“Having fun?” Lord Irrik drawled, leaning against the bars. His finger twitched, I swear, and I screeched a second time, bringing the pot down on his head again. I stared at the chamber pot in shock and then at Jotun. Jotun’s eyes widened then rolled back in his head, and he hit the ground like a sack of rotten spuds. No one was more surprised than I when it connected with his head. I glanced down, picked up the chamber pot, and swung with all my might. Jotun, remember that time the king hit you and you whimpered like an animal? Remember the other day when Lord Irrik, the guy you hate who also happens to be your dad, gave you the biggest butt-whipping of all time? “Jotun, your face is like a masticated, spat out piece of grisly meat.” I smiled at my witty inner dialogue, shrieking in surprised fright a second later when Jotun roared and charged at me.

I celebrated my victory but didn’t press him further. The king has ordered it.” Jotun stopped in his tracks. I straightened and said, “You can’t harm me.

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