Clashing steel met and danced in the bloody song of battle.
Myla was smart; she dodged more attacks than she bothered to match. A strategy similar to Jace’s. Only he’d relied on aggression and strength to exhaust me. Myla used patience and restraint.
I knew which one was more dangerous. Warning bells chimed deep inside. If I didn’t do something soon, she’d win. That wasn’t an option.
I changed strategy, attacking with full force. Myla adjusted easily. Frustration urged me to kick out, hitting her gut. A sharp gasp was my cue. I’d winded her. I struck with my sword, aiming for her chest.
A hit.
Don’t stop.
I’d barely moved the sword from her chest before push-kicking into her knee. She stumbled. I performed a thrust straight to her shoulder blade, stopping short of causing real harm.
Two hits.
Myla didn’t panic, annoyingly. She recovered quickly enough that my move for her wing failed. Instead, she lashed out with her sword, forcing me to engage and parry.
Get her off balance again.
Our swords met, angled away from our bodies. I took a risk and crashed into her side, steel edges grating as my blade scraped along hers. She hardly moved; I’d miscalculated.
Before she could push back or bear down, I did the stupidest thing imaginable; I freed one hand from my sword.
In that single heartbeat where she failed to crush my resistance, my hand grabbed her shoulder. My leg snapped between hers and performed a scissor lock. We tumbled to the ground on our backs. If it were a real battle, we’d both have been dead; we raised our swords to land blows at the same time. My blade against her ribs, Myla’s sword at my throat.
Victory.
“Myla Peron, you’re out!” Hilda called.
We stared at each other, panting slightly. Myla’s whiskey-colored eyes met mine. There was no surprise or anger. More like weary resignation. Her sword left my throat, and she flipped up to standing in a graceful maneuver. Myla’s ebony skin gleamed with sweat as she extended a hand. I clasped it, grateful, and pulled myself up. We stayed, staring at each other for a moment. Then, she inclined her head. A gesture of respect, maybe. The moment gone, she broke contact and left for the ring’s edge to join Lucian.
A smile tugged at my lips at the sight of the male. I sheathed my blade and walked to ringside, to the winner’s area. Cai was the only one there. I ran and caught him in a fierce hug. “We did it,” I whispered.
“Of course,” he said, his breath tickling my ear.
I drew back and searched the crowd for Wilder’s face.
I stared and stared. The instructors had gone.
A twinge of unease sparked bright. But Liora, Frazer, and Adrianna were still fighting for their places, so I twisted back around to watch the battles unfold.
Adrianna and Frazer were struggling. Liora, on the other hand …
“Emile Gretson, you’re out!”
Cai muttered something that I thought might be, “Thank the sisters,” as Liora sprinted over. We collided in a three-way hug, our heads touching. I whispered over to Cai, “Can you shield our conversation?”
His eyes flared in surprise, but he nodded a fraction. A warm pulse shuddered through me. We pulled free from each other and Liora spoke. “What’s wrong?”
“The instructors have gone. Wilder too.”
“You think something’s happened?” Cai asked in a hushed voice.
I deferred to Liora. “Your senses are sharper than most—what d’you think?”
Brow crinkled, she did a sweep of the arena. “Wilder wouldn’t leave without good reason.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
My hand drifted to the necklace. A nervous habit.
Liora linked arms with me. “We’ll find him.”
Cai mumbled in agreement. I plastered a watery smile on my face and turned my attention back to the pit.
Frazer was engrossed in holding off his opponent’s bulk, while Adrianna danced around Cole, baiting the beast into snapping his jaws.
A good strategy; however, I groaned aloud when it backfired. Predicting a feint, Cole clipped her arm. A hit in his favor. Adrianna’s wings splayed wide in shock and she stumbled—actually stumbled backward.
My heart jumped. Cai took a step toward her, as if he couldn’t stop himself. “What’s wrong with her? Why does she look like that?”
Liora released me to place a calming hand on his arm, stopping him, reminding him where we were. “She probably just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
“Icarus Bale, you’re out!”
I was the first to recognize Frazer’s win. His familiar loping stride kicked the air from my lungs. I greeted him with a rattling sigh and a wan smile. He took his place at my side.
“Four down,” Cai muttered, his eyes fixed on Adrianna.
“Cai cast the sound bubble,” I explained to Frazer in a breath.
Frazer’s head bowed, angling toward me. Why?
“I noticed the instructors had left, and I needed to tell the others.”
Alarm marked him in quick, tiny movements—darting eyes and flaring nostrils. He masked it by rounding on me with a lofty, amused brow. “Right, and were you the first to win your bout?”
I smiled despite myself. “No. That was Cai.”
A deft nod. “You still beat your opponent before me. I’m struggling to forgive you for that.”
“You’ll find a way.”
He chuffed; a breathy bark of a laugh.
My attention shifted again, moving to Adrianna. After another nail-biting minute, she landed a hit as she bludgeoned Cole in the ribs.
In retaliation, he punched Adrianna in the tit. Winded, hand clutching her chest, she staggered back. Then Cole brought the full force of his broadsword down on one of her slightly splayed wings.
Adrianna dodged but wasn’t quick enough to avoid contact. Except her wing didn’t crumple from the impact of a blunt weapon—the sword sliced clean through a section of fragile membrane. She was bleeding, spraying red over the arena’s sand.
Such a deafening silence in my head.
Cai was the first of us to sprint forward, howling. I chased after Frazer and Liora.
Hilda bolted forward, winging her way toward Adrianna as she fell to her knees and Cole raised his sword up in a deathblow. This had suddenly become a very public execution.
Cai threw his inked hand out, shouting something.
Cole dropped his blade, his hands going to his chest, seeking to stem the flow of the blood that spurted forth. His mouth stretched in a silent scream and he collapsed sideways, spread out on the sand. Motionless. Dead.
Hilda slowed for a fraction too long. That was when a spear skewered her through the gut. An impossible throw seemingly from across the arena.
I stumbled; the world stilled as Frazer doubled back and lifted me into his arms.
Cai reached Adrianna first. She was conscious and struggling to stand. Cai grasped her arm, pulled it around his shoulders and ran, leading the way.
Screams blasted my eardrums as the noises that had dulled in those explosive moments poured in. Fellow recruits and people in the stands were fleeing, pushing each other out of the way.
A second later, Frazer bellowed, “Cai! Arrows!”
Whistling sounds made me close my eyes and brace for impact. Only it never came. I dared a look. Close to the portcullis, Adrianna was being half-dragged, half-carried into the annex room beyond by Liora, while Cai faced us with both palms outstretched. I looked over Frazer’s shoulder in time to see three arrows hovering in mid-air; they were swept aside by a magical wind.
Frazer reached Cai and shouted, “Move!”
My mind lagged, taking in Cai’s drawn face, his pale lips, and glassy eyes. Had he used too much power? But his movements were steady as he twisted and followed.
As we ran into the stone room, I heard someone cry, “Don’t!”
Eyes blinking, adjusting to the darkness, I captured shadowed fragments.
Jace was lying in wait with a strung bow, an arrow pointed at my chest, marking me for death.
Roaring, “Bitch,” he let the fletching fly.
Frazer spun, covering his body with mine.
No, no, no, no, no.