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“I didn’t plan to run forever,” she taunted right back.
Basem expected her to retaliate with air. That had been her main element at the last fight, and so she gave him exactly what he’d expected. She stepped forward and sliced her hand down, the wind listening to her every move as it cut through his chest. He avoided the next one and the next before kicking at the earth under his feet. It ricocheted throughout the arena, and the rock under her own feet erupted upward. She was propelled forward. But instead of being thrown off-balance with the force, she used it to vault upward, do a somersault midair, and then come back at him with an arc of flames.
Basem barely moved enough to bring up a shield of water to dispel the flames into steam. Kerrigan landed as gracefully as a cat on her feet on the other side of the ring.
“New tricks,” Basem growled as he forced the water to do his bidding.
Kerrigan dispelled it with ease, taking the water he’d thrown at her and bringing it into her magic. He didn’t have enough water magic to overpower her. His best bet was still earth.
“Same tricks,” she said back as she tossed the water aside. It wasn’t her best element either. “I thought this was going to be a fight.”
Basem reacted as she’d expected him to—with a vengeance. He went entirely on the offensive, slinging rocks and then trying to trap her with the earth at her feet. She evaded the rocks and used the chunk of rock he had tried to cage her with to propel it back toward his face. He barely got out of the way in time.
She watched his sloppy footwork and increasing heavy breathing. He was tiring and fast. No wonder he didn’t do his own dirty work. She had never been more thankful for all those runs with Fordham.
Kerrigan matched him pace for pace, using air to dispel his attacks and floating to avoid his wrath. She knew she was going to have to play up the offensive to get the crowd on her side, but this fight was about so much more than that. And she needed to keep it going for longer than she’d like. She would prefer just pummeling him and seeing this end.
She avoided another large chunk of rock and landed in a crouch. She narrowed her eyes, feeling the adrenaline pump through her as she waited to make her move.
“You are beneath me,” Basem said, kicking up a cloud of dust. “You will always be beneath me.” He threw the dust up into her eyes. “You don’t deserve to live.”
Luckily, she saw his move for what it was and pulled up some water to protect herself before it happened. But she played it up and stumbled backward, scrubbing at her clean eyes. The part was as important as reality. She could warp what Basem saw, use it to her advantage.
“Learn to do the opposite of what your opponent expects.”
Basem laughed, and she sensed him approach her. She held her hands up as if in surrender, to stop him from hurting her. Her eyes flipped up to Clover’s, who was waiting in the wings. She nodded her head once. Kerrigan smiled. When Basem next brought a rock down to end her, she grabbed his fist in her hand, turned it in place, and catapulted him over her shoulder. She opened her eyes enough to watch him collapse back into the rock.
And Fordham’s final lesson: “Kill or be killed.”
“You could never beat me,” Kerrigan said, whipping the dirt into a frenzy. “Never. You are weak. You used ambushes and an assassin to try to kill me, and still, you’ve failed. You will always fail.”
She turned her finger, picking Basem off the ground and into the whirling tornado she had created out of the air and dirt. She added fire to it, and he screamed. She flung her hand out, and Basem collided with the wall on the other side of the ring. Her confidence lifted, she advanced, drawing from her reserves, and tried to get up the nerve to end this. She had never killed anyone, not on purpose, but Fordham was right. She had let Basem live once before, and all it’d brought was retaliation. The last thing she wanted was to have a life on her conscience, but she refused to continue to play this game.
Basem heaved on the ground. A slash of fire had burned across his cheek. He met her glare with his own fury. And then something shifted, as if it moved from anger to satisfaction. Like he had her exactly where he wanted her.
“Big mistake, leatha,” he snarled.
His hand went to the pouch on his hip and removed the amber orb he’d held the night of the kidnapping.
