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And yet, I wondered how long he could go on without tiring, without stumbling. As if my thoughts poisoned fate, he stumbled just then. Galen advanced quickly, grazing Maksim’s cheek with the tip of his blade. At first, I thought he’d escaped injury yet again, but then I saw a red streak appear at the wound.
“Maksim!” I cried out, springing off the bench where I sat, desperate to get to him. “Stop this! Right now!”
He shot a glance at me and I froze. He looked so dangerous, so intense, that my knees buckled beneath me. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I knew that I couldn’t interfere.
Galen allowed Maksim to regroup, strutting back to the other side of the circle, grinning. Cheers and hoots shot up from his side of the stands.
But it was as if Maksim’s injury gave him a new breath of energy. He gathered up a handful of the dirt at his feet and pressed it to his wound to staunch the bleeding. Then he took the ready stance again.
Galen still had his back to Maksim. I knew that Maksim could easily have stormed him from behind, but that wasn’t his way—backstabbing was no way to end this honorably. Instead, Maksim placed two fingers to his lips and cut the noise with a sharp, intense whistle.
“Come on, you fucking rapist,” Maksim growled. “You want to do this thing or do you need a break?”
It was the first time Maksim had spoken directly to Prince Galen, and Galen didn’t like it, not at all. But I saw Maksim’s strategy. He was prodding him into a mistake.
A clang of swords, a shift of bodies. A grunt. A stumble. The unmistakable sound of one of them dropping their sword, scrambling to retrieve it…but not succeeding. I forced my eyes open once again, and there was Galen, on his knees, with Maksim standing above him. Ready to finish the job.
The crowd roared its delighted approval, both our people and Galen’s. Next to me, Maria let out an excited, “Yes!” But I was in no mood to celebrate. Not yet. Until Galen was dead and gone, Maksim was in mortal danger. And that meant I was as well.
Because I knew, sitting there, watching this horrible fight, that I couldn’t live without him. Not even for a second. If he died, I knew plenty of poisons I could use to end my own life.
Maksim widened his stance, and made as if to ready himself to deliver the killing blow. An excited, morbid hush fell over the crowd. All of this, it sickened me. It horrified me. And yet I couldn’t look away, either.
The blade of Maksim’s longsword hovered over Galen’s neck. But instead of landing the final blow, Maksim asked, “Do you yield?”
Galen furrowed his brow at the ground. I was close enough to see him blink confusedly and sneak a timid sideways glance at his guards.
He was either too scared or too surprised to say anything. After a few seconds, Maksim asked again, “Do you fucking yield?” This time he punctuated the question with a foot on Galen’s back, forcing him face-down onto the ground.
Galen spat out a mouthful of dirt and hollered, “What are your terms?”
“Recognize our marriage,” Maksim snarled. “Relinquish your claim on her. Get the fuck out of Estana. Pay compensation to the girl you defiled. And my guardsman gets to take your left hand as consolation against your life, you filthy piece of shit.”
Galen hesitated, but the pressure of Maksim’s boot drove him harder into the ground, making him blink away dust. “All right! Fine! I’ll do it!”
“Relinquish your claim on Anika. Right now, in front of all these witnesses.”
“I relinquish my claim. You’ve won her. She’s yours. Fair and square.”
“And ask me for mercy.”
“What?” Galen scoffed.
“You heard me. I want to hear you say it.”
There was a moment’s pause, and I thought Galen might refuse. But the fear I saw in his eyes was real. He was a bully, and like all bullies he was afraid of anyone willing to stand up to him.
“Well?” Maksim pressed the tip of his blade forward, and Galen whimpered.
“Mercy!” he cried. “Please have mercy.”
And with that, Maksim tossed his own blade aside. To the astonishment of me, Maria, and everybody else in the crowd, he offered Galen a hand and hoisted him up off the ground. Once they were both up, both disarmed, Maksim pulled Galen close, in that physical and masculine embrace that warriors alone seem to do so well, and muttered something inaudible.
Whatever it was, it brought a scowl to Galen’s face, and he thrust his knee at Maksim’s groin. Maksim reacted quickly, but it seemed to be a feint as Galen took advantage of the moment of confusion to roll, grabbing his sword and coming up fast. He lunged at Maksim, still blinking away dust, and the crowd gasped as Maksim turned aside just in time, the blade missing his throat by a fraction of an inch. Maksim caught Galen’s wrist and brought his other arm around in a blow to his opponent’s shoulder, and the crack of snapping bone echoed around the ring. Galen was unable to stifle the cry that uttered from his lips, but this time it was clear Maksim wasn’t going to be merciful.
