Claimed By The Exiled Tiger King

Abigail register

lungs. The cough was violent, shaking her entire body, but it only dragged

ough, fibrous pressure bit into her wrists. She twisted, and the feeling of coarse bark scrapin

legs, so close it felt like standing in

her feet. Flames, bright and hungry, were already

came a cold, solid thing in her stomach.

rescue crews. Instead, a wall of strange, hostile faces surrounded her. People dressed in animal skins, their

her head. Amidst the roar of the flames and her own agonizing screams, the alien shouts of the crowd somehow twisted into understandable words in her mind

the ou

e must be

mbered was the blinding flash, the shriek of tearing metal as the Odyssey's hull failed. A

athers and what looked like a priestess's ceremonial robes. Her face was beautiful, but her e

lsea, lifted a

sharp, cutting through the roar of the crowd. "She frightened away the

el smile twisting her lips, and the

ames e

ught fire. The heat was no longer a threat; it was a physical assault,

ms raised in triumph. "She is a demon! H

em at the pyre. One grazed Abigail's forehead, sharp and brutal, sending a trickle of

p beneath her academic degrees, forged from years of surviving entirely on her own when no one else would protect her. Her posture shifted, her jaw setting into a h

breath, the smoke searin

OUG

th a modern authority, a self-possession these primit

ied in their throats. For a single, stunned

a severe, calculating authority. He wore the pelt of a massive silver fox, and a heavy staff made o

m. "Chieftain, we must not listen! Do not l

s a leader, and Abigail's brain, working on pure adrenaline, cataloged it instantly. This ma

eftain said, his voice a low rumble. "You

it. Her o

e. The fire was now at her knees, the pain a const

each word precise. "A leader's job is to ensure his p

ng laughter went

couldn't survive a day in

e's just trying to d

ransaction. You're facing a famine because you lost a hunt. Give me three da

e, but a flicker of something-interest,

but ash. You get the satisfaction of revenge, but your children will still starve. Let me live f

e tongue. It hit the Chieftain's pragmatism like a key sliding into a loc

The pain was blinding. She bit down on her lip, tasting blo

began to murmur amongst themsel

taff. He slammed it down onto the hard-p

our wager,"

ith disbelief and fury. "C

h a single, withering look. He

rward. They moved with a brutish efficiency, sa

forward, collapsing off the pyre and landing hard in the hot ash and embe

She beat at the smoldering patches on her tunic, her entire body a symphony of agony. But she sto

ave not returned with the food by sunset on the third day, you wi

legs shaking, every step an exercise in pure willp

ng stares, she walked, alone, toward the dar