Never forget the reason you left your home realm behind. Here in the Fringes, we do what we want, and we don’t apologize for it.
CELINE
I review the dueling rules with single-minded focus. If I don’t think about something other than the crushed expression on Malach’s face when he saw Gavin, I’ll gouge my sperm donor’s eyes out before it's legally allowed.
My wings are already twitching and fluttering on their own, but so far, I’ve been able to hold back the more noticeable theatrics. We’ll get our pound of flesh.
Radiant Rule of Dueling #1: Dueling vows are sacrosanct—an incontrovertible tradition.Right. Dear old Dad will piss all over that tradition as soon as he gets the chance, but he can’t avoid it at the beginning. There are too many angels watching.
“I’m ready for the vows,” I say, loud enough formy voice to carry to the stands. “The speakers are in working order. As you can see, I used your finest set.”
There’s tittering among the sycophants.
S’lach rolls his eyes. “Of course. The vows are sacrosanct. Incontrovertible.”
He couldn’t sound more sarcastic if he tried, but he crosses to my side and waves Gavin and Malach over. His proximity makes my skin crawl, but I hold myself rigid as Malach lifts the bell-shaped receiver to my mouth.
“I, Celine, angel of truth, born of thenish thatsha,vow to honor the Radiant Dueling Codex in its entirety.” I activate my truth runes as I make the vow. It’s not technically necessary. The speakers are spelled to prevent cheating, but my compliance makes whatever lies my father has already told the crowd harder to swallow. Anything I do to discredit him is effort well spent.
S’lach repeats the vow into Gavin’s receiver, and his bored drawl sets my teeth on edge. This is serious. One of us is about to die, and he’s making it clear he doesn’t care. I don’t know why I expected anything different. He’s shown me who he is a million times. If I refuse to believe him, that’s my fault.
I tap my foot on the ground.Radiant Rule of Dueling #10:If angels choose to settle matters of succession through dueling, it will go to the death, unless both parties agree to submission in the presence of neutral witnesses.The rule exists to discourage anyone from doing this over petty disagreements. Unfortunately for thethatshawho wrote the codex, the only things my father and I have in common are red hair and the burning desire to watch each other die.
Gavin clears his throat and addresses the crowd. “None shall interfere in the outcome of this duel. Seconds are in place to ensure that all spectators remain as such.”
I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you said the same thing to me when I was fourteen and Malach and I were sparring in the yard.”
Gavin’s right eyebrow twitches, but he won’t look at me. The stab of hurt takes me off guard. I work at a strip club; I know how to spot guilt on a man’s face. This is lip service. History aside, I can’t count on him to stop my father from cheating in this duel. And if someone in the crowd attacks while my back is turned, there won’t be much I can do about that either. S’lach will kill them afterward and pretend his victory was stolen from him, but he’ll have what he wants—the estate, with no troublesome daughter getting in his way.
“Where are your lovers?” Father sneers as he surveys the crowd. “I would have thought you would want a grand farewell.”
They’re here, they’re just out of sight, shielded by Ciprian’s magic. I asked them to stay hidden so my father couldn’t target them to distract me. His obvious annoyance tells me it was the right call.
“There’s no need for a farewell if you don’t plan to die.” I grin at him. “Where are your lovers? Oh, shit, my bad. I guess you don’t have any because someone would have to be able to stand you first, and we both know that’s impossible.”
His eyes spark with fury. Good. I’m mad, too, and I want him to feel every second of it. Revenge. Vengeance. Retribution. Words are irrelevant because I know why I’m here.
I take my place inside the dueling ground.
He strides to the opposite side lazily, the picture of reluctant violence.
It’s all an act, part of the lie he lives daily. I saw the fire in his eyes and the vein pulsing on his forehead. He’s relishing this.
Malach activates the speakers, and I wince as my tinny voice echoes around the courtyard. Once my recording ends, my father’s voice repeats the same vow. The loop will continue until one of us dies and the duel ends.
It’s annoying, but the low drone of our voices is steeped in magic. If I even think about breaking the rules, I’ll be wrackedwith debilitating pain. If my father decides to break his vows, he’ll pay dearly for every infraction.
I draw my sword.
He does the same, and we salute. Golden sparks chase the arc of my blade. Eyes wide, palms prickling, I stare at my weapon in astonishment as the angels on the sidelines exclaim.
My sword is dripping with family magic. The angels watching believe it’s a sign from the gods. I believe it’s time to get this over with.
“Obvious artifice,” Father shouts. “I never thought a daughter of mine would stoop to cheap tricks.”
“And I don’t think of you at all.” I sink into a crouch and let the memories loose. All the times he beat me bloody under the guise of training. Every bruise he left on my mother’s body. He’ll pay for them all. I swear it.
My skin tingles, and a bell rings, momentarily drowning out the drone of vows.
