Then his gaze lifted to mine.
For a glimmering second, the world narrowed to Fieran and to me.
Then Ander slashed again, and Fieran raised his blade, defending himself. He was up and moving with otherworldly grace, quick and lethal even wounded.
Ander launched himself at Fieran, and the two of them locked blades, their faces inches apart above the gleaming swords. They strained against each other, jaws clenched and muscles straining.
Ander tried to break their clash. Fieran moved to deflect his attack, and the platform shifted just slightly. Their blades slipped against each other’s, and Fieran took the opportunity to punch Ander in the face. Ander rocked back, twisting his sword, and both swords spun from their hands.
The swords skittered across the marble. Both of them lunged in one, but they were too late; the swords vanished into the black water. The two of them paused at the edge of the now-tilting platform, staring at each other.
Empty-handed, but full of hate.
Then they collided with each other. Ander slammed into Fieran, tackling him backwards. Fieran caught Ander’s arms and rolled with him, throwing Ander over his body as if to make the man follow his sword. But Ander managed to land on the edge of the platform, and as it tilted wildly toward him, he launched himself to land on Fieran.
Ander brought his fist down on Fieran’s face, and Fieran blocked it with his forearm, rewarding him with a brutal uppercut that snapped Ander’s head to the side. Ander staggered, his mouth bloodied, and then he went low to the ground, striking out to take Fieran’s feet from underneath him. The staggering had always been a ruse.
And for once, Fieran’s arrogance had betrayed him. He managed to stay on his feet, but Ander was up again and landed a savage punch to Fieran’s ribs. Fieran responded by closing up with him, driving his knee mercilessly into Ander’s gut. The two of them closed up, intimate as an embrace, but this embrace was all driven knees and fists and brutality.
It had seemed as if Fieran would win, even with luck itself as his enemy.
But now, Ander pummeled Fieran mercilessly, each blow landing with a sickening thud that snapped Fieran’s head back. More blood streaked the marble.
My fingers dug into my arms before I realized I was holding myself as if I were about to fly apart.
Ander forced Fieran down onto one knee, then hammered a brutal kick into his ribs. Fieran choked on a sound I’d never heard from him, his body curling with instinctive pain. I’d never seen his head bowed before anyone before.
I paced, driven by guilt and shame and fear for both of them. I didn’t want either of them hurt.
Ander drove another vicious kick into Fieran’s side, this one lifting him off the ground before slamming him back onto the marble. The impact rippled through the water, throughme.
Fieran was still on the marble. Ander paced toward him, leaving bloody bootprints.
This was punishment. Ordered by the queen and carried out brutally by Ander with fury that made me feel afraid to have sided withhim. Punishment for sins between the two of them that I would never understand. Panic clawed its way up my throat.
“Ander.” The desperation in my voice startled me, but it didn’t seem to surprise Ander.
“Last blood, Cara.” His voice was rough. “It has to be this way.”
Fieran tried to rise. He pressed his hand to the marble, muscles straining as he almost made it to his feet, but his palm slid in his own blood. He fell to his knees.
The arena was silent, holding its breath with me. Waiting for the invincible Fear to find a way to rise once more, to turn this battle the way he always did.
Ander struck again.
Fieran slammed into the rocking platform. His body was slack as Ander stood over him, breathing hard. Terror slid through me like a blade.
Fieran didn’t rise.
Suddenly, the ring of fire died. The flames collapsed in on themselves, suffocated by an unseen hand.
The last of the smoke drifted away, leaving Ander and Fieran, both bloodied, even the victor swaying on his feet with his hand clutching his ribs as if he were holding them together.
Slowly, reluctantly, Ander looked away from Fieran’s still, bloodied figure to the queen.
“She’s mine, by right of combat.” Ander’s voice was raw. He had not looked at me since he threw his sigil at my feet, and he didn’t look at me now.
The queen inclined her head. “The mortal has been claimed by Clan Amber.”
