Page 80 of Stolen Magic of the Deep

That part, at least, would be easy for me.

"But we're also completing our first set of duels. Do not forget that if you fail this lesson, you'll be taken back to Current One and retrain your skills."

Two duels run at once, the lowest ranks taking the mats first. Since Neiord fell among them, Defymin was pulled into the opening round as his opponent.

The wide training cavern branches into several dual chambers along its edges, each one shaped like a hollow egg cut into the stone. They're open only by tall archways, large enough to pass through in pairs. The ability to see into one chamber from the other isn't possible unless you leave one and swim back through the main cavern. The separation lends each fight a sense of intimacy, as if the stone walls themselves hold the tension in.

Defymin and Neiord circle each other, there is barely enough space for a handful of spectators, and my size constricts it further. The walls seem to close in, the water intense with apprehension.

Neiord wears a set of light training armor, scaled plates strapped across his torso and shoulders, enough to dull a strike but not slow his movements. Defymin, bare-chested, still displaying the ugly slice down his back from our last encounter. Though at this very moment, he moves with a grace that belies the injury. His tail slices and whips through the water as if it has a mind of its own.

Neiord clutches his double-pronged spear tight to his chest, waiting for an opening. Defymin stratagems low, his tail sweeping in a controlled arc as he brings his blade upward in the same motion. The strike carves against Neiord’s armor with a flash of sparks, and the force of it knocks him sideways. He aims to recover, thrusting his spear forward, but Defymin anticipates the move. With a fluid spin, he reverses his grip, slicing vertically toward the cavern ceiling. The blow slams into Neiord’s helm, hard enough that the thin metal splits, and his body goes limp. He crumples under the weight of the water, unconscious before he sinks to the floor.

Predictable. He's dragged off the mat without ceremony. Failure here carries consequences. The defeated are sent back to Current One for retraining, but if they get sent back a second time, that is the end. No second chances. They are returned to civilian life, stripped of the chance to fight. Some labor the lava smiths forging weapons; others get a chance to work within the castle walls.

Each pair of finlings fights with strength, endurance, and honor. Unfortunately, I don't get to watch Keil’s duel, since he is going at the same time as Aniah—and I can't miss hers. It’s remarkable to see how far she's come over the past few weeks. Her skills have sharpened beyond anyone's expectations, making me realize that doubt has no place when judging the abilities of those in this kingdom.

Nyxalene has a soft spot, Defymin has risked befriending the “human wannabe,” and Aniah, though she seemed fragile at first, more than made up for it with her speed and precision.

She moves fluidly around her opponent, Evorian, a follower of Carella who towers over her with a broad, muscular frame and a thick, armored tail that cuts through the water with every stroke. He's strong—strong enough to catch Aniah's strikes on his forearms and twist away from the cuts before they can land cleanly. Each time Aniah targets Evorian's fins, he raises an arm to shield himself away from them. As Aniah shifts toward him, he turns his body, deflecting her spear with sharp, practiced movements. Even when she manages to land a strike, her opponents strength prevents any faltering.

But Aniah is faster. She darts around, changing direction before Evorian can anticipate the next move. Every attack he attempts is met with a pivot, a deflection, or a precise cut. He swings at her, but she's already gone. He turns to follow the direction she is moving, only for her double-pronged spear to find another opening. Then, in the briefest gap between one charge and the next, Aniah closes the distance and slashes straight across the center of his face. His body jerks to a halt and for a heartbeat, he remains upright. Almost as if he hasn't realized he's been struck. Then his stability gives out. His eyes roll back, weapons slipping through his hands, and his vast frame folds below her, plummeting to the cavern floor.

Blood seeps into the water, swirling around his weakened form. Face down, his head rests on his arms. He can’t go any further. Zevrin calls the match, and her opponent is pulled out without ceremony, leaving Aniah floating and victorious. Her manner is relaxed despite the violence she just delivered mere moments ago.

If Aniah can wield such speed and precision, my chances against Carella tonight may be possible. My serpent form and physical training will have to make up for the magical abilities I have yet to control, but that’s what these past few weeks of secret late-night training sessions were for. Giving me a backup plan in case Orion’s fails.

I swallow, feeling the weight of the duel pressing on me even now. I try to steady my racing thoughts. With enough distractions filling my mind, I'm thankful that the one physical distraction who seems to follow me everywhere has matters to attend to back at the palace. I haven’t seen him since before dinner, when he left in a hurry. What for? I have no idea. Nyxalene stays at the palace while Orion trains my magical abilities, but the time I spent so close to him earlier today has only tangled my feelings for him even more so. He always manages to frustrate me, and somehow, that frustration only seems to intensify the desire lurking beneath it.

More finlings compete, and the further the battles go, more blood is spilled. My nerves shake more than they ever have. Carella is in the other chamber. Once this duel is complete, it will be our turn. A small relief; at least she hasn’t had the chance to size me up this whole time. While everyone else has fought, I’ve been observing intently, learning new ways to sidestep, dodge a strike, or vanish from an opponent’s sight, even if only for a moment.

Discovering the skill of commanding the waves that surround me is a wonderful development, but I haven’t been able to replicate it with the same intensity that hurled Orion into the basalt pillars. There’s no anger left in me, only nervousness. Maybe even petrified nervousness. I'm larger than most of my opponents, but Carella isn't small. Trying to disappear from her sight to land an attack might be impossible, and the sheer length of my tail is bound to get in the way.

I assume they paired us because Carella is the closest match to me physically, at least where strength and muscle are concerned. It makes sense, though, when one of us falls, the rest will face the “top dog” to determine the strongest. I’m not trying to be the best. I just want to survive, return to my penthouse, and hope this is all one massive nightmare.

“Final duel commencing soon. Please make your way over.” Zevrin’s voice comes from the other chamber.

Aniah and I swim together toward the archway. Some spectators drift away, but most stay, eager for blood. Whispers slip past my ears as I move through them.

“She won’t live through this.”

“Carella’s ready to destroy her.”

I force a deep breath, squeezing myself between the crowd packed along the chamber walls. The space feels even smaller now, brimming with tension. In the back corner stands Zevrin—and to my surprise, Nyxalene is at his side. She gives me a grim smile, one I can’t read. I'm unsure as to when she arrived, but I won't deny that part of me relaxes knowing she's here.

Carella waits across from the entrance, eyes locked on me. She stares upward—because even with her size, I still tower above her. My size should be making her feel intimidated, but it doesn't; if anything, it seems to strengthen her confidence.

Aniah and Defymin settle near Zevrin, while Keil is nowhere in sight. Did he win his duel? I’ll have to ask later—if I get the chance.

My focus sharpens on Carella’s stance, but a shrill scream slices through the water, snapping every head toward Nyxalene.

“The king couldn't be in attendance for tonight’s duel. That doesn't mean you have the right to disrespect his guest. Those lingering at the archway's entrance, please wait outside in the training cavern until the results are announced. Everyone else, maintain proper distance and allow the opponents room to battle. If you cannot do so, you may also depart."

Murmurs ripple through the crowd, but they quickly die under her glare. A few Neravyn drift reluctantly toward the main cavern, while the rest press themselves back against the chamber walls, leaving enough room for the fight. The tension thickens and the water pulls tight around us.

There is no horn this time to signal the match. It's triggered the moment I cross into the ring where Carella waits, armed and positioned.

I anchor my grip on my daggers, sinking into my stance, but she wastes no time. Her first strike comes with brutal precision, the blade slicing across my shoulder. Pain flares hot, but as quickly as she strikes me, the wound knits closed, my body mending itself.