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No sound escaped him this time as he fell, and the instant he hit the mat, Kelvin slammed his sword into his injured ankle once more—his swollen bone a nasty shade of crimson.
I silently begged him to get up, but each time he tried, his ankle would give out.
The bell sounded, and they declared Kelvin the winner as Irving scooped himself off the ground and crawled back to the line.
My stomach twisted into a hundred knots; my hands refused to remain still at my sides.
I prepared for my name to be called.
No one, not even Aeron, had beaten Kelvin. He was merciless. Brutal. And he’d do anything to win.
Breana nudged me with her elbow. “He favors his right side,” she whispered, keeping her focus ahead, “try to stay as low as possible, too.”
I nodded and took a deep breath.
“Elowyn Rosewood.”
My gaze met the king’s and then Talon’s before locking onto Kelvin’s black soulless stare.
His eyebrow—sliced open from his match with Martell—stained the tips of his blond hair red. The predatory snarl he offered to me—coated with the blood of a jab to the mouth—made me stiffen. As maimed as he appeared, like the fae above, he was ready to kill.
I picked up the wooden sword and got into the same position I’d seen everyone else take. I’d never sparred with anyone in my entire life, not officially, anyway. Or with wooden swords. In fact, I couldn’t recall a single time I’d ever gotten into a fight—aside from punching Rhett Belmont in the nose in primary school for making fun of my large front teeth—but that didn’t count. And it wouldn’t be much use to me now.
I’d never gain the attention of a mentor at the rate I was going, especially when I had the least number of points. I’d be heading straight for the gallows if I couldn’t last more than five minutes.
My grip on the sword tightened as the bell sounded.
Kelvin lunged at me, and I startled, almost tripping over my own feet. He laughed at my expense and turned his back to me, shaking his head in disbelief at the guards. I wasn’t sure what his angle was—if he was taunting me or if he genuinely didn’t believe I’d do anything—but I knew I needed to act while I had an advantage.
He didn’t hear me sneak up on him or the sound of my sword as it flew through the air. It wasn’t until I smacked him over the head with the dull edge that I earned his attention.
A light laughter passed through the room as he whipped his head around—blind rage written on his face.
“Point.”
“You stupid bitch!” He seethed.
Sweat dripped down my back as he charged toward me, whipping his sword through the air. I lifted mine up to block it and struggled to keep him from overpowering me.
The wood creaked from the pressure.
My brow collected beads of perspiration.
He shoved me backward as he stepped away, swinging his sword at my knees.
I leaped to the side, remembering what Breana told me, and started for his right, but he twisted before I could make contact, and his sword connected with my ribs.
My knees buckled from the pain, and I screamed, curling my body into itself.
“Point.”
“Not so tough when my back’s not turned, are you, coward?”
I took a shallow breath. Coward?
I’d show him what a coward I was. Readying myself for the next round, I straightened and forced myself through the pain.
Kelvin spun and kicked out his leg, attempting to throw out my knee the same way he did Irving, but I leaped back, striking my sword on his ankle.
