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ESSA

K it—or whatever his name was—faced me alone in the clearing. I felt his discomfort at the intensity of my stare, but I refused to look away. Maybe I wanted him to see him squirm, to see him break. But he didn’t look away, either.

“Have you been honest with me?” I said at last.

He blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

His jaw clenched. “Essa, from the moment I saw you, I have been on your side…”

“I didn’t ask if you were on my side , I asked if you’ve been honest.”

He hesitated for an instant, glancing away—an evasion my dragon instincts picked up on.

“Of course,” he said. A lie.

I felt a protective wall inside myself going up. The oracle was telling the truth. He wasn’t who he said he was.

“We’re leaving,” I said.

“Where?”

“I’m taking you home.”

His mouth fell open. “What?”

“We can ride Othura. We’ll stop by the palace to get your things,” I turned to call Othura down from her perch.

“No,” he said, taking my arm and turning me back around. “I’m not missing your challenge against Laynine.”

“I’m trying to save your life, idiot.”

“I’m not leaving before I fight Braimar, either. After what he tried to do to you...”

“He did nothing.”

“Because I stopped him!”

“Right,” I said. “You stopped him with your necromancer weapon. With swords, in a duel, you don’t stand a chance.”

Anger flared in his eyes. “I think you’re underestimating me.”

“You’re a poet!”

“A… reporter!” he corrected. “But I’m more than that.”

“What are you, then? And tell me the truth.”

I realized in my fury I’d gotten in his face, so close our lips were nearly touching.

“I’m a man,” he whispered. “Who will never let anyone hurt you.”

At those words, I felt as if my heart crack open, so much pouring out of it that I could hardly breathe. Why was the one person who would say such things to me, the one person I felt so much for, also the one person I couldn’t trust?

I gave a bitter laugh. “If you’re so tough then show me. Show me you can beat Braimar.”

I took a step back and raised my sword.

He cocked his head at me. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

The softness I’d felt inside for him a moment before turned to steel. “Why? Because I’m a girl? Because I have one arm?”

“Because you’re far better and more experienced than me,” he said.

I threw my head back, appealing to the heavens in my frustration. “Then how can you expect to beat Braimar?”

“Because when I’m defending you, there’s no one in the world who could stop me.”

“Stop saying things like that!” I shouted, and I attacked him.

He barely got the sword up in time to deflect the first strike, a blow that surely would have split his scalp open. He side-stepped my follow-through with surprising dexterity and countered with a slash so quick, I barely got my blade up for it. Snarling, I launched a barrage of blows at him, each swing of the blade harder than the last, driving him backward. He retreated with patience then circled to my left.

“So, you were paying some attention to Clua’s lessons,” I said.

“I’m a quick study,” he replied breathlessly, darting in for a counterattack.

His style was unusual, his attacks coming in at odd angles, low, then high, then circling in from the side; they were surprisingly difficult to defend against, even for someone as seasoned as I was. But despite my anger, I remained patient.

I kept my distance, circling and retreating, and watched as his fatigued arm grew slower. Finally, I lured him in and waited for him to lunge. When he did, I hit him with one of my favorite ripostes, stepping sideways and slashing at his forearm.

The blade smacked him, causing him to snarl in pain, and the sword fell from his grasp. I stepped in, hooking his leg with mine and barreling into him with my shoulder, taking him to the ground. When we landed, I was straddling him, my blade pressed to his throat.

“You’re dead,” I said.

“Then why is my heart beating so fast?”

“Shut up!” I shouted. “You are the most infuriating person alive!”

“Ah,” he grinned. “So you concede: I’m still alive.”

“But at this time tomorrow you won’t be. So are you ready to let me take you back to Admar?”

“After I’ve defended your honor against Braimar and after your challenge you can do whatever you want with me. I’m not leaving until then.”

“Whatever I want?” Angry as I was, I couldn’t help flirting. I gave a twist of my hips, grinding myself against him. His lips parted, a low groan grating out of him.

No. Stop. I told myself. What’s wrong with you?

I forced myself to get off him and stand.

“Seriously, I have no time to debate this with you,” I said, pacing. “There are other matters that require my attention.”

I thought of the vision I’d received from the Oracle—the crates in the catacombs. As soon as darkness fell I had a plan to investigate, and it was edging toward twilight now. I had no time to remain here, arguing with a stubborn, lying enemy spy, handsome as he might be.

I called Othura with my mind. She swooped down, looking a bit lopsided with her injured wing. Kit seemed to notice her wobble as she landed.

“You okay, Othura?” he asked. I was surprised; it was the first time he’d addressed her directly.

“She’s okay,” I said. “The healers said her wound was shallow. They stitched her up. Dragons heal fast.”

In reality, I wasn’t sure Othura could handle flying all the way to URA. Maybe part of me had known Kit would refuse to go… But there were other dragons who could take us if necessary.

“Last chance, Kit,” I said. “Come with me. Please. Don’t make me watch you die.”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” he said. “I promise I’ll survive my duel if you promise to survive your challenge.”

I sighed in frustration. “You know I can’t promise that.”

“And I can’t leave.”

I shook my head, climbing up Othura’s tail and dropping into my saddle. “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met,” I said.

“But you’re still glad you met me,” he pointed out.

At my urging, Othura began jogging ahead.

“Really? You’re not giving me a ride back to the palace?” he called after me.

“Consider the walk part of your training,” I shouted over my shoulder, and I kept going.