“Then what?” I grind out, my pulse so heavy now I’m sure she can hear it.
Beth doesn't reply, just lifts her hand. I move, aiming for the other side of the mat—but not fast enough. More flame licks up my arm. I slap it down, cursing, the stink of burned skin sharp in my nose.
I twist back toward her, panic flaring—too messy, too loud—My Threads respond, but not how I want. They lash out in every direction, wild, unhinged. Every inhale burns now. I taste copper at the back of my throat, my magic turning sour, running dry.
Beth barely twitches. Just a small twist of her fingers—but the force is enough to knock the air out of me, and my knees hit the mat. I don’t remember falling.
“I told you to ignore your emotions,” she mocks, calm as ever from across the mat. “And now look where it’s gotten you.”
She doesn’t rush, doesn’t need to. She just waits, hands relaxed and stance loose, like she’s got all the time in the world. Because she does.
We’ve fought enough times for her to know exactly how much I’ve got left. Not much. Not after giving her everything I have.
I drag at my knots, hard and desperate, every bit of strength straining with it—still nothing.
I need to strike with what ever I have left—fast, clean, final.
But I need her closer first.
“You know, I was almost disappointed when the Snare Urchin didn’t gut you,” she calls as her Threads coil like whips around her fingers—tight and hungry. “But this?” Her mouth curves into something vicious. “Dropping you in front of an audience? So much more satisfying.”
The ground tilts, my head spins. That morning. The scrape of her nail. Talen’s coat pocket. Her brother’s a chef. She had access via Lucien. It was her all along; she tried to poison me? How long has she been planning this?
The world shrinks down to this moment. Her. Me. Then my breath falters, a tight, uneven pull snapping through me as the weight of it lands. No—no.Shecan’t be the reason all of this, leaving Ashvale, leaving Bren, coming back here, was all for nothing. And what, because she wants Talen?
My remaining Threads surge up, thick and blinding. I try to shove them down, wrestle them back into their cage—but my magic bucks harder. Like theywantthe fight. Like they don’t care if it gets me killed, but I can’t afford to release, not yet. I still need her closer.
“My mum died when I was young too,” she adds, like we’re just friends chatting as she starts walking in. “My dad remarried. Total whore, spent all his money.”
There’s a shift in the background—cadets moving, murmuring—but I can’t hear them. All I hear is my own breath now—ragged, raw and Beth’s footsteps, as they move towards me on the mat. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like a countdown. She twists her hand, and air tightens around me like a noose. A deep, sharp shock tears through me as my Threads flare, dangerous, explosive. But still I hold.Not yet.
“She drinks. He hits. My sister’s stuck in the middle of it. Sick and alone because I had to come to this cursed pit.” She steps closer. My pressure builds.Good. “Do you know how much her treatment is?” she asks, voice quiet. “A lot.” Another step. I keep still. Wait. Let her keep talking. “TalenVeirmontis my exit plan. His family. His money. His connections.” Her eyes flick down, then back up—hard, bright. “He is going to get me out. Not just away from them. Fromeverything.”
She waits a beat, lets it sink in. “You think I wanted him for love?” A small, humourless smile. “He has a council seat waiting. Influence. A bloodline no one questions. I’m going to rule the Air Realm, not survive it.” Her tone sharpens. “Our parents have already agreed to the arrangement. It was all set. The only issue isyou.” She’s close now. Close enough that I can see the fine tension at the corners of her mouth. “I’m not letting my sister die because of you.”
My limbs are shaking so hard it’s a miracle I’m still talking. Threads hiss across my skin—angry, raw, begging to be let go. She’s close now. I can’t hold it down much longer, just one more step.
I shake my head, throat burning, air thinning with every second. Buy more time. Find an opening. “It’s fake. You know that, you can have him?—”
“Oh, it’s not fake.” Her voice drops to a blade. “Stop fucking lying to yourself. I saw the way he looked at you in the courtyard that first day.” Her lip curls. “Like some kind of long-lost love.”
Then she shifts forward—my chance.
I shove myself up off the ground, a hard flare of pain cutting through the effort.But I grit my teeth, hold my breath as magic blazes up—violent, feral, blinding. Flooding my limbs, too much, too fast, like my veins are ripping open with power.
But no time to steady. No time to breathe.
Arms up and out wide, I push. As much as I can, every last Thread I can spare, raw and reckless—pulling air, water,anything, then slamming it straight at her.
My vision blurs as light detonates across the mat, the floor scorches black beneath her boots.
Beth vanishes in the blast.
The sound comes second, a heavythumpas something hits the floor.
I can’t hold it, my arms drop, knees give, and my vision tunnels, edges going black. I hit the mat hard, palms tearing open, lungs clawing for air.
I don’t see her fall.
