“You want a fight?” Ronan asks, his voice weak but unwavering.
“Here it is.”
Chapter Forty-Two
“Ronan!”
I rush to his side. He’s alive.
He’s alive.
He’s alive, and he’s an idiot. There’s no way he can fight her in this state. He’s barely able to stand.
Adria laughs and laughs. I want to rip her tongue right out of her mouth. “How moronically noble. Sure. Let’s go.”
“Help them,” I tell him. His eyes are still glazed from the poison. “You can heal them. Help Quinn. Help Stella. Help Larus. Let me fight for you.”
“Your arm,” he says, pressing his fingertips to it.
Sweet, wonderful relief. The throbbing ache of Adria’s burn is gone in an instant.
At least whatever she poisoned him with didn’t affect his magic.
“Quinn,” he says weakly. I protect him from Adria’s fire as he stumbles over to her. I don’t think he’ll be able to help her—he couldn’t heal me from poison. And I don’t think he can help Stella, judging by the way she fell. But at least he can try.
At least he can help Larus.
“A fair fight?” I ask Adria as I face her. I take my guard, my body turned to the side as it should be for this weapon.
This is my real blade. Its edges are deadly sharp. It’s not made for sport. I’m not here to score the most points.
I’m here to kill.
Adria, the greatest sword fighter in Selara, the Champion of Sai, nods her head and raises her sword at me. “A fair fight.”
I remember what Ronan told me. Fighting to the death is different from fighting for sport. In a fight for sport, you take chances. You make mistakes to learn how your opponent moves. You find their weaknesses through trial and error, hopefully before they find yours.
But in a fight to the death, there is no room for error. One wrong move means your death. You can’t leave yourself unguarded, even for a second. You can’t hesitate. You can’t let an opportunity pass you by.
Most duels last mere seconds. Few go longer than two, maybe three, exchanges.
One of us will die today.
One of us will be dead, seconds from now.
I can’t—I won’t—let it be me.
Adria makes the first move, a quick lunge forward, testing my defenses.
Is that hesitation I see? Could it be that there’s a part of her, somewhere deep down, that doesn’t really want to do this?
“Say goodbye to your lover,” she taunts. “It’s your last chance.”
Ronan has quietly moved away from Quinn to Larus. My heart aches for Quinn, but maybe there’s hope for Larus. Maybe if he gets there in time…
Adria takes advantage of my distraction to strike. I parry her just in time, binding our blades. I push forward until I’m closeenough to kick her. She grabs at my hair with her free hand, and both of us lose control of our points.
I fling myself out of her grasp, tearing a chunk of hair from the back of my head. She stumbles and then regains her balance in time to try another thrust at me, but she just grazes my arm.
