I'd Like to See You Try
© Luciana Rielle 2026. All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the author’s written permission.
WILLOW
My arms scream in their sockets as two massive orcs haul me across the blood-slick stones of Sun Square. My feet kick uselessly above the ground, toes scraping air. “Unhand me, you filthy brutes, let me go!” The scream rips out of me until my throat burns.
Then I see him.
The screams die in my chest.
He stands dead center of the square like a nightmare given muscle and height. Taller than any man or orc I’ve ever heard of, shoulders wide enough to block out the sun, green skin splashed with my people’s blood, a long black blade still dripping in his fist. And gods help me, he’s handsome.
How could he possibly be handsome?
Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, eyes like molten gold under heavy brows. The tales always said orcs were grotesque.
They lied.
My beautiful little island kingdom, our tiny sun-drenched haven, reduced in hours to this: bodies in Sun Guard blue crumpled like broken dolls, blood running in the cracks between stones.
Before I can breathe again, they hurl me forward. I hit the stone hard, knees and palms scraping raw. Pain flares up my arms. I force myself up onto my knees anyway, chin lifted, staring straight into those burning eyes.
He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a mildly interesting insect.
“Well,” his voice rolls out, deep and mocking, “this is the famous Sun Jade of Sun Country? The beauty they sing about in every tavern from the Iron Peaks to the Sapphire Strait?” A low, cruel chuckle. “I expected… more. You’re plain as dirt, girl. Plump. Forgettable. Your face looks like the baker forgot to finish kneading it.”
Heat floods my cheeks, shame and fury twisting together. I clench my fists so hard my nails bite skin.
“You’re as ugly as they say,” I spit back, voice shaking but loud enough for the whole square to hear. “Even uglier. You waited for coronation day, My father was barely cold in his grave then you came ten-to-one like the coward you are.”
His golden eyes narrow, amused.
“Coward?” he repeats softly.
One of his lieutenants steps forward, bowing low. “Warlord Draven, that one isn’t the Sun Jade. The pretty one, Crown Princess Mara, slipped through the east gate with a handful of guards. Shall we give chase?”
Draven. So that’s the name of the monster.
He doesn’t even glance at the orc. His eyes stay locked on me.
“No,” he says lazily. “We’ll have the elder princess soon enough. She’ll come crawling back when she realizes there’s nowhere left to run.”
I surge to my knees, chains rattling around my ankles. “Let my people go!” My voice cracks. “They’ve done nothing to you. They’re farmers, bakers, children, let them go!”
He hums, considering, then shrugs one massive shoulder.
“Very well.” That mocking smile again. “Any man here who can step forward, take a blade, and cut off one of my tusks… I’ll let the rest walk free.” His gaze slides back to me, heavy and hot. “Not you, though. You stay. You’re the replacement for your sister.”
Silence. Thick, choking silence.
Not one guard stands. Not one farmer. Not even old Master Torren who used to teach me archery in secret.
My heart cracks open wider.
I swallow the sob in my throat and force myself to my feet.
“I’ll do it.”
A ripple of murmurs. Draven’s brows lift.
“You?” He sounds delighted.
“I challenge you.”
He studies me another long second, then jerks his chin at one of his orcs. “Give her a sword.”
They drag a blade from the nearest corpse, a Sun Guard captain I recognize. The steel is still wet, dark red clinging to the edge. They throw it at my feet. It clangs and skids, leaving a smear.
My stomach lurches. I swallow bile, bend, and pick it up. The hilt is sticky. I grip it anyway.
Draven draws his own monstrous blade one-handed, like it weighs nothing.
“Begin,” he says.
I don’t wait.
I lunge, clumsy and desperate, fueled by rage instead of training. He doesn’t even step. Just slaps my blade aside with a lazy flick that nearly tears it from my hands. I stumble, swing again wildly. He catches my wrist mid-arc, twists, and suddenly I’m flying.
The world flips.
My back slams hard against stone. Air explodes from my lungs.
Before I can gasp he’s on me, huge, hot, heavy. One massive hand clamps around my throat, pinning me down. Not crushing. Not yet. Just enough that black stars burst behind my eyes. His weight crushes my hips to the ground, his face inches from mine.
“Your people are mine,” he says, voice soft, almost gentle. “And so are you.”
I thrash, nails clawing at his wrist. Tears stream sideways into my hair. My vision darkens at the edges.
I choke out the only thing left in me.
“I hate you.” Spit flecks his cheek. “And I will kill you.”
His thumb strokes once along the frantic pulse in my throat.
His smile is slow. Dangerous. Promising.
“Is that so, little Sun Princess?”
“I’d like to see you try.”
The pressure tightens just enough.
Everything starts to fade.
Black blooms at the edges of my vision. My lungs burn, clawing for air that won’t come. My nails rake uselessly at the iron band of his forearm.
I’m already gone, I think.
This is how it ends.
On dirty stone, in front of my chained people, under the weight of the monster who destroyed my world.
And then…
a trope i've never thought i'd come across, but will now never put down! it reads beautifully!
I got terrified after reading the rest of the episodes.. especially how long his dih...
Hmmmm, he has to grow on me I think.........🤔😆