Page 245 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

He’d be the only one I’d grieve. He would lose either way.

A ripple of awareness skated over my skin. The shadows whispered in a million voices, a spectral chorus of wisdom and warning.

I closed my eyes, centering myself. Then turned to face my opponent.

We held the same style blade—the raven hilted knives we’d forged ourselves in the Rite of Steel, when we ascended.

Same defensive stance. Same goddamn stubborn blood in our veins.

There was a reason royals didn’t duel.

“Begin!” Mother’s command cracked like a whip across my shoulders.

I held my ground, and homed in on my target as the world fell away.

Nix charged. Guard fist first, then the blade, curving on the third strike to slit my throat. I dodged, backpedaling, blocking the final swing before lashing out. Strike for strike, we mirrored one another. The tension in the room coiled tighter.

Then my blade glanced off his pec and he hissed in pain.

“First blood,” someone murmured.

A growl rumbled in Nix’s chest.

The spark in his eyes burned brighter—part irritation, part renewed focus.

Then we moved.

For such a bulky bastard, he was fast, and with our mirrored reach and shared training, neither of us could land a clean advantage. Fatigue, not finesse, would decide the victor.

Most duels didn’t last this long.

I finally landed a solid blow to his face. His head hadn’t even snapped back before he swept my leg out from under me. I hit the ground hard, rolled just as quickly, narrowly dodging the follow-up strike.

Relentless as ever, he adjusted mid-lunge. I blocked with my boot, kicked him back, and scrambled to my feet.

Momentum was both his strength and his downfall. I let him get close again, dodged, snatched his arm, yanked him forward. Growled as I struck for his kidney.

He barely evaded it, crimson blooming beneath his ribs.

Panting, we squared off, then he charged.

Left, right, right, dodge, block, kick, dip, attack.

Each breath was punctuated with two strikes. Faster. Harder. Steel clanged. The hiss of agile footwork wove between grunts and sharp inhales.

The next blow would draw more than blood.

It would draw judgment.

Pain slammed through my skull as his forehead crashed into mine, staggering me back. I choked on a breath, blinking away stars, arms rising just in time to parry his next combination. The floor spun beneath me.

Nix’s fury coiled through every muscle as he charged again. I could barely breathe, vision swimming with black spots.

Too slow.

A dull, cold pressure punched through my abdomen with the force of a hammer. My body jolted. My mouth fell open as I realized his blade had struck true—driven deep. Shock stilled everything. I blinked, a guttural sound clawing up my throat as my blade clattered to the stone.

Gasps cut through the haze like razors over my pride as a searing heat spread up my side, liquid warmth running across my skin. A feminine cry pierced the fog—Cali’s—sharp with disbelief.