I launch immediately, air brushing against my cheeks as I charge.
He barrels toward me; bulky muscles tensed to spring.
I get my strength from him. I only hope it’s enough.
We collide in the middle of the square, blades clashing with enough force to rattle my entire arm. I hold him at bay and show him the full extent of the emotions he hates so much. Rage, pain, disgust, and resolve—I rub his face in them, making no effort to hide.
Metal glints near the ground, and I jump back a second before his boot collides with my gut—a boot with a knife protruding from the toe. It’s not expressly against the rules, but there’s nothing honorable about it.
“Nice try.” I deflect his blade, forcing it toward the ground and creating a tiny window to slip past his guard. I use it to slap himacross the face. “That’s for being too rash,” I say. “A realthatshanever shows their hand.”
A dark shadow crosses his face. I soak it up like sunlight after a long winter.
I want him mad. I want him controlled by his anger until he loses sight of everything else. And once he’s as overcome by emotion as he always accused me of being, I’ll finish him.
“Still immature,” he barks, hacking his blade toward my leg. I block, smelling his sweat as the movement brings our faces close. “I should have killed you when I saw those cursed wings,” he whispers so the crowd won’t hear, and I drive him back with a boot to the gut.
He stumbles three steps before managing to right himself. I’ve surprised him. He expected the girl who ran, but my years away have changed me. I no longer give a shit what he thinks about my wings or my emotions. They’ve done more for me than he ever has.
I’m stronger than he can imagine. Whatever it takes, I’ll win this duel.
My back heats as my wings catch fire, the flames stretching inches past the tips of each individual feather.
“She was strong, my mother,” I call out, raising my voice to be sure everyone hears me. He can whisper poison in my ear if he wants, but I’m here to end his legacy by any means necessary. “Is that why you beat her? Did it make you feel more powerful to push her around?”
He drives his sword down, aiming for my head this time.
I meet his blade with my own, sparks exploding on impact. “You killed her because it wasn’t enough to silence her anymore, was it? You knew she hated you, and you couldn’t allow anyone to live who had the courage to stand against you.”
He roars with rage, and the pressure against my arm increases.
“Silence,” he snarls. The chill of his magic slides over me, oilyand dark. A gray film coats my skin. It prods against my mind, searching for a weak point—the radiant magic visible to everyone thanks to the spelled runes bracketing the dueling ground that make all attacks visible.
The angels in the stands watch the spectacle with a combination of horror and delight. Their entertainment doesn’t matter to me. I already have what I want: their attention. Bringing my wings around, I form a cocoon of fire, melting his silence until it drips to the ground to form a noxious, bubbling puddle.
I’m flushed from the heat, but the shocked look on my father’s face is more than worth it.
I smile. “If you want to beat me, you’ll have to do better than that.”
His hisses, and the silence rune carpets his skin. Faded, gray, and blown out, it resembles a bad tattoo after years in the sun. I lift my hand and prepare to shield myself.
But instead of hurling magic at me, he aims the blast at the closest speaker.
It hits hard, devouring the device, which crackles and hisses before the sound of my father’s vow cuts off mid-sentence. Black sludge oozes from the speaker, spreading across the energy field above the courtyard until it’s infected all four corners. The vows die with a strangled, metallic wail.
Someone in the crowd screams.
I wipe sweat from my brow and hold my ground. He’s done pretending this is a fair fight, and that’s fine by me. I’m used to impossible odds.
FIFTY-ONE
Enclave Edict #231:
Magic used in defense of yourself or others is always permissible.
CIPRIAN
Hidden by my nightmare, Alistair and I weave through S’lach’s side of the spectators. Riven’s around here somewhere, but he handled his own disguise. Luca is our bait. Honestly, I don’t love that part, but he’s arguably the most durable, and Riven assured me he would kill anyone who looks at him funny.
