“I always thought you would be the type of leader to fight alongside his soldiers,” she called out.
He sneered. “I only fight when it’s necessary.”
She adjusted her grip on her sword. He watched the move, and she hoped he couldn’t see the way her hands shook. “I’m here to invite you to join in on the fun.”
“Ah, yes, the death of good soldiers. What a fun game.”
“You called it that yourself.The game of war.Tell me—did you intend to sound pretentious, or was it accidental?” Provoking him was both entertaining and necessary. She needed him off his horse if she wanted any chance at winning their fight. Andin order to do that, she had to complete the wonderful task of infuriating him.
“I don’t have time for this.” His knuckles turned white around the reins. “You were a decent warrior, smart enough that I had to get rid of you before you could catch on. Because of that, I’ll let you rejoin your little friends in their fight. I’m sure they’ll need any help they can get on the beach. You can die honorably.”
She scoffed. His manipulations wouldn’t work on her again. “That isn’t how this is going to happen. You fought with words in Caisleán. I think it’s time to see how your sword measures up.”
“You’re awfully confident for a spoiled princess.”
“And you pretend to be honorable despite being a traitor. For someone who seemed so interested in how this will look in history, what do you think they’ll say about you?” His eyes narrowed. She held back a smirk. “You’ll be written about as a coward, a traitor to your kingdom. Or maybe they won’t remember you at all.”
With a thump, Kordislaen landed on the ground beside his horse. He pulled his blade out from its leather scabbard. “You never learned how to keep your mouth shut, did you?”
She smiled, despite the nerves tangling inside her. “No.”
He didn’t give her time to prepare. His first attack was strong and swift, her blade barely blocking it in time. She fell back a step but returned his strike with her own.
They took turns attacking and defending, their swords performing a waltz with no lead.
Her jaw clenched. While he had been sitting and watching, she had been fighting. The remainders of the battle ached in her bones. He was a roaring fire, while she began to wither in the winter air.
His blade flew at her, faster than she could anticipate. The cold metal bit into the skin of her cheek, and she felt warm blood begin to drip down her skin. A hiss of pain rushed through her lips as she twisted away.
“You should have left when I told you to.” He smirked, and the desire to make him hurt boiled in her veins.
She swiped the blood away from her cheek, something that seemed like a good idea but only made it sting more.Fuck.
Instead of responding, she took his advice. She stayed quiet and ran her sword straight for his gut. She knew it wouldn’t do anything—his iron-plated armor left little exposed for her to aim at. But he didn’t expect it, and it forced him back a step.
He recovered quickly, thrusting forward.
His sword came for her heart.
Her arms were too weak, her legs too tired. She couldn’t dodge. She couldn’t block.
She stared as the weapon made contact, and took in one last breath.
Kordislaen’s sword glanced off the fabric. She barely felt it.
He stared at her. “That’sarmor?”
Her lunge was fast, this time a swipe at his vulnerable legs. His response was a beat late, and his stance left him off-balance. She stepped forward, capitalizing, giving him no room to respond with strength. His next strike was easy to push away as she kicked his knee. She was rewarded with a satisfying crack.
He stumbled, and before he could right himself, she lunged at him with brute force. The look on his face as he fell to the ground was something she would treasure for a long time.
Her foot landed on the wrist holding his sword, and she applied pressure until his grip loosened enough for her to remove the blade. He tried to twist away from her hold. With a subtle shift in her weight and a passive tilt of her ankle, something dislodged in his wrist.
He groaned in pain, but she didn’t let up. Her blade kissed the skin of his throat. Any movement more than a shallow breath would tear it open.
He was silent. If they were training, this would be the end of it. He would surrender, and she would remove her sword. She would extend her hand to help him up. It would be over.
When she looked down, she saw the eyes of the man who tried to turn her against Ronan. Who tried to manipulate him. Who poisoned Sárait. Who aimed to destroy Caisleán and her kingdom. Who made her doubt everything—her ability, her friends, her self-worth.
