“Is that so?”
“Solveig, you know me. I would never hurt you!” he exclaimed.
She narrowed her eyes, gripping his hand more forcefully. “Someone with access to my rooms put a venomous snake in there. I cannot trust anyone.”
“Vali is not who you think,” he murmured as they assumed their fighting positions.
“Funny, he said the same thing about you.”
The horn sounded to begin the match, and Solveig dodged Steffen’s initial swing. She snapped her jaw shut as she fought through the pain in her leg.
“You shouldn’t have released his magic,” Steffen censured. “He’s too power hungry.”
“He doesn’t have access to all of it. I suppose you’re going to ask me to loosen your binds as well?”
“No, Solveig, I’m not.” He dodged another of her advances.
She forced him to back up until he was on the edge of the stage. “Why not?”
“To show you that I can keep up with you even without magic, so you have no reason to not believe me.”
The still fresh wound of the Southern Wilds throbbed in her chest. “Plenty of people have betrayed me without their magic. What makes you the exception?”
Their fight grew more rigorous, effectively ending their conversation. Steffen managed to wrestle her to the ground, careful of her wounded leg. He held her down, forcing her to use a blast of her magic to get him off.
“Cheater,” he said with a smile.
“Hey, I’ve got to use what I’ve got. And you should too.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re not using my injury to your advantage. You could’ve easily incapacitated me, but you stayed away from my leg.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But you should want to win,” Solveig said as she dodged to the left, putting too much weight on her leg.
A true king made sacrifices.
She winced, and to his credit, Steffen looked apologetic as he kicked her wounded leg out from underneath her. She cried out in pain as she fell to the floor.
Steffen was on her in an instant, his hands gripping her wrists. She used her good leg to hook around his knee, rolling them so he was beneath her.
Conalle and Gerrie cheered her on, calling Steffen names and booing him. The Elven prince made use of her injury and untangled himself from the weak hold of her legs. Solveig swung her hands around as Steffen got to his feet.
She couldn’t stay on her knees, and sweat began to bead, rolling down her back. He went to kick her again, but when she twirled to avoid it, she rolled onto her back leg.
Pain shot up the entire length of her body. The energy she had to expend to keep Westley out of her head, to block this from him, made the pain more unbearable, drained as she was. She couldn’t wrap her magic around it. The poison burned every time she tried.
Her chest heaved as she fell onto her back, spent.
Steffen stood over her, her sword in his hand, pointed at her throat.
He’d won.
Westleyraisedhishands.“Latham, what are you doing here?” he tried to ask calmly.
The water called to him, willing him to react. He stifled the urge, knowing it would only make the situation worse. That’s likely what this scum wanted.
