Page 24

Garroway charged at me with inhuman swiftness, closing the fifteen-foot gap in two strides. Rather than setting my foundation with my legs as I’d been trained to do, I was forced to somersault to the side to avoid getting sliced in half.

The sounds of his swords cutting within an inch of my body overhead displaced the air in a great whoosh .

I popped up standing—

And he was on me, scything and weaving his blades in expert cuts. I slammed my blades against his, backpedaling fiercely, gritting my teeth.

Two cuts burned on my arms before I knew what struck me. Blood spilled, trickling to the ground and into Rirth’s cage and the jail below.

The fight was not fair, and everyone knew it. To spectators, it must have been like watching a wolf and a mouse. Though half-blood dhampir were supposedly unequal to the strength of fullbloods, they were still noticeably stronger and swifter than humans.

Lukain was a good example of that. Garroway carried the same severe expertise.

Every slice was well-placed and timed perfectly.

His movements were graceful. Though tall, he was slick with his attacks, never overextending or leaving his guard vulnerable.

He struck in quick jabs, using his twin swords like they weighed nothing.

Our swords clashed and sparked, my dagger-hand barely able to hold off his strength, and the bones in my arm jarred from the impacts.

I seethed at him, face-to-face.

His mask of indifference broke, baring his teeth. His pointed fangs glinted in the red-blue light of the room. “I said not to go easy on me, honey badger,” he hissed.

I kicked out, forcing him back. My vision tunneled, locking into his gait, trying to pick up miscues in his style. I saw no apparent weaknesses, but he did favor his front leg more than his back. It enabled him to lunge constantly, going on a fierce offensive.

Since he wasn’t human, I assumed he would never tire. Does his blood pump the same way as mine?

I tried to expose the vague weakness by carving around him, circling rather than going back and forth like fencers. I would never beat him in a straight-up duel. So I tried to get creative—

And earned another shallow slice across my thigh, a mere inch from the vital artery there. It ripped my leathers, exposing pale flesh and a thin, surgically cut line of red. Blood spilled and I ignored it to keep fighting.

Problem was, no one else ignored it. With every new drip of blood, the sounds from our vampire partygoers rose into hisses and delicious murmurs, until it was becoming a ruckus out there. Much different than what I had heard during the other two bouts.

They can scent my blood, I realized, and it’s doing something to them. Arousing them or emboldening them, perhaps.

When Skartovius Ashfen sat forward on his throne, hands gripping his armrests, my eyes reflexively dashed over to the tall vampire lord.

I caught sight of Jinneth, now standing next to the nobleblood whose lap she had been hoisted on minutes before. She was off to the side, brooding. Her arms were crossed as she watched Aelin, who now had her ass planted on the man’s lap and was giving Jinneth a haughty smirk.

The distractions of those three nearly cost me my life. I whipped my eyes back to Garroway just in time to watch him angle his blade past my guard and stab into my side.

I grunted, forcing my burning legs to push me past him, sliding my dagger along his inside as I lunged forward.

He stepped aside with a rasp, a spray of black-red blood spurting from him as I tore into him with my momentum.

Fumbling to my knees, a wave of dizziness swallowed me. This wound was deeper than the other shallow cuts. My insides twisted from the harsh pain.

Lukain had trained me to take punishment from blunt weapons across every inch of my body—clubs, sticks, wooden instruments battered me until my resilience was sound and I’d become immune to the sensations, the pain.

I had never been trained to take steel swords in the gut.

Coughing, I fell to my knees. When I looked over my shoulder, Garroway kicked me in the chest and I flopped onto my back. My dagger went skittering across the grated floor. I held my sword up weakly.

Garroway’s swordpoint came down to rest at the hollow of my neck. His face was masked with . . . fury? Almost like he regretted what he had to do for victory.

I laid my head back, letting out a deep breath and awaiting my death. I saw the world upside down, past the pit, up to the raised dais where the most important vampires and my three friends—Jinneth, Aelin, and Helget—waited.

I’m sorry I failed, I thought.

A scream of rage rent the hall and I blinked.

Blood sprayed, and then a wet burble—

As Jinneth ripped Aelin off the vampire’s lap and plunged her small dagger up through the base of Aelin’s chin, through her mouth, and into her brain.

It had been Jinneth screaming like a banshee.

My world tipped on its axis.

Aelin dropped dead instantly, body limp and eyes rolled back. The important masked noblebloods nearest the quarreling duo stepped back, surprised.

A few of them even laughed.

The large vampire Jinneth and Aelin had been fighting over spoke in a muffled voice through his mask. “Oh, this one’s feisty. I like her, my lord.”

“She is yours, Demilord Aldion,” Skartovius replied.

The attention of my fight with Garroway had receded, shifting to the sudden murder of a potential broodstock.

“This match is over,” Lord Ashfen declared. He turned to stream past his throne, black-gold cloak billowing behind him.

The large nobleblood brought a shaking Jinneth closer to him in an embrace, while she stared down at the dagger hilt protruding out the base of Aelin’s chin.

My heart thundered.

I blinked wildly, hearing the rasps of Garroway’s blades tucking into his hip-sheaths. He reached an open hand down to help me up. “Lucky day, honey badger.” The crooked, mirthful smile returned to his face.

A separate lord motioned to Aelin’s body with a flap of his hand. “Put this one next to the big bear on the table, if she’ll fit. We’ll have double the feast tonight.”

“Might need to slide another table over, that big bastard,” said another.

The room broke out in callous laughter.

My first thought came, my brain finally realizing I was not going to die tonight—someone else had taken my place. Jinneth did that . . . purposefully. Did she make a scene and kill Aelin in cold blood because she saw me about to die—to shift focus?

My next thought quickly after: She only had that dagger because I gave it to her. Because I trained her to fight when she asked.

And now I feared I had created a monster worse than the heartless ones laughing in this room.