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So, challenge him, she did.
Calandra beat him out with five seconds to spare, wiggling her fingers to say goodbye as he stomped off the floor. I relished every second of his brooding.
A light snicker traveled around the audience when my name was called. Their jeers had become more and more distant, inconvenient, background noise.
I took a deep breath as I made my way over to the rope, touching knuckles with Calandra before we took our stance.
She was halfway up the rope seconds after the bell rang, but I wasn’t far behind. Climbing trees and swinging on branches proved to come in handy in this test, but I didn’t care if I won. Too focused on redeeming myself, I didn’t notice I’d gotten ahead of Calandra, let alone grabbed the flag a second before she reached her hand up.
Although she bit back her disappointment, she still congratulated me.
I won the next round against Sage as well, but my streak ended with Jeston when my hand slipped, and I fell two feet before I could recover, giving him enough time to take the lead.
I felt gutted. Embarrassed. But I kept my chin held high despite the laughter from both my human peers and the fae court. No one would volunteer to mentor me at this rate. I’d need to step it up if I wanted them to take me seriously.
My hands fisted at my side as they trembled with nerves. Getting them under control was all I could think about, but nothing was working. I didn’t perform well under pressure, let alone with an audience.
In frustration, I smacked the wall we all returned to after completing each assessment.
Breana gave me a weak smile, and I pressed the back of my head into the cool stone wall.
“Irving Munoz, to the sparring mat, please.”
Wiping his brow, Irving picked up a wooden sword, weighing it in his grip as he took his place on the mat. He was nervous, scared, and I knew once Kelvin got a whiff, it was over. Little did any of us know, it was over long before we stepped foot in that room.
“The first match will be between Irving Munoz and Kelvin Amhurst,” the courtier announced, “Each hit is one point. We shall declare the first player to reach five points the winner.”
Kelvin wore a cocky grin as he swaggered to the center of the ring with shameless confidence—his masculine ego on display for everyone to see.
The bell sounded, and Kelvin wasted no time. He thrust his sword forward, missing Irving by a hair as he ducked for cover. Kelvin tried to come for his blindside, but Irving expected it and kicked his feet out from underneath him.
Kelvin jumped back up and swung, but Irving was faster and smacked the wooden sword into his side first.
“Point.”
Kelvin rolled his shoulders, readying himself for the second match. Moments later, the bell sounded, and this time it was Irving who lurched forward, catching Kelvin off guard.
He stumbled back before he regained his footing and sidestepped Irving’s attack. “That’s all you got pussy?”
Irving’s lip curled up his teeth as he launched forward, faking him out before he spun around and connected his sword to Kelvin’s thigh. “I’d be careful what you ask for, bud. You’re zero for two.” He wiped his brow.
Kelvin stepped to him, their noses touching before he shoved him. “Keep talking, and I’ll have you eating your teeth.”
Irving shoved him back, their faces growing feral, and the bell sounded once again. Kelvin didn’t hold back this time. He swung and stabbed and sliced the air, strong-arming Irving into defense as he bulldozed forward, forcing him off the mat.
Kelvin didn’t allow him time to reposition. As soon as Irving settled, he aimed at his head.
He blocked his attempt, but it left him wide open, and Kelvin used it to his advantage. With one swift kick to his gut, Irving hunched over, and Kelvin cracked the sword against his ankle.
Irving fell with a thud, letting out a cry as he clutched his ankle.
“Point.”
The fae crowd went wild, demanding more—their insatiable hunger almost brought me to my knees.
“What’s wrong, pussy? You can’t get up?” Kelvin mocked, circling Irving like a vulture. “Not talking such a big game anymore, huh? Get up.” He shoved the toe of his boot into his ribs.
Irving spat at him as he stood and limped into position, but the second the bell sounded, Kelvin kicked the inside of his knee, dropping Irving to the ground.
