Page 104 of Bitten By the Basilisk

They were permitted forearm guards, but nothing else. Before they could put them on, their seconds inspected the other’s armguards for any hidden weapons. Neither of them found anything.

“Something’s not right,” Bruno quietly said to him as he adjusted Silas’s armguard. “I didn’t like the look on Eric’s face just now.”

Indeed, Lance’s second had appeared far too amused, but Silas refused to let it unsettle and distract him.

Once he and his challenger had been made ready, they slithered toward the center and each other. A hush fell over the chamber.

Before coming within striking distance, they coiled into their respective threat displays, tails held in tense arches, heads lowered, shoulders forward and flexed, giving each of their human halves the appearance of a cobra’s hood.

Lance charged first, hissing, his tail blurring as it launched him forward. He swiped at Silas with both claws, one after the other, the first to distract and the second to maim.

Silas struck each attempt aside, then whipped his tail at Lance, disrupting his rival’s coiled stance and throwing him off balance.

The crowd around them began shouting, creating an echoing din that drowned out any particular remark.

The other male snarled as he backed up, recovering faster than Silas could take advantage.

They lunged at each other again, twisting and ducking, slashing their claws at each other, their tails wrestling to pin the other.

Lance laughed, panting, as he once again escaped before Silas could get the reach he needed. Silas looked forward to tearing that shit-eating grin off his face.

“Having fun, are you?” he gritted as they circled each other, catching their breath, timing their next move.

“Yes. I’m imagining what you’ll look like.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

His rival sprang at him rather than answer. Silas twisted away from his claws while slashing with his own and caught the outside of Lance’s arm, leaving two shallow red lines that began to weep blood.

Lance hissed as he threw his tail, intending to knock Silas to the floor, but Silas swung his upper half backward and heaved Lance’s coil aside, using his rival’s momentum to spin Lance around and expose his back.

His rival continued twisting, throwing his armored forearm behind him in a blind block that barely saved him from injury. Silas caught his swing, but Lance’s armguard protected him from Silas’s claws.

Before Silas could get a good enough angle with his other hand to slice him open, Lance completed his turn and caught Silas’s arm mid-swipe.

They wrenched and twisted, both tightly gripping the other’s limb.

“It means,” Lance said, grimacing as he strained against Silas’s strength, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize.”

“Realize what?” Silas grunted.

Lance grinned. “Why she isn’t here.”

For a split second, Silas’s grip on his rival weakened.

No, Lance had to be bluffing.

“Bullshit,” Silas spat.

“You sent her another red gown. A lacy one,” Lance hissed.

Terror tore through Silas, cold and sharp, stalling his next breath. Rage that was hotter than molten glass quickly followed.

His rival gave a low, dark laugh. “There it is.”

“If you fucking hurt her…!”

“That’s up to you. If this doesn’t end with that crown on my head and that signet ring on my hand, she’ll get to experience her own autopsy.”