talking to his father.
    Looking at Rayneld, I saw that his black beady eyes narrowed as he studied me and then nodded to his son. Sweat started to pool down my back as I looked at his son too. He must be extremely confident in his blocking abilities if he chose to fight without a shield.
    There went my plan. He must have heard that I won most of my fights by breaking the shield. Now I would have to win by disarming him or pushing him out of the ring. Licking my lips nervously, I waited in the center for him to approach me.
    “Ah, what’s this? How did a young boy like you