“Sloppy,” he murmured as he leaned into me.
Then the earth moved.
A sickening tremor tore up from beneath us, like a vein had burst under the ground. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from his boots, shoving gravel and broken stone into the air. The pulse hit like a battering ram.
I staggered, boots sliding, but Riven was already on me.
His parrying dagger slashed into my thigh. A stab, puncturing deep above the knee. My vision sparked white. His longswordplummeted, ashimmering arc of death. My blade washeavedup to meet it, both handsbraced, but thecataclysmic clashslammed me to my knees. Ablinding showerof sparks erupted.
He ripped my sword from my hands, and I hit the ground hard. The wind fled my lungs. Dirt and grit coated my tongue. I coughed blood into the dirt.
He stood over me. His eyes burned into me with an icy fire.
He held no expression, just calculating, disassembling a broken tool as if determining where it had failed.
“Still soft where it counts.”
“You talk too much,” I spat.
“Better than sulking like a dog under that girl’s skirts.” His grin widened, ugly now. “She looks at you like you’re her answer. That must be exhausting.”
Then Alaric roared behind him, sword raised, Bran a blur of teeth and fury at his side. The prince’s strike was precise, a diagonal meant to split the bastard from collarbone to hip.
Riven spun. He should’ve been too slow.
But the ground shuddered under him. A jag of stone thrust upward from the floor like a conjured step, shifting his footing just enough to slip past the blade. The air cracked as steel cut through space.
Alaric snarled, coming in again with a flurry—high, low, a vicious backhand slice. Bran darted in tandem, snapping at Riven’s legs. And for a heartbeat, they drove him back.
Riven’s hand flexed against his hilt, and the earth itself answered. A ridge erupted under Bran’s paws, throwing the war hound sideways into a cracked pillar with a yelp and a bone-shaking thud. The animal rolled, staggered, then relaunched itself, blood at its muzzle.
Alaric pressed harder, forcing Riven to parry three quick strikes in succession. The ring of steel on steel was deafening, sparks leaping between them. But Riven’s stance never broke. Another sharp tremor rippled underfoot, forcing Alaric’s knee to buckle just enough for Riven’s sword to kiss his chest. A shallow slice, but deep enough to draw a crimson bloom across his tunic.
I shook my head clear, the ringing in my ears fading as I pushed to my feet. My legs screamed at me, but I forced them to move. The sight of Bran snapping again at Riven’s calf, buying Alaric that sliver of breathing room, was enough to shove me back into the fray.
“Move!” I barked, stepping in as Alaric pivoted away, blood running from his chest. My sword came up high, teeth gritted, and I drove at Riven with everything I had left.
I stepped in, driving Riven back with a vicious overhand swing. The clang shook up my arms, but I didn’t relent—strike, pivot, slash for his ribs. He caught the blade on his crossguard, twisting to rip it sideways, and I slammed my shoulder into him, forcing him a step toward the rubble.
His eyes flickered with calculation.
He lashed out with a low kick. I caught it on my thigh, and I responded with a powerful vertical chop, nearly breaking through his guard. But then his heel struck the stone beneath us. The ground answered to him instantly—cracking, heaving, throwing my stance wide open.
He surged into the gap like water through a breach. Steel rang against mine in a furious barrage, the last blow knocking my sword low just long enough for his elbow to drive into my jaw. Stars burst across my vision.
I staggered, teeth gritted, swinging up again, but he was already inside my guard. His blade punched into my ribs; Itwisted, barely catching it with the flat of mine. The impact rattled my bones. Then, the stone under my back foot shifted, a slick rise just big enough to unbalance me, and Riven’s shoulder slammed into my chest like a battering ram.
The air ripped from my lungs as I hit the ground hard, the weight bearing down briefly before he pushed off.
I rolled, hand clawing toward my sword, which lay only inches away.
Riven stepped on it. He didn’t even glance at me. He knew.
A brutal kick slammed into my ribs, the same side he’d hit before. Something cracked. I folded, the dirt rushing up to meet me again. My back arched, mouth open in a soundless gasp, pain flooding every corner of my vision. White. Sharp. Endless.
Above me, Riven exhaled softly, like a child bored with his toys.
He raised his blade.
