The Speaker continued. “Fallé di Azura is an ancient rite, existing since the days after Queen Azura’s murder, when Calla challenged her uncle Zagan for the throne. When Calla emerged victorious and became the first duchissa, she won the right of succession not only for herself, but for all female descendants of her bloodline. With hervictory, the gods—Zagan’s brothers and sisters—sacrificed their mortal shells to banish the devil beyond Azura’s Arch, where our Queen vanquished him to the depths of hell. Then, the gods dueled with blades of light and shadow. Now, we mortals carry on the tradition with blades of fire and steel.”
Resting her wooden staff against the railing, the Speaker spread her arms wide, as if summoning power from the skies.
“We call on the goddess’s judgment!” she cried, thrusting her arms into the air. A violet glow rose off her robes. “We call on the goddess to test their faith!”
Zane pressed his lips together. So theatrical. The violet lights turned off, the Speaker’s body crumpled, and she sagged against her staff. Kalie tried to shift towards her, but the legionnaires surrounding her held her back.
His jaw clenched, and as he met Mira’s eyes, he jerked his head towards Kalie.
Mira nodded.
She would take care of Kalie, if it came to that. Which it would.
The Speaker’s hoarse voices boomed: “Champions, please shake hands.”
Zane trudged towards Hewlett’s nephew. His swollen hand was numbed with okul salve, but there was no way it could take the weight of the sword, so he offered it to Hewlett instead. His pale hand clenched around Zane’s, crushing the snapped bones. Zane breathed deeply to fight the pain, and finally they separated, pacing to their respective sides of the platform.
“Noble warriors, we wish you strength in faith and deed. Whatever happens now is in the goddess’s hands. May Azura bless you.”
Zane swallowed rapidly. The way she said it sounded so final. The end. His grip on the sword was clammy, but he couldn’t shift it to his other hand to wipe the sweat away. He dropped into guard, raising his eyes for one last look at Kalie.
Her lips moved, forming words he couldn’t hear.
Someone shouted.
A blade hummed as it whipped through the air.
Zane threw himself out of the way, whirled around, and held his sword aloft, gasping for air. Stupid. He couldn’t afford distractions.
They circled each other. Hewlett jabbed his blade at Zane. He batted it aside, spinning and parrying as Hewlett struck again. Their swords danced between them in a furious exchange of blows. Sweat trickled down Zane’s forehead. His bones ached and his wounds burned. Clenching his teeth, he took up a defensive stance.
He had to do this. For Kalie.
Hewlett slashed.Too slow.The blade ripped a gash in Zane’s left arm, leaving a stinging trail. He grunted. Blood dripped down his skin.
Advancing. Advancing.Stumbling back, panting, Zane glanced over his shoulder. He was only a few steps from the unguarded ledge.
Slashing.Hewlett’s sword swung towards his chest.
Zane dove out of the way. Not fast enough. The blade sliced through his shirt and deep into his stomach.
Groaning, Zane landed in a heap on the cold stone. The impact pulsed through his burning wounds, and as he rolled to his feet, every fiber of his body burned.
The blow came from above. He brought up his sword to parry, but Hewlett’s blade swept towards his knees. A feint.Shit.
He didn’t block in time. The gash cut to the bone, and Zane collapsed. Tears burned his eyes.
As a kick sent his sword flying, Hewlett’s blade crashed down.
Move.Twisting out of the way, he hooked his leg around the back of Hewlett’s knees and tugged. Hewlett fell; they struggled. Zane pinned his arm down, knocking the sword out of his hand.
Pain.A fist collided with his punctured abdomen. His muscles spasmed, and black spots erupted in his vision. He gasped. A second punch struck his face, knocking his head back. Something snapped with a sickening crunch, and blood dripped into his eyes.
Shoving him aside, Hewlett lunged for his sword.
Zane dove for his.
He blocked the blade, but the force of the blow hurled him into the ground. Hewlett stomped on his sword hand. As bones cracked,Zane screamed. A heavy boot stomped on his broken ribs, and blinding, white-hot agony ripped through him.
