Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)(92)

I swept in low and slashed to the left as Darren stepped just out of reach.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

Our boots scratched against the slippery ground.

Again, I lunged, this time with a feint high and a jab toward the ribs.

But Darren wasn’t fooled. He caught my arm and twisted, bearing down on my blade arm as he swung his dagger down from above.

I ducked and rolled, but not before the hot bite of metal caught my shoulder in passing.

I narrowly avoided a curse as I fell back, dripping red. The wound was shallow, but Darren had drawn first blood, and it didn’t bode well this early in the fight.

Darren lunged forward, and I sidestepped his attack. I sent a cross-punch, slashing out diagonally with my blade.

The Black Mage blocked the attack with his fist, but the defense wasn’t without its cost. The serrated edge of my dagger pressed down against his skin. A bit of steam rose when his blood hit the floor.

The two of us continued to circle and lunge.

I tried not to think about how this moment would end, but with every passing second, it was becoming harder to pretend.

Our chests rose and fell heavily to match the beat of our pulses. A couple of minutes and then one of us would land a cut. A moment later, the other would follow.

Back and forth. In and out.

And blood.

Cutting, slashing. Gods, it was getting harder just to breathe. Sweat stung my eyes, and I grew dizzier with every lunge.

I wondered who would be first to collapse.

Stop worrying about the end, just focus on now.

I swung wildly as my boots slipped on ice.

Darren’s arm came up and out.

For just a moment, our wrists caught in one solitary blow. My breath came out hard and fast. I swallowed, feeling the dance of magic just below my skin.

Cast. End this now. Fight.

I had never agreed to “no magic,” and who would honor a deal with the villain? I could cast now. It would be so easy.

The second dagger withdrew from its sheath at my arm.

Darren’s gaze flit to the blade hovering in the air.

“Do it.” His eyes were twin pits of black; his taunt daring and cold. “Kill me.”

The second dagger dipped low against his chest. One swift push was all it would take.

Do it.

My casting trembled in the air as the magic pulsed along my skin.

Kill me.

There were a thousand and one reasons to take the Black Mage’s life. My friends. The rebels. Jerar.

My stomach clenched as my eyes locked on his. He was a monster, but I wasn’t any better. And if I did this…

Ian had been the one to say it: “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t hold yourself responsible for what he’s become.”

My friend was right. I did. And if I cheated our magicless duel, I was no better than the traitor Darren believed me to be.

I couldn’t do this.

Gods, I knew everything Darren had done, everything he would do, but I still…

No.

Not like this.

“One blade.” My mouth was dry as I croaked the words. “No magic.”

The second dagger returned to its sheath.

Darren would kill me. His eyes locked on mine and I could see it. There was hate. So much hate. It was drowning me, and it was everything I had ever done. I could see it right there in his eyes.

Fight.

It was the two of us, our arms crossed and weapons drawn.

My fingers trembled against the blade, and my wrist burned where his skin pressed down against my own. I could feel his pulse hammering against his veins.

Do it.

An ear-shattering roar cut the air, and for a moment, for a moment I thought I’d made a mistake.

But then it happened again.

My eyes were still on Darren as the ceiling creaked and groaned up above. They remained on Darren as the walls began to quake, as the pool splintered and the two of us staggered back, the ice shattering like a web.

His eyes were on the passage behind us. “Yours or mine?”

I heard my friends screaming at the top of their lungs: “No!” “Stop, Quinn!”

“Mine.”

The rebels didn’t need to kill the king; they just needed to bury him alive. And if I was a casualty? Well, sacrifices had to be made.

There was another boom and my pulse caught in my throat.

This was the part that I was supposed to accept, the part where I proclaimed my unrelenting devotion to Jerar. The hero didn’t fear death, and up until that moment, neither had I.

But, gods, here and now? Like this? Under a mountain of rubble instead of a quick blade to the neck?

I had blocked our only reasonable escape; my reserve wasn’t large enough to cast a way out the way we had come.

It isn’t “our” escape. It’s yours. Take advantage of the confusion and slit his throat.

The dagger was right there in my palm. Darren was distracted, staring out at his crown as it sunk into the dark waters below; it must have fallen during the first attack.

This is it. If I did it now, the rebels might even find a way to get to me in time. I might still live.

Another loud thud and I jumped. The first shard of ice hit the ground two yards to my left. It exploded apart, spraying my arms and legs.

Seconds later another followed.

My gaze shot to the ceiling just as a large chunk broke away. Right above our heads.