Page 40 of Fit for a Prince (Fit For A Crown #1)

Chapter thirty-seven

T he sky looked like fire.

Burnt oranges and flaming yellows blazed through the lingering clouds above. The remaining billowing tufts of white clouds looked like pillars of smoke pluming out from the flames. It glowed almost as brightly as when my castle had burned to the ground.

The arena seats were filled to the brim. It almost looked like a completely different space now that the seats were hidden by a sea of unfamiliar faces. The only spectators I recognized were at the front of the stadium in the box seat.

King Septimus sat in the center, his seat perfectly angled to watch the blood splatter across any square inch of the arena. Cedric and Atlas sat a row behind him, surrounded by almost all the advisors and officials I had seen in the meeting room with Lochlan.

Everyone else was a complete stranger to me, yet I still felt like I knew a few of them.

A majority of the crowd appeared to be nobility, all ready to watch the Ivalonian be made an example of.

They wore gaudy outfits with expensive jewelry that flashed the sunlight in my face, or thick coats and cloaks that warded off the cold. But among them were their servants...

Ivalonians.

Only about ten percent of the crowd was made up of them, but they were there. I wondered if they’d come by choice or if their masters had brought them to learn a lesson.

They’ll all learn today.

Lochlan stepped into the arena. He wore no armor, just a fitted leather coat and matching black gloves to ward off the cold. The crowd cheered when he stepped out, but he didn’t soak in the glory. He was too focused on his prey.

“Funny, when I secured our betrothal, I thought we’d come before the kingdom for a far happier occasion,” he called across the grounds, tightening the sheath around his belt.

“I find it difficult to believe you would have been happy with our union,” I said.

“It’s not too late to find out,” he said, an eager smile pulling at his lips. “You could always still marry me, princess. ”

I placed a hand on my slingshot, preparing to draw it with twitching fingers. The attendants left our sides, leaving us alone on opposite ends of the arena with the arbitrator taking his post on the sidelines.

“I’d rather die by your hand than live by your side,” I said, gritting my teeth in a frown. The crisp air nipped at my skin, sending me back in time to the cool nights in Ivalon when I’d spar from dusk until dawn.

“You will perfect this move,” Leopold demanded. “Every warrior must have a signature attack that never fails them. You will have one too if you wish to receive my acceptance.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“That’s a pity,” Lochlan said, his grizzly voice carried only to me by the icy breeze. “You really would have made a magnificent princess.”

“Magnificent,” Leopold praised. “Now kill another.”

“Competitors at the ready!” the arbitrator shouted, and the crowd went silent.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered to myself, the memory settling into my bones and awakening my muscles. “As you wish.”

“Begin!”

Start with your sword.

The blade was already in my hand, the weight of the sword no longer feeling unnatural as my buried skills burst from their grave. Lochlan waited for me, his smug grin tugging at my anger.

Don’t let your enemy get to you.

I crossed into his perimeter, and he immediately lashed out with his sword. Our blades crossed, the force of his powerful enough to slice through the air and blow my braid back over my shoulder. He pressed down hard, his longer sword easily strong enough to overpower the average woman.

Don’t rely on upper body strength, use your core.

My lessons spoke through my limbs before they ever reached my mind. I dug my heels into the ground and pressed up against Lochlan’s sword. The pressure was enough to spring him back, and I tucked into a ball and rolled under his arm then swiped at his ankle with my blade.

He growled at the spike of pain but didn’t shout. The first draw of blood should have distracted him another moment longer, but he reacted as quickly as if I’d missed. He swung his sword for my neck, and I jumped back only a second before he could slice open the scabbed wound on my throat.

Prod at your opponent, then let him come to you.

I ran fast and far, placing an ample amount of distance between us as the crowd roared for Lochlan. From their perspective, I had attempted a hit and ran to hide. Lochlan’s lack of reaction to pain made him appear invincible, and I wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t.

“Still playing games, princess?” he barked, twirling his blade in his grip and earning another cheer from the crowd. He didn’t seem to even notice their shouts, his mind completely locked into the battle at hand. “Your skills are impressive, but tricks alone aren’t enough to kill me.”

