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“Point.”
A wink of satisfaction sparked inside my chest, and Kelvin yelled. It was a deranged sound, coated with mirth as he snapped his teeth. He enjoyed this. A predator in its natural habitat, enjoying every bit of the kill.
But the excitement clouded my judgment, and I became the prey. Too distracted to notice his advance.
He gripped me by the collar and threw me to the ground—the air fleeing from my lungs. Kelvin flung his sword, and I rolled to the side, barely missing his assault. I didn’t breathe as he slammed it down again and again until he made contact—the wooden tip striking my back.
I screamed out in agony.
“Point.”
He raised his sword again, but I staggered to my feet, pushing through the throbbing in my spine, and narrowly blocked his attack. The vein in my neck strained as I clung to the last bit of spite that remained, my arms bowing under the pressure. It couldn’t let him win. No, not yet. We’d only just started, and I refused to go down that easily.
Kelvin’s hair dripped with sweat as he fought to overpower me, his jaw clenched so tight he’d likely crack a molar.
I wanted to prove to the court, to the other competitors, that I was a worthy opponent. That I could hold my own. That, although I wasn’t the strongest or most skilled, I still had plenty of fight in me. That they, too, would struggle to get rid of me.
Pure defiance pulsed through my bones, and I kneed him between the legs, putting every ounce of strength I had left in it.
He collapsed on top of me with a howl—our swords crashing onto the ground beside us—and he wrapped his bloodied fingers around my neck.
I gasped for air, digging my nails into his face, his shoulders, his wrists—anything I could get my hands on to get away. To breathe. His grip only tightened as he restrained me, pinning my legs to the ground with his own.
Veins surged beneath my skin, visibly bulging as a paleness crept over my face, drained of its usual color. A wave of lightheadedness swept over me. Each pulse of my heartbeat became a discordant beat, an irregular and ever-slowing rhythm of defeat.
I didn’t stand a chance like this. If only I could get up, I could take him on. Fight.
Panic tore through my flesh as the corners of my vision grew dark.
He was going to kill me. Forget about the trials, this was it—my fate was sealed. Only the sound of my choked breaths filled the deafening silence while the fae court sat at the edge of their seats. Just as my arms dropped to the ground and my body went limp, Kelvin released me, leaving me listless on the mat as he leaped for his sword.
I gasped for air and rolled onto my side, crawling to reach mine in a wretched attempt, but I was too slow.
Too weak.
“You didn’t think you’d win that easily, did you?” Kelvin twirled the wooden sword between his fingers and reared back, connecting his foot to the side of my skull.
Eight
My eyelids fluttered open to find the king’s courtier standing over me, his bald head gleaming under the candlelight. He nudged my shoulder. “Can you hear me?”
I groaned in response.
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
Several tiny, blurry fingers came into view, and I blinked. “Four,” I guessed.
“Close enough.”
He extended a hand to help me up, and my vision doubled. I rested my hands on my knees before I hobbled back to my spot on the wall with the other competitors.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Breana whispered, and I could hardly hear her over the high-pitched ringing in my ears. “Skulls aren’t supposed to crack like that.”
I rubbed the sore spot on my head and stretched my jaw—tact wasn’t her strong suit. “Yeah, just peachy.”
Of course, I wasn’t good.
I was embarrassed.
