The Delta's Daughter Chapter 272

TAWNY

4 Months Earlier

For weeks we trained the Cambiador warriors. Taking a page out of MacTire’s book and splitting the warriors into five groups. Alpha, Beta, and Delta platoons. The other two platoons were named Gamma divisions. They were the warriors that would stay behind and protect the Kingdom’s capital. Then there were the new recruits, the younger werecats - the Zeta team. It was their job to act as enforcers in emergencies until they came of age or moved up to the gamma divisions.

Crimson, Mason, and I had done a fine job of training up our army and getting them fighting-ready and confident to face Orion Artos and his army of crawlers and rogues.

I stood next to Mason’s side as we watched our fighters, men and women training. Unfortunately, there were only a handful of women who joined the Cambiador army. But it was a start in the right direction. I personally had started their training, until they were strong enough and skilled enough to join a higher ranking.

Even Gillian, who was not enlisted in the army, had started training with me. She wanted to be strong for her kingdom and in her words ‘I want to throw it in my father’s face that women can defend and fight their home’

I was proud of her for wanting to better herself.

“Are you ready for today, Princess?” Mason asked clapping a large hand on my shoulder as we both watched the training field fill with not only competitors but spectators too.

Today was the Beta challenge. “The question is, are you ready, Mason?”

He laughs a deep chuckle that holds amusement “I’m not worried, I trained all these fuckers. Not one of them can beat me.”

“You hope.” I tease him.

There’s a large painted ring in the middle of the main training field that sits between the warrior’s quarters. Warriors who wish to compete are gathering one side of the field. On the opposite end - tiered stadium seating has been arranged with platforms in the center where the high-ranking lords will sit with a canopy to shade them from the scorching heat.

My eyes landed on Lord Maydor, whose own eyes were narrowed and glaring in my direction. This man was not a fan of mine. There was no mistaking the look he was aiming at me for anything less than deep loathing and despicable.

The ranking Lord Didn’t even know me, much less hate me. I had determined that his show of abhorrence was due to me one being a woman and two because I was the rightful heir to the Cambiador throne. At least that’s what I figured it was. Anything more than that I was oblivious to.

A large digital clock sat high on a pole across from the spectators. each opponent had one minute to pin their opposition or knock them out. If neither contender gained a pin in the time allotted, then their match would be forfeited, and they would be out of the running.

An older warrior had been chosen to announce, start and call the fights. His voice rang out loud and proud as he called the first pair of fighters forward, reading names off a scroll.

Two young men stepped forward. Both bounced on the balls of their feet, shaking their limbs out, loosening up. A whistle blew the two entered the ring at high speed. Colliding in the center and began to trade punches and kicks.

With less than seconds to go, the match was over with one guy pinned beneath the other and minimal bloodshed.

Several fights later, Mason was called up. “Wish me luck, Princess,” He said giving me a flash of white teeth as he smiled with a boatload of confidence, surprising me by planting a kiss on my cheek before he happily strolled to the side of the ring.

“Good luck!” I called out knowing he would easily win. Shit, we had been training these warriors we knew all their strengths and weaknesses. It was no contest.

The whistle blew and Mason moved fast against his opponent. Grabbing the warrior by his arms and kicking his feet from under him. He grappled him to the ground with ease, pinning him in less than thirty seconds.

The whistle blew and I clapped and cheered for Mason. He would now move on to the next round. In round two, they were given three minutes to win. This time a pin wouldn’t cut it. No, this time they had to knock their opponent out by either, well, knock out or surrender. No death blows were allowed but they could shift if needed. The second round of matches would be much bloodier.

Again, the old warrior began to call out names after a twenty-minute break. Explaining the rules of round two to each contender.

Each match was more brutal than the last. Finally, Mason was called again. And again, he confidently walked to the edge of the ring. Head held high, he stripped his shirt revealing the tight cut of his muscles and washboard abs. The sound of female sighs filled the silent air as we waited for the whistle to blow indicating the fight to begin.

I looked around and saw many more females in the audience than I knew existed in Cambiador. I gave a light chuckle then called out to Mason “Hey Mase! You have a fan club!”

Mason turned his head and nodded indicating the group of females who were all looking at him with lust and hunger. Some were even extra, fanning themselves and batting their eyelashes rapidly. I watched the smile on Mason’s face stretch, and he winked at the girls and then flexed his muscles for them.

“Goddess,” I sighed out as the females made a big production for him, even to the point of feigning passing out. It’s like Mason was a freaking superstar. I felt embarrassed about the way they were behaving.

