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She felt sick to her stomach. Killing should never be for enjoyment. Even as thousands of people jumped to their feet and yelled for her. She’d won. She’d done what she had come to do, but she had done it at Vulsan’s command. And she wanted him to know that she knew it.

She stomped across the arena until she was directly before his box. He hadn’t taken a seat. He watched as her rage carried her to the space before him. The Doma had been on high for so long that he clearly didn’t even consider her a threat.

With a battle cry, she lifted her sword in the air. The crowd screamed their approval. But it was only Vulsan who truly saw that she was pointing her sword at him. That she was challenging him for what he had put her through. The change of opponent to try to get her out of the running quicker.

He’d lost.

She’d won.

Then, she slammed the blade into the sand until it hit hard earth and stayed there. With Vulsan’s eyes still keenly on her, she dropped a mock curtsy in his direction. No deference in the movement at all, as she never took her eyes from him. He didn’t move or give any indication of what he was feeling, except the briefest tip of his head.

He understood. He certainly understood that she was suicidal.

No one went up against the Doma and lived.

But there had to be a first time for everything.

27

The Competitor

Constantine was still scolding Kerrigan the next day about her display. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?” she asked with an eye roll over breakfast.

“You know exactly what you did.”

“You told me to put on a good show.”

He huffed. “I didn’t tell you to taunt a Doma!”

“The crowd loved it.”

Which was true. The crowd had completely drowned out anything Vulsan or his little announcer could say after her curtsy. She’d strode out of the coliseum a hero. Turned out, all the people Vulsan kept under his thumb didn’t like it any more than she did.

“Tread lightly. You’ve proven yourself now. The next competitor won’t be so easy.”

“When do I face him?”

Constantine shook his head. “Her. Senovara. She’s from Gallia, an island country in the north.”

“Domaran ruled?”

“Of course.”

Kerrigan blew out a breath. “Is there anywhere that Domara doesn’t rule?”

“Aye. But nothing within a thousand miles.”

“Gods,” she muttered. “So, Senovara?”

“Next week,” Constantine told her. “Today, there’re the four other competitions. We’ll head that way before the first fight. And tomorrow night, we’ll attend the competition party for those who succeeded in the first round. Then, we’ll train on Senovara’s weaknesses.”

“Right. Until Vulsan changes who I’m fighting again.”

“Then, we’ll train on all the competitors who won,” Constantine said sternly. “Unless you’d rather throw yourself a pity party.”

She laughed at him. “Fair. We’ll train. Vulsan is going to have to kill me himself if he wants me out of the competition.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

Kerrigan put her fist to her chest and then took her plate to the kitchen for cleaning before running up the stairs two at a time. Constantine would want to leave soon, but sometimes, there were more important things than getting to the coliseum early. Her match yesterday hadn’t started until nearly midday. She had time.

She knocked twice on the door at the end of the hall. “Danae?”

Silence met her. Kerrigan sighed and knocked again.

She’d stayed to watch all the matches until late yesterday, but when she came home last night, she tried to talk to Danae. She had refused to come to the door, and Kerrigan hadn’t had the energy to burst in there and demand her attention.

“You can’t stay in there forever.”

A few moments later, the door creaked out, and a puffy, swollen face with red-streaked eyes appeared before her. “Go away.”

“Your father shouldn’t have left you up here, all alone. You should have come with us yesterday.”

“I’m not allowed to go.”

Kerrigan huffed. Ridiculous. But she decided to change the subject. “I need to go to the baths. I cleaned up after the fights, but I need a soak. Go with me?”

“I can’t leave. No one should see me. I’m a … monster.”

“Why?”

Her eyes rounded. “Why? You saw what happened.”

“You stopped a monster from killing me.”

“It went too far.”

“Am I a monster then?” Kerrigan asked, holding her arms out.

“What? No.”

“I killed a man in cold blood yesterday.”

“That was for the tournament. He would have killed you if you hadn’t stopped him.”

“It wasn’t my first kill. And if anything, the tournament makes it feel worse. It was unnecessary.”

“So was what I did!”

Kerrigan put her hand on Danae’s shoulder. She flinched. “You saved my life. I will never see you as a monster for stopping him. He had every intention of killing me, and he wouldn’t have been satisfied with just my blood in the end. Did I wish him dead? No. But he wished me dead, and nothing else mattered in that moment.”

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