Page 127 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“Should’ve just stayed quiet,” he growled.

Panic surged through me. My vision blurred, my lungs screamed. I clawed at his arm, twisting my body beneath him. His grip tightened.

I reached down and drove my fingers into the soft spot beneath his wrist—a pressure point Solei had taught me years ago. Perin grunted, his grip faltering just enough. I twisted hard, wrenching free and rolling to my feet in one desperate motion.

Perin circled me like a vulture, smug and confident—and worse, patient. My ribs ached from his last strike, and I knew I was slowing down.

“Come on, little Thrall,” he sneered. “I thought you were supposed to be tough.”

I gritted my teeth.Don’t rise to it. Stay calm.

He lunged again, faster than I expected. I twisted, but his fist caught my ribs—the same bruised side—and I felt something sharp lance through my body. Pain flared, and I stumbled.

“Looks like I found a weak spot,” he sneered, grabbing my arm before I could recover.

I slammed my elbow into his side, but he was ready for it this time. He twisted my arm back so hard I thought my shoulder might tear free, and my knees buckled under the pain. My breath was ragged as he forced me down to the ground, his full weight pressing on my chest.

“You should’ve stayed quiet,” he hissed, his face too close to mine. “If you’re too stupid to spy for your father, then you’re just a liability.”

“Was it him?” I choked out, struggling to breathe. “Did Cyran send you?”

Perin chuckled, low and cold. “Even your family wants you dead, then?” He grinned wider. “Not that it matters. Seems plenty of people want you gone.”

My stomach twisted.Who else?

“Why?” I forced the word past my dry throat.

“Doesn’t matter.” His grin turned wolfish. “You won’t live long enough to find out.”

Something inside me snapped. Rage—cold and sharp—surged through my blood, a fury unlike anything I’d ever felt. My legs twisted beneath me, and I drove my knee up with everything I had.

I hit him square between the legs.

Perin let out a strangled sound, his grip loosening just enough for me to wrench free. I rolled hard to the side, gasping for air. My ribs screamed in protest, but I forced myself to my feet, my head spinning.

“You bitch,” Perin snarled, clutching himself as he staggered upright.

I swayed, one hand pressing my side. My body screamed to stop, but I locked my knees to keep from falling. The pain throbbed in sharp waves—hot and brutal—but I refused to show weakness.

“Next time,” Perin promised, his voice ragged, “I won’t hold back.”

“Neither will I,” I spat.

Remy strolled forward with the same lazy swagger he’d always carried, the kind that said he knew exactly how dangerous he was and didn’t give a damn who knew it. The entire Warborn Squad paused their sparring to watch him. Even Crownwatch shifted their attention toward the ring. He’d been gone for three years, and with so many new faces, it was clear they were curious. Curious to see if the infamous Lieutenant Saulter still lived up to his reputation.

“It’s my turn,” Remy said, his voice low and cold as he waved me out of the ring without so much as a glance in my direction.

I didn’t argue—I knew what was coming.

Perin’s grin spread wide as he flexed his shoulders, still smug despite the pain I’d left him with. “Why?” he sneered. “Are you going to kick me in the balls, too?”

“No,” Remy said in a flat, disinterested voice.

Perin’s grin faltered. The tension in the air sharpened, the kind that made your heart race for no reason except the knowledge that something brutal was about to happen.

The other squads stopped their matches entirely now, the clang of steel fading into silence as every eye shifted toward the ring.

“Begin,” Major Kaler barked, obviously making sure Zander knew who was in charge.