My gaze traveled from the fawning females and landed on Crimson who sat by Lord Maydor and Gillian. As if he felt my stare his eyes locked with mine, deep yellows flashed to those deeper reds sending a shiver right down my spine. How did he change his eyes like that? My heart dropped a little when he tore his gaze from mine, turning his attention to his fiancée and planting a kiss on her lips. His eye flickered back to me as he did so.

The whistle blew grabbing my attention. I managed to tear my attention away from my mate, my hand rubbing my chest where my heart physically ached. I had managed to stay away from Crimson and vice versa. I made sure we were never left alone, always having either Gillian, Mason, Wyvern, or another warrior or guard with us. I didn’t trust him, and I certainly didn’t trust myself to be alone with him. There would be no repeat of his hands on me or in me.

A nasty growl had my head snapping up to the ring. Mason had been wounded, the smell of his blood permeating the air. His opponent had partially shifted and managed to claw Mason’s shoulder. The deep angry red lines oozed blood.

Like a wild cat, Mason growled. His chest puffed out and his frame became larger with anger. A warrior by the name of Simeon. A large werecat who got a lucky scratch in, suddenly began shaking as Mason stalked toward him. The warrior shifted into a large honey-colored cougar snarling and growling. Suddenly Mason leaped toward the warrior, shifting midair. I was always amazed by the size of Mason’s were-form, a large and powerful light yellow with darker brown spots panther.

A fury of teeth and claws accompanied by growls and hisses filled the stadium air as the two werecats fought. The bloodiest battle there had been all day.

I held my breath until finally, Mason’s cat had the warrior pinned on the ground. With his claws sunk deep into his side and the warrior lay still in a position of submission. The whistle blew indicating the match had ended.

I ran up to him, grabbing a towel as I did and assessing his injuries. “Shit are you ok?” I asked while my hand automatically came up placing the towel over the bleeding claw marks left behind on his shoulder.

“yeah, fine.” He gritted. “The little piss ant caught me off guard,” He growled his words out between clenched teeth.

I frowned, knowing that was not like him at all “How?” I queried, pressing the towel tighter to the wound, soaking up the blood that had begun to clot and already heal.

“He said some stupid shit. Insulted you.” His strained and clipped.

“What did he say, Mason?” He shook his head. “Tell me.” I implored.

He shook his head again “Nothing worth repeating.”

“Mason,” I growled out, purposefully applying harder pressure to his wounds making him wince.

“He called you a rankwhore.” He growled out. “Said looks like the princess has founder a richer dick to suck. Do you have a thing for Crimson Tawny?” I swiped my free hand down my face, letting the towel and my hand drop from his shoulder. There was an undertone of hurt in Mason’s voice and when I peered into his eyes, I could see the slightest hint of jealousy too.

“No,” I said resolutely. And I meant it. I did not have a thing for Crimson, the only thing between us was the fact that he was my damn goddess-given mate, and he couldn’t feel the bond. That and he was contractually bound to Gillian.

No, I definitely did not have a thing for Crimson – outside of the pull of the bond.

Yet, even my own thoughts didn’t sit well with me or my feline as I felt her stir with unease.

We watched the final few of the matches, Wyvern, the warrior whom I had first met when I came here, finished in second place behind Mason. Meaning he would become the second, second in command under Crimson.

As the Old warrior read out the winner’s names and Wyvern and Mason stood to acknowledge their wins and new positions, Crimson and Gillian made their way down the ring. Probably to congratulate the winners.

Crimson held out his hand to Wyvern and Gillian came to stand with me. Before Crimson could even utter a word Lord Maydor’s voice rang out over the excited chatter of the crowd. “There is still one challenge that shall be held today!”

All eyes turned to the Ranked Lord. His beady blue eyes bore into me, making the hairs on my neck stand up.

“What in Bastet’s name is he up to?” Murmured Gillian. She nervously twisted her fingers as we watched with agitated unease as her father stepped out and down from his tented seating.

“As this competition was for rank, it is only fair that the title for the crown is challenged,” The crowd gasped. Hushed whispers and muttering began to climb in volume. Maydor made his way to the ring standing in the middle, he faced the crowd. Hands stretched out, palms up he addressed the crowd and the crowd “Council members, Lords, today we held a competition for the rank of second in command. However, no one has contested to who will be crowned ruler of Cambiador. Kolby Crimson was next in line until she,” He pointed directly at me, “came here claiming the crown because of her blood ties to the late King Armand. Yes, I know,” He quieted the shocked crowd, hushing them with his hands. “It is only right that the princess fights for her status. Never in our history has anyone not had to fight for their rank and title.”

