Her lips are still smirking when she reaches forward and brings a beautiful gold sword into existence.
Without batting an eyelash.
Without any sweat.
I don’t want to be impressed anymore, but fuck this!
I believe in you.Aidon’s muted voice sounds at the edge of my mind.
“It was a misunderstanding,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to... myself. Feeling forced to acknowledge what she said. What she spat, more likely.
I draw from my power to wield a sword and make the stupid mistake of closing my eyes, because the impersonation of me has no sense of fucking honour. Instead of waiting for me to get ready, she charges, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake.
Anxious and more than a little unnerved, I hurry to summon the sword. The gold blade appears in my hand, but before I can get into a defensive stance, she changes tactics, wielding a crossbow and aiming straight at my arm.
Ahh, fuck this! How dare she? I throw caution to the wind and charge at the motherfucking bitch—a real insult, considering how awful my mommy is.
She parries my attack with ease, and I stagger back, gasping.
“We don’t exercise, what a bullshit,” I mutter, while she appraises and clearly finds me lacking.
“You are so pathetic,” she says dryly, her tone full of mock sympathy.
“At least I exist!” I retort, but she uses the moment to make a badass turn and sink the blade into the gravel, cutting me right under my knees.
The pain explodes as I drop to the ground, flinching when my skin grazes the cut.
“It’s unrealistic, I don’t work out.” It’s the only thing obsessively running through my stupid mind.
She seizes the moment of inattention, slamming her fungus foot into my head before driving the sword right into my throat.
I have no choice but to surrender, the fucking sword point pressed against my vital spot. The moment I yield, the clone disappears.
“Round one ended in an astonishingly shameful defeat. Is Seleste Berigander even worth our alliance?” Margorate’s screams echo across the arena.
My cheeks flush as I rise, flinching from the throbbing pain.
Riven, Aidon, and Jestin wait for me at the edge of the circle. I wince at their faces, reading only confusion, concern, and quiet disappointment. Yet they don’t comment. Apparently, they can’t find the words to describe how big of a loser I am.
Riven grabs my hand as soon as I reach them, and his healing magic rushes to mend the worst of the injuries, but it only stops the bleeding.
I let them lead me out of the circle.
“Karo!” I bellow, noticing the girl in the shadows near the drums. She scurries to me.
“Give me a moment,” I say to the males and leave. Thankfully, they don’t follow.
“Give me more,” I order.
She shakes her head, “The Witch said no more than one a day.”
“The witch isn’t here, is she?” I snarl, ignoring the drilling gazes of my males from where they are standing. “You will listen to me or I will find a new herbalist.”
“Yes, My Lady,” She bows, avoiding eye contact, and reaches to her satchel, giving me the remedy.
I massage it into my pulse quickly, before they think about snatching it from me. The immediate clarity is wonderful. I stretch, making my way to Margorate and my males, who now chat with her.
“Bring the doppelganger back,” I order.
