One was a gargantuan man standing beside Duke Perrington, who seemed crafted of muscle and steel—and took pains to display it with his sleeveless armor. The man’s arms looked capable of crushing a horse’s skull. It wasn’t that he was ugly—in fact, his tanned face was rather pleasant, but there was something nasty about his demeanor, about his obsidian eyes as they shifted and met her own. His large, white teeth gleamed.
The king spoke. “You are each competing for the title of my Champion—my right-hand sword in a world brimming with enemies.”
A flicker of shame sparked within her. What was “Champion” but a dressed-up name for murderer? Could she actually stomach working for him? She swallowed. She had to. She had no other choice.
“Over the next thirteen weeks, you shall each dwell and co
