“Let’s end this here and now,” I pleaded. “You’ve spent too many years with the scribes, away from battle. You cannot beat me. Withdraw your challenge and live for your family.”
“If I must die to embolden others to take the crown, then I do so gladly. For my family,” he roared, springing to his feet and swinging his hammer again, wild and high.
I whooshed behind him. A swift stab to the back of the knee sent him crashing down. I swooped closer and removed his head.
With hot tears streaming down my cheeks, I plunged my hand into his chest cavity and ripped out his heart. The final step to killing a berserker for good. The organ’s glow faded to nothing. The fight wasn’t over until an opponent withdrew or died.
“Our queen has won,” Bauer called, and cheers rang out.
But as soon as those cheers faded, a familiar voice sounded. “I challenge you to the death, Queen Olyssa.”
A woman jumped from the stands to land in the arena. As Franz had predicted, he had emboldened others. This challenger was Marlene, who once had a higher position under my father’s rule. Commander Hoffmann demoted her for sabotaging fellow soldiers.
Lean as a whipcord and twice as deadly, she launched herself midair with a grace she’d learned after centuries of battlefield mastery. She wielded twin curved daggers in a blur of motion, every angle designed either to bleed me out or bait me into a fatal parry. Flames licked her irises, a sign she neared full berserkerage.
“No offense, Lys, but the Drachenveils have brought us nothing but trouble. It’s time for blood that doesn’t burn everything it touches to rule. New blood.”
We clashed, steel on steel, footwork razor-tight. Her skill surpassed Franz’s by far, her style fluid and serpentine. She landed a cut across my cheek and gouged my shoulder, but they didn’t land by accident. I let her do it, seeing her next step before she made it. She thought she had me, that I would launch into the air to avoid acquiring another wound.
My sword flashed down as I went low, and in one clean stroke, her ankle split—bone, sinew, boot. Down she fell with a cry that echoed across the coliseum. She attempted to crawl away. Showing no mercy, because I couldn’t, I ended her fight with a swift beheading and the removal of her heart.
What must Taron think of me? What did I think of myself?
Another challenge issued from a soldier named Henry I wasn’t sure I’d ever spoken with.
I shifted my stance and let him close in. Blood leaked through my lashes, and I blinked it away as best I could, glancing up. Taron clenched the dais railing, apprehension etching his face. No hatred, no shock, no revulsion, just concern.
And that’s when the whip hit. A crack like lightning. The tip lashed across the wound on my face, salt to a flame. Pain tore through me, so sharp it drove me to my knees, vision blurring. Gasps surged through the crowd.
Henry came in fast, sword raised. My dragon unleashed a primal scream as I surged upright, parrying while temporarily blinded, then spinning to deflect a second blow from the side. He wasn’t playing. He wanted to kill me, ja, but first he intended to disarm me.
I purposely slowed, letting the whip wrap around my waist. Allowing the warrior to pull me close. Let him believe I was stunned. Then I flared my claws, dragon-forged, razor-sharp, and tore open his throat. A crimson arc sprayed across the arena as he crumpled. After that, mercy wasn’t an option.
A scream. A fall. Off with his head, out with his heart. Silence.
My breath released hard and fast, but my stance never wavered. Then the trumpet blared. Once. Twice. Thrice.
Victory belonged to me. “Anyone else?” I bellowed. I pushed past a heavy weight of regret and lifted my bloody hands to the morning sky. Smoke curled around me, seeping from my pores as if the dragon breathed fire in my veins.
Silence wrapped the arena as every eye remained fixed on me. A silence broken only by the thudding of my heart.
This would be the perfect time for Taron to act, if any part of him still desired revenge. My gaze locked with his.From across the coliseum, he stared like he’d never seen anything more terrifying… or beautiful. But then, I could say the same about him. There, in that moment, he was everything I’d ever wanted and nothing I could have.
“Queen Olyssa has won,” Councilman Bauer announced, proud once again.
A cheer rang out from those in the stands. I blinked, startled and jarred by the sound as the strike of sword against sword still echoed in my mind. Their voices crashed over me, propping me up. Because I didn’t hear cries of war, but joy. Victory. My people were sharing this moment with me, their queen.
Then, a stir erupted in the gallery. Projecting all kinds of ferocity, Taron raced down the steps. Racedtome. The crowd parted, either afraid to get in his way or curious to learn what the queen’s supposed firebrand would do. His gaze remained locked on me, blazing. When he reached the bottom of the stands, he hopped over the railing, entering the arena. I stood rooted, breath catching.
He stopped a mere whisper away from me. Close enough that I felt the heat radiating from his skin and saw the honey in his irises melt.
My world narrowed to one man and one impossible bond. I tipped up my chin, refusing to be the first to break.
The crowd quieted, every eye upon us, I was sure. I was too overwhelmed by emotion to care about an audience for this moment with Taron.
“You shouldn’t be down here,” I said, my voice husky from smoke and strain. “Unless you wish to fight me.”
“Not that.” His stare raked over me. My bloodstained clothing, my heaving chest, my wild, half-braided hair. “Never that again.”
