Page 106 of Daughter of the Serpent

“I’ve had lessons with you every day,” she countered, her frustration bubbling over. “Magical training every night. And yet I’m supposed to stand here, doing nothing, while they risk everything?”

“Magic is forbidden in the ring, besides a few weeks of training is nothing compared to a lifetime,” he shot back, his tone clipped. “I brought you here to watch and learn, not to throw yourself into a fight you’re not ready for.”

Her cheeks flushed with heat, her anger boilingover. “Why not let me fight, prove myself? I need practice.” she echoed, her voice tight with challenge. “I’m a better student than you give me credit for.”

“And if you lose a hand, a head?” He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening as he measured his next words. “If you choose to do this, I won’t stop you,” he finally said, his voice low, but edged with warning. “But it’s reckless. Better to keep your strength for what lies ahead.”

Sylvie’s chin lifted defiantly, her voice barely more than a whisper as she searched his face. “Do you doubt me, too?”

“No,” Axel said quickly as if her words surprised him. His eyes carried a softness, but still were unrelenting. “But I’ve sworn my loyalty to you, and with that comes telling you the truth, even when you don’t want to hear it. This risk... it’s not worth it.”

“It’s one I need to take.” She said stubbornly. Her hand instinctively moved to her thigh, brushing the hidden dagger of Hallva, it hummed beneath her reach, the cool metal a reminder of its power. She stiffened with surprise when Axel’s fingers closed over hers.

“You’d better keep that hidden from prying eyes,” he murmured, his voice barely audible above the noise. “Take this instead.”

Before she could react, he reached for his side, unfastening his ax with deliberate care. He placed it in her hand, the weight solid and foreign, the golden bear’s ruby eyes gleaming up at her.

“You would let me use your weapon?” she asked, unable to hide the surprise that widened her eyes.

“It’s given its permission,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

Her brow furrowed, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

The horn had blown again in the distance, signaling the delegates to cease their fighting, declaring the break before the next round.

“You’re not the only one who wields a weapon of the gods,” he said, a strange gleam in his eyes. “Now go, before they begin. May it serve you well.”

Sylvie wrapped her fingers around the ax’s hilt, its weight settling in her grip. The air seemed to shift, a rush of wind whirlingaround her hand as if the weapon recognized her touch. Before she could move, Axel pulled her closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“Bjorn will come for you.” he whispered, his voice a rough cord between them. “Be quick, and land your strike swift and true - don’t miss.”

His words sent a chill down her spine, but she nodded, the fire in her gut burning hotter than the fear. She turned toward the ring, but his grip didn’t falter.

She looked back, locking eyes.

“Don’t hesitate to spill his blood.”

Axel’s lingering gaze pressed into her, and for a moment she just stood there, absorbing his words.

When she offered herself up into the ring, she had no intention of taking a life.

Letting her go, Sylvie stepped forward, her boots crunching over the coarse dirt of the ring as she crossed the line between the onlookers and the fighters.

For a moment, everything in her resisted.

What was she doing?

But it was too late to turn back now. She chewed her bottom lip as she willed determination to rise again. The hum of the crowd faltered as she came forward, dipping into a shocked silence before erupting into a wave of murmurs. Eyes - so many eyes - swiveled to her, brows knitting in disapproval, lips curling with unspoken scorn. They all parted reluctantly as she moved through, their glares heavy against her skin. Whispers clawing at her back.

Maybe Axel was right - she was being reckless, stupid.

Axel’s ax hummed in her grip as she gripped the leather - wrapped hilt solid in her hand, her knuckles whitening against the handle. Her heart pounded in her ears, as the other warriors in the ring turned, watching her approach.

An elder, with his gray beard and ceremonial robes, stepped forward, raising a weathered hand. “Stop!” His voice rang throughthe air, sharp and commanding. “You are not permitted to enter this fight.”

The eldest among them, a tall woman with thin, silver braids and eyes as cold as river ice, crossed her arms, her mouth set into a tight line. “This arena is for those willfully chosen and prepared for the trials. You are neither.”

Sylvie’s breath came quicker, her chest tightening. Her defiance burned hot, but the sea of disapproval lapping at her edges made her resolve waver. She glanced sideways at Axel, who stood on the edge of the ring, his expression unreadable, his arms folded across his chest. He gave no indication of support - no sign that she should back down, either.