The floor was slick with blood at Daisy’s feet. The nobles were all in their places, having watched all the fights for the day, save hers. She and this female were last.
The king waited on his dais, his blood-red eyes gleaming. The diamond chalice sat beside him on the chair, his long, spindly fingers wrapped around it.
The female stopped on the other side of the pool of blood. Her gaze flicked down to it, over to the king, then finally to Daisy. Her expression was unreadable. Her free hand flexed and then curled into a fist. The female had helped Daisy, Daisy had helped the female, and now one would kill the other. Welcome to life with the fae.
“Do not kill the human,” the king called out. “Break her, only. If you can.”
He leaned back on his throne, his smile predatory. He’d pitted Daisy against arguably the weakest of the champions, save Daisy herself. Both of them were hiding their true skills. Neither could hide any longer.
“Commence,” the voice boomed.
The female’s eyes took in the blood at their feet again. She stepped forward once, christening the soul of her boot.
Daisy withered the female’s magic as she ripped out one of her throwing knives. She took it by the blade, balanced, and threw. It somersaulted in the air, end over end.
The female barely looked up. She didn’t even sight in on the throwing knife. She leaned to the side, and the knife went right on by, slicing a strand of hair as it did so.
Daisy expected the female to attack, but she didn’t. She paused, actually, her gaze going down and to the right, like she was listening. A couple people yelled, someone screamed, andchairs and couches scraped against the floor. The knife flowered blood in a noble’s shoulder.
The female’s eyes lifted, a violet sheen glowing within them. Mirth twinkled in their depths. If she was worried about Daisy taking her magic, she didn’t show it. She must have known it, though, because she could no longer read Daisy’s mind. She simply wasn’t concerned.
Uneasy with the enigma, Daisy took out two more knives, stepped one foot over the other, and threw in quick succession. Her technique was perfect, the throws on target, and the knives left with speed. Daisy didn’t expect them to land, not when the female had been looking right at her, but she did expect the female to jerk out of the way. To give a pronounced twist or feint.
Instead, the female took an unhurried, graceful step to the right.
She shouldn’t have been able to get out of the way with the slowness of that step. She barely moved a shoulder, and both knives flew past.
Daisy couldn’t have gotten out of the way like that. On her best and fastest day, she wasn’t that good.
Unease jiggled her stomach. She didn’t bother looking to see if any nobles got hit. She took out her magical knife and thought about taking out a dagger too.
The female stepped farther into the pool of blood. Her eyes tracked Daisy as she, too, stepped. Another foot, the knife loosening a bit in her hand. She didn’t look frightened—she had to know that Daisy wasn’t fooled.
To rush or not to rush…
Daisy stood her ground as the female took another step. Then another. The female’s knees bent just a little. Her body was completely loose. Ready.
Fuck, this was going to go badly. Daisy could feel it in her gut.
She grabbed the dagger and started forward. There was no point in delaying. Time to see what this female could really do.
When she’d cut the distance in half, her steps confident, the female stepped forward. Daisy slashed with her dagger, expected the easy dodge, and thrust forward with her elongating magical knife. The female stepped and slashed, the strike coming so fast and with such precision that Daisy barely got her hand up to block in time.
Their forearms clashed. Daisy dragged her knife, point down, and her arm away. The blade just caught flesh.
The female didn’t so much as flutter her eyes. It was like she hadn’t felt it at all.
Daisy struck with the other knife as she stepped. Pulled back and struck again, rotating them. The female stepped with her in perfect synergy. Her knife flashed out, raking across the air right in front of Daisy’s chest. Daisy replied with a strike of her own, equally missing.
On they went, stepping and thrusting, dodging and attacking. The female might’ve been Daisy’s mirror, the steps perfectly timed, the strikes all a fraction too short or too wide. It was as if she wasn’t trying to hit Daisy, but rather was toying with her.
Unexpectedly, the female launched at Daisy.
Daisy spun and kicked. She made contact with a shin. The female faltered, and Daisy was there, batting the knife out of her hand and to the ground. She kicked it away before stabbing forward.
The female ducked and turned. Her leg came out of absolutely nowhere and swept Daisy’s ankles. Her weight shifted, and she went down.
“Sweep the leg, Johnny,” Daisy muttered as she rolled, barely avoiding a downward thrust of a knife that hadn’t been in that female’s hand a moment before. “Sweep the leg!”
