Remek’s lip twitched beneath his bushy mustache. “Ego, huh? And how’syourego? I heard you were discharged from the Guard.”
To his credit, Killian didn’t even flinch. “It’s great, actually. I’ve seen more action in the past three months than in all of my time in the Guard.”
“Action,” Remek grunted as his eyes slid to Elyse. “Is that what you call this pretty thing here?”
“Careful, Remek,” Killian growled.
But Remek only laughed. “Why don’t you come down to the arena and fight with the big boys? She can be the prize,” he taunted with a jerk of his chin toward Elyse.
It was Killian’s turn to laugh. “I’m on a job, Remek. But I’ll tell you what. Come down to Sevhella after all this, and if you can beat Elyse here, I’ll give you all my gold. But if you can’t best her in combat, you have to apologize to her. On your knees. Begging for her forgiveness.”
He gazed up at Remek, his eyes conveying how serious his invitation was. Elyse lifted her hand and gave a cute little wave with her fingers.
Remek grunted again. “You’ve gone loony.” He started to turn, then stopped and added, “Guard’s better off without you.”
Killian’s nostrils flared as he watched Remek march away.
“It’s not true,” Elyse remarked once Remek had disappeared down one of the tunnels where the contestants waited. “The Guard isn’t better off without you. They need you here today.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Killian answered. He took a deep breath and cleared away any visible signs of agitation. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“Did he really snap your arm like a twig?” she asked, waving off his apology.
Killian snorted. “Not even remotely. He did knock the joint out of socket though.”
Elyse hummed in consideration and turned her attention to the arena floor, where the first battle was underway.
When it was Remek’s turn to fight, the crowd roared with approval. He was clearly the favorite, and Elyse could see why. His technique wasn’t perfect, but it was explosive, thrilling thespectators as he swung his sword with deadly power. He was fast despite his size, and more clever than he seemed from his brutish remarks.
“You could beat him,” Elyse mused to Killian.
A quiet scoff left Killian’s lips. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I mean it,” she quickly defended. “You might have lost to him years ago, but now, with your resourcefulness and speed, there’s no world in which he’s the victor.”
“You’ve gone soft on me,” Killian teased.
“I’ve always spoken my mind. This time it happens to be in your favor,” she pointed out. Killian had no retort, but the edges of his lips turned up slightly.
Eventually, Remek was crowned the winner of the tournament of swords, and the Games moved on to the final event: the joust. Elyse began to shift in her seat as the first round of competitors were announced.
Maybe they had been wrong about Lazarus. It would be a blessing—no worry of civilian deaths today. But she felt hollow with the fear that they had lost their one shot at taking him down. All she could do was wait and watch, and trust that things were going exactly as they were meant to.
On each end of the arena, two riders mounted their steeds and gripped their lances. They lifted them in salute to one another, and the announcer waved a green flag, urging them to begin. The whole stadium seemed to shake as the horses barreled toward one another, and the crowd cheered them on with unrelenting excitement.
Elyse heard it before she saw it. The boom of air expanding too fast, and the crack of splintering wood. Shrapnel and dusterupted across the arena floor as the competitor’s tunnel across the stadium ripped apart.
Both horses reared and whinnied at the explosion. One of the riders managed to stay on his horse, but the other was bucked off, limbs flailing as he flew backward and hit the ground hard. His horse was still frantic, skittering this way and that, unsure where to flee. It stepped backward, and Elyse’s stomach clenched. She lifted her hands to do something—a stunning spell perhaps?—but her instincts had kicked in too late. She swore she could hear the mortifying crunch of shattered ribs as the horse’s hooves stomped on the rider’s torso.
The rider screamed, frightening the horse even more. It finally gave up and sprinted away, leaving its master to bleed into the dirt.
Yet that wasn’t the most harrowing thing on the arena floor. Because across the way, a silhouette was emerging from the remnants of the blown-away tunnel. A silhouette that sent a shiver through Elyse.
She glanced sideways at Killian. His shoulders were rolled back, his chin high as he assessed the threat. He gripped the hilt of the Blade of Hanael.
Elyse’s gaze returned to the demon below. Her father. The entity that had given her life only to manipulate her into becoming a thief and a killer.
Lazarus had come at last. It was time for him to pay.