“Where is he going with this?” I whispered to Mason, folding my arms over my chest with a huff of annoyance. There was no way he surely thought any female here could defeat me. And surely hoped he didn’t think he was going to pit his own daughter against me.

“As the crown sits between Kolby Crimson and Princess Tawny – undecided. It is only fair that anyone can challenge the princess for the right to claim the crown."

“Motherfucker.” Crimson growls out.

“Can he do that?” Gillian asks him, grabbing his arm, a look of worry etched into her features.

“Yes.” Was Crimson’s clipped tone “The law states that if the crown/throne has not been directly passed to an heir in a position to claim it then that heir can be challenged for the title.”

Well, fuck me.

“Then why haven’t you been challenged?” Mason asks the question I was thinking.

“My rank cannot be challenged until my contract with Gillian has been fulfilled.” I watch Crimson’s fist clench, his jaw tightens, and his brows pull together in frustration. “Basically, I am in line for the throne, and I have a contracted mate. Until that contract ends, I cannot be challenged as I have someone to rule by my side. The princess does not have a mate, chosen or contracted. No one to fight for her honor. Therefore, she can be challenged for her place.”

“So, what, the challenger then automatically becomes princess or prince?” I ask with wide eyes, not believing or understanding how this works.

“No, then they would have to wait until my contract is up and then they could challenge me for the crown.” Crimson hisses. “This why your grandfather was quick to have Gillian and I engaged.”

“Do we have a challenger for the princess?” Lord Maydor’s meddling voice cuts through our hushed conversation. A sick smirk graces his face and triumphant glint gleams in his beady eyes.

Bastard

“I Tomislav Oresic, Challenge the princess for the right to the crown!” All eyes turn to the hulking werecat that stands up amongst the crowd, a man who was sitting to the left of Maydor’s tent.

The dude is huge, built like a werewolf with mean eyes and bulking muscles. A man I had never seen before - a werecat who was not a warrior but was built like a brick shit house and twice as intimidating.

“She will not fight him.” Mason seethes with anger “I will fight in her honor.” He speaks.

“You can’t,” Crimson replies, a deadly strain to his voice.

“Lords and councilmen, will you enforce the challenge as allowed by our laws?”

In a flash, Crimson is in front of Lord Maydor snarling in his face “This is unfair.”

“There is nothing unfair about this,” Maydor replies in a calm and even tone “Our laws fairly state that the princess can be challenged for her right to claim the crown as she is unmated and unwed.” The smirk still on Maydor’s face, twists into a mocking smile “Maybe if she is lucky, Tomislav will claim her as his.”

I see claws protrude from Crimson’s hands. His skin begins to heat to a deep shade of red. At first, I thought it was his anger making him flush, but as I look closer, I see his skin is actually changing – morphing. A thin sheen of crimson fur begins to coat his bare arms and his ears become pointy.

Gillian grabs my arm, her grip tight and scared. “He can’t change here!” Fear was evident in her voice, so much fear. I can’t drag my eyes away from the slow gradual change that is consuming Crimson. A shift like I have never seen before. His skin seemingly rippling.

Without removing my eyes from my mate, I find myself stepping forward, out of Gillian’s grasp. “I accept the challenge!” The words tumble from my mouth before I can even think about them. I hear Mason’s protests, but it’s Crimson my sights are trained on. As if brought out of his daze, his crimson skin ripples again, changing back to the caramel of his natural color. His ears relax and their pointiness of them recedes.

“I stand up straighter and repeat “I accept the challenge!”

“No princess…” Crimson’s eyes and words beg me not to, turning away from Gillian’s father.

“The challenge has been accepted!” One of the councilmen declares to the waiting crowd. More chatter and protests can be heard “My way of Cambiador law, this fight shall commence. We will proceed in 30 minutes for the final match!” He announces.

“I told you shit works differently here,” I hear Mason’s words but I’m still staring at Crimson whose eyes hold mine.

“Who is he?” I ask Crimson, finally able to tear my eyes from him and work them towards the hulking werecat called Tomislav. Maydor walks straight up to him, a beaming and triumphant smile on his face as he takes the werecat’s hand and vigorously shakes it – as if the werecat has already won.

Not if I can help it. I think to myself.

Juniper paces in my mind. I can feel her hackles raised and her abhorrence toward the Lord and our challenger. She won’t go down without a fight.