1

It was fucking cold and my arm was killing me. Using it as a shield from Elena’s sword may not have been the smartest move, but I was alive and she wasn’t. Her blood soaked the sand of the arena, not mine. Apparently Graff Von Zimmer had transferred my winnings into a numbered Swiss bank account for me. I vaguely remembered him telling me on the plane just after leaving the island, but my memory was a little hazy to say the least. The money would, of course, only be mine if I survived another two races. My chances were slim to none, but I’d survived the first one with absolutely no training, so maybe, just maybe, with some real training, I stood a chance. A small chance, but one I had to take. It wasn’t like I had a choice.

My room in the Graff’s castle was bigger than my entire flat back in Johannesburg. It also had considerably fewer rats, I hoped. My new bed was larger and much more comfortable. My suite was the epitome of opulence. Thankfully it was relatively modern in style and not classical baroque like some parts of the fortress’ interior or a throwback to the dark ages. Not that I’d seen much of the place. The sword I’d won was propped up against the wall on the other side of the room—discarded. Just looking at the damn thing made me want to hurl chunks.

I’d slept most of the way from the island, thanks to the pain meds, exhaustion, and dehydration, which had made consciousness impossible. I’d only been in the drafty Schloss a few hours and I already wasn’t a fan of German weather. The sleet hadn’t stopped since our arrival. The fire in the hearth and the blankets I snuggled under did little to warm me up. I was frozen to my very core.

Shock will do that to you.

The snow and the impenetrable walls formed a silent cocoon around me. The stillness isolated and unnerved me. I longed for the sounds of the city. To hear kids screaming as they played, or my neighbour’s crap music, which he always played way too loud. I wondered what would happen to all my stuff back home. I didn’t have much but it was mine. Or at least it had been. One of my neighbours would probably help themselves to everything when I didn’t come home. They wouldn’t wait long, if they hadn’t already done so.

I tried getting up, but my head spun, and pain shattered my resolve. Plus the moment my bare feet touched the marble floor my brain barely had time to register the temperature before my feet were tucked back underneath the blankets. Too fucking cold.

Thankfully, the dead quiet was interrupted by the sound of voices drifting through my bedroom door. I recognised Von Zimmer’s voice barking orders at someone. He opened the door and grunted some more in German at someone I couldn’t see from my bed. I heard rapidly retreating footsteps pounding down the passage. Clearly the man inspired enough fear in whoever he’d been speaking to, to result in such fast obedience.

He and I were going to have a lot of issues with each other. I wasn’t the obedient sort.

“Ah! You are awake,” Von Zimmer smiled as he strode into the room.

I simply snuggled deeper into the blankets, and stole a glance at my sword.

“My dear girl, you have no need to fear me. You are perfectly safe,” Von Zimmer said as he plonked down on the bed next to me. “We are going to be great friends, you and I, and to prove this I have brought another friend of mine to take a look at your wounds. He is a genius. The best in his field. You will be up and ready to fight in no time.” The bastard smiled again.

And with those words I realised that I’d be running and fighting for my life sooner than I’d thought.

Fuck!

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to rip his goddam throat out. But I didn’t. Instead I plastered a smile on my aching face and glanced over Von Zimmer’s shoulder, at the man standing in the doorway. Glasses perched on a slender nose. Unlike Von Zimmer his was a face that had known real laughter, laugh lines danced from his hazel eyes to his cheeks. He had an old, but kind face. It was the sort of face you would probably find yourself confessing your greatest sins to over a few glasses of wine—or in my case a few shots of tequila.

“May I present Herr Doctor Ernst Mannheim,” Von Zimmer said as he gestured at the old dude who smiled and did one of those old fashioned German bows. He even clicked his heels. I almost expected him to do a full on Hitler salute, but he didn’t. Thankfully.

I tried to smile again. It didn’t work.

My face felt as though it was contorted in a weird mask and the nerves in my cheeks felt like they were twitching. The pain meds I’d been given had well and truly worn off and my facial contortions were simply my body’s way of letting my incredibly stubborn brain know that I was not coping. After the twitching, numbness descended, and nausea joined in the fun as the room spun.

The old guy’s face loomed over me. A bright pinprick of light flashed across my vision, hurting my eyes. Then a slight slap stung each of my cheeks in turn, followed by a sharp stinging in the crook of my right arm. I floated. It was bliss. No more pain.

“She will sleep now, I think,” I heard a voice say from the other side of the void.