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I wait for Fiala to go on, but that’s all she says. It’s an inappropriate thing for Stesha to have done, but was it truly so terrible that we can’t all move on after Stesha’s apology? “I don’t understand.”
“It’s tantamount to forcing a kiss on you or groping as far as your Alpha is concerned,” Fiala explains quietly, not looking away from the two Alphas. “In fact, it’s worse. Your scent belongs toMa’lenand no one else.”
Maybe it’s more about what that gesture means. Zabriel has always adored touching my hair and smelling it. I can’t fathom why Stesha would do something that’s so intimate when he’s always hated the sight of me. I remember what Zabriel said about another Alpha forcing his friend’s Omega. The memory of that time and those losses must be excruciating for him.
Zabriel draws his sword and waits, his red eyes burning as he glares at Stesha.
Stesha puts his hand on the hilt of his sword but still hesitates.
“Fight me, or never see your dragon again.”
With a snarl, Stesha draws his weapon. The two Alphas face each other at a distance of six feet, one dressed in black, the other in white. The wind catches Zabriel’s loose hair and teases it around his powerful shoulders.
Neither of them are wearing armor. I don’t want Zabriel to get hurt, and I don’t want to see him kill a friend either, even if that friend is Stesha.
“No,” I moan. I try to dash forward but Fiala and Dusan hold me back. “Let me go. They’re going to kill each other.”
“It’s only to first blood.” Dusan hesitates. “Usually. Alphas in a rage can be unpredictable.”
The tension in the courtyard is stretched to breaking point.
Zabriel strikes first, raising his sword and bringing it down in a vicious blow. Stesha parries it and falls back.
After the third arm-shattering parry, Stesha has run out of room and has to strike back. I cover my face with my hands in horror as the white-haired Alpha unleashes a series of blows that have Zabriel’s arms straining and his sword ringing like it might shatter. First blood could be life’s blood the way these two are fighting.
Zabriel feints to the left, and Stesha is tricked into striking out. When he overbalances, he leaves his right side open to an attack. Zabriel swings and Stesha is too late leaping back. The tip of Zabriel’s blade rips open his shirt and nicks his ribs. A trickle of red stains the white linen.
“First blood is yours,” Stesha says, lowering his sword.
I clasp my hands together in hope. Is the fight over?
Zabriel glares at the older man. “Do you think my memory is that short? Fight me properly.”
My hope dies as I realize that Stesha gave Zabriel first blood, and Zabriel could tell. Being called on his deceit makes fury blaze in Stesha’s blue eyes. He spins his sword in his hand and dashes forward to attack. The fight resumes, even fiercer than it was a moment ago.
What if Zabriel loses? Will Stesha become king? Will I belong to Stesha? I watch the man who calls me his mate desperately, begging him silently to win this and get out unscathed.
Their swords cross and become locked at the hilts. Across their blades, the two Alphas are nose to nose, sparks flying from their eyes, one set blazing hot, the other bitterly cold. Both their bodies are straining. My fingernails dig into my palms as I wonder whose strength will give out first. Both Alphas are seven feet tall and muscular. Zabriel gathers his feet under him, and with a roar, he pushes the other man off, sweeping his feet from under him. Stesha lands heavily on his back, and his eyes open wide in shock. He twists to get away from Zabriel but the point of my Alpha’s blade presses against his neck.
For a moment my heart is in my throat as I wonder if Zabriel will strike a killing blow. He keeps the point of his blade against the other Alpha’s neck as he seethes, “Do you yield?”
Stesha’s jaw flexes in rage, but a moment later he takes a breath and nods.
“I don’t want your blood. I don’t want your life. I want your apology to my Omega and your future queen for dishonoring her.”
Stesha nods again, and Zabriel steps back, allowing the other man to get to his feet.
Speaking in a wooden voice to a spot somewhere over Zabriel’s shoulder, Stesha says, “I apologize to Lady Isavelle for the offense I caused, and I ask for her Alpha’s mercy.”
“Do you covet her scent?” Zabriel growls.
Stesha’s expression contorts with disgust. “Her scent isnothingto me. I thought—” Confusion flickers over his face. “I thought I could smell—”
“What? What did you think you could smell onmy mate?”
Stesha looks wildly around the courtyard, and for a horrifying moment, I think he’s hunting for me. If he even looks at me, I think Zabriel might run him through with his sword, but his eyes graze over me as he searches every corner of the square. I’ve never seen this aloof man look like this before. Frantic. Despairing.
Lost.
