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She growled, moving closer, her movements ripping the remains of her tunic until she was barely covered by the white material.
I lifted my sword, seeing her eyes watching mine, and at the last second, feinted, changing the direction of my gaze. She shifted with me, and then I was back, eyes on my target, and with another swipe, I hit my mark.
More blood gushed from her wound as my chest heaved with exertion.
Stamina, not speed.
I turned, lifting my sword, seeing she’d shifted her gaze to Rhyan across the arena, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed him out.
“No!”
I ran back at her, but she knew my game now and protected her hand, feinting and shifting in mockery of my plan. No matter. I’d hit the other hand instead. But she was ready and swiped her claws at me, the sharpened edges crashing against my golden armor. I staggered back, the shock of the impact reverberating against my chest.
I breathed in and out through my mouth, trying to ignore the pain in my side. I’d be bruised across my ribs if I survived. Again, her attention turned to Rhyan.
“Haleika!” I shouted.
She laughed. “Your grace.” Her voice was gravelly, thick, like multiple voices threaded together. “Still trying to prove you’re a soturion.”
I snarled, trying to gauge her next move. Was I fast enough to hit her legs? They were thicker—I’d need to hit harder. Strike fast and precise.
I didn’t think. I just ran. But she was faster. I sped up, my legs burning as I sprinted, and at the last second, she turned, running straight for me. I held out my sword, my hand shaking, but I was ready. She neared, and I struck. My blade sliced through her thigh. But the cut wasn’t deep. I’d made barely a scratch against her newly thickened skin.
Before she could react, I hit her again and again.
I saw it in her eyes before she acted, her decision to grab me. My heart pounded as I watched her clawed hands reaching for my stomach, just like the akadim the night before had done.
I waited, holding my ground, and at the last second—my heart a drum in my ears as the crowd screamed and roared—I jumped back. Her claws missed me by barely an inch.
Snow was falling in heavy flakes, and sweat was dripping down my face, as she moved again. I wasn’t fast enough this time. My armor protected me from her claws, but both her hands wrapped around my waist. Tightly. Too tightly. I gasped for breath, wheezing as my feet left the ground. I lifted my sword arm, my free hand digging for my dagger, my feet dangling helplessly.
“LYR!” Rhyan was roaring from the pole. His cry of anguish was echoed by voices in the crowd. My sisters. Tristan. My father.
I stabbed at her hands as they squeezed me, tighter and tighter. My blades sank into her flesh, and blood gushed, spilling across my armor and the snow.
Another stab, and Haleika roared in my face, the sound monstrous and pained. She released me with a cry, and I crashed onto the ground, landing on my ankle at the wrong angle.
“Fuck!” I fell onto my back, the snow cold against my cloak and hair while my ankle screamed in agony.
My ears rushed with the sound of my heartbeat pounding furiously, blocking out everything else in the arena—the screams and cries from the stands; the fights, protests, and arrests; the worry from my sisters and father; the anger from everyone else; their hatred for my family; their grief for Haleika.
Haleika stood over me, roaring with such ferocity, the falling snow was blown across my face, blurring my vision. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move. She swiped her claws at my dagger and my blade until both were spinning across the arena’s ground away from me.
“Hungry,” she snarled. Her foot stomped on my belly, her weight crushing me. I gasped, all the air rushing from my lungs. I coughed, trying desperately to breathe, to control my wheezing.
I had to get her off of me. I needed another weapon.
Reaching past my hips, I found what I needed—a Valalumir from my belt. It was stuck on the leather. She pressed harder on me, and with a cry of anguish, I tightened my grip on the nearest blade of the star, and with a grunt, ripped it free. I slammed the sharpened edges into her foot again and again and again until she stumbled back, releasing me from her weight.
I rolled over, sputtering and gasping for breath, my lungs in distress, my ribcage sore and bruised, my entire torso pulsing with pain.
“No more playing.” Haleika smacked my hand with such force, I released the star and screamed. Something crunched, and blinding white pain flashed through my body, my vision blanking for a second. She’d broken my hand.
I pulled myself up to a seat, barely able to move my right ankle or arm. Leaning onto my left side, my right hand broken and against my chest, I scrambled back as far from her as I could get. She swiped, and I threw my head back. Too late. She sliced her claws through my cheek. Blood ran down my face, dripping onto my neck and down onto my necklace, my blood coating the red starfire diamonds in the center of each golden Valalumir across my collarbone, chest, and shoulders.
I leaned my weight onto my left elbow. I had to get up. I had to stand, but Haleika’s large hands wrapped around me again, and I was hoisted back into the air, my heart plummeting into my belly as I soared up and then suddenly dropped down.
She held me by the back of my soturion cloak. My body dangled as her free hand shot forward, her claws aimed at my necklace. She was going to remove it, remove my jewelry, remove my armor, cloak, and tunic—undress me until there was a clear exit for my soul to leave my body, until only a black mark on my heart remained.