Lure him to you, then you control the angle of the fight.

“Depends on the trick.” I sheathed my sword, reaching for my slingshot and a handful of stones. I snapped the band back, firing at his shoulder to make him dodge left.

“Missed me—Ack!” He winced as the second stone nailed the left side of his chest. He hadn’t noticed that I’d fired off two stones in a single shot, or that I could aim them in different directions. “You little brat!”

I fired three this time. The first landed at his feet so he jumped back, landing perfectly where I’d aimed the second two to hit his ankles. He took the pain, gritting his teeth and absorbing the sting with a spiteful glare.

Drat.

The tiny stones were only annoying him. I reached for a larger piece of ammo, but he was already too close to make it worth firing. I grabbed my sword again, parrying his blade before it could slash open my chest.

He’d learned his lesson the first time. I tried to slip away to gain more distance, but he wasn’t going to give me an opening twice.

Focus on your footwork. You're fast. Use that to your advantage.

I let my body move on its own, clashing against every blow he met me with and moving my feet like we were entangled in a fifteen-step waltz.

Our blades danced together, almost clanging together rhythmically as sweat beaded across our brows and clung to our backs.

I should have been getting tired. It should have been impossible for a proper lady to hold her own in an endless battle like this, but I couldn’t play the part of the damsel today.

For a foolish moment, I looked up at the stands.

Atlas was standing, his knuckles white and eyes locked on every move I made.

I don’t know why I picked Atlas to look at when Cedric and the king were both in the same section, but it was him that I chose to look for. He was the one I wanted to fight for.

I had to survive today, even if it meant showing more skills than I should in front of a crowd.

I reached for my slingshot with my free hand, my palm almost too damp to firmly grip the handle. Lochlan glanced at it, but didn't pay it much mind since I had no hand to grab ammo with while I was fighting off his sword. Except I didn’t need ammo.

With a pounding heart and stunted breaths, I leapt back enough that my broadsword was at a disadvantage to his longsword. He immediately took the bait, thrusting his blade forward like a spear toward my gut.

I blocked my core with the broadsword, then slipped the band of the slingshot around his blade, trapping it in my hold. In the split second I ensnared his blade, I could see the whites of his eyes when his pupils shrunk to pin pricks.

I yanked as hard as I could, pulled his sword sideways, and ripped it from his grasp. He stumbled forward, and his weapon was mine.

“Stealing your opponent’s weapon to slaughter them with?” King Leopold smiled. “An excellent move. Do it again.”

I tossed the sword-entangled slingshot in the air, catching the sword by the hilt so I had a blade in each hand. The slingshot band had been cut down the middle, barely holding on by a thread of elastic. I kicked it aside, bidding it a silent thank you for serving me well.

Lochlan regained his footing, the crowd in chaos as they struggled to know who to cheer for. The king was standing, the blazing sky burning behind him with a fiery silhouette as if he were the devil himself looking down at our hell.

“How...?” Lochlan’s icy breath puffed from his lips. He rolled up his jacket sleeves, steam rolling off his sweat-slickened skin as he gaped at me with murderous eyes. He pulled two daggers from his belt. “It can’t be possible...I refuse to lose to you!”

“Now kill him.”

I crossed my swords in an X, then spun them at my sides before racing forward to cut down the prince who mocked my land.

He parried both swords, kneeling back on his leg as he pushed with a strength I couldn’t match, even with my heftier blades.

No matter how well I fought, his strength was superior to mine.

Unfortunately for him, I didn’t rely on strength.

“This is for Damon,” I seethed, my muscles on fire as the crowd’s roars propelled me forward.

I released my pressure against his blade, shifting to the side as his full power sent him tumbling forward and threw him face-first into the dirt.

He flipped over, his eyes crossing as the tip of his own blade came down an inch away from his brow.

The crowd went silent. My ring glistened in the fading light, my soul burning with bloodlust for all the lives that had been stolen from me. “Long live the prince.”

That was when I heard the gasp.