The Defiant (The Valiant #2)(94)

But it was over, finally. For Sorcha. I thought it was for me too.

She bent to retrieve my blades, and I reached up and dragged the helmet from my head, and the crowd cheered wildly. A cheer that turned to a horrified gasp as a ball of flame slammed into the ground right beside me. I dove out of the way instinctively as a comet of heat and smoke roared past my head. My shoulder slammed into the ground and I rolled, springing back up to my feet to see Nyx standing before me, one of the Amazons’ smoldering fire chains dangling from her fist. I’d somehow managed to forget one of the most important lessons Sorcha had taught me as a child.

Never let down your guard until you’re off the field of battle.

And I was most definitely still on the field.

My sister tossed me my swords, and I nodded at her to step back.

This was going to have to be my fight and mine alone. The crowd would have it no other way. Nyx was clearly fine with that. She might not have been willing to fight Sorcha, but unsurprisingly, she seemed to have no such qualms about me. I felt my stomach twist with apprehension. The things Nyx was capable of doing with a whip had been my downfall every single time I’d fought with her. Seeing her now, with what amounted to a war god’s version of the same weapon—a whip, only made of metal and on fire—was almost enough to make me turn and run.

And then I remembered something.

Just like Sorcha, I didn’t have to fight Nyx the way I’d always fought her.

There were no rules here. No referees. Nothing confining me to one weapon or another. Nothing but my own choices. The rest of the arena had gone silent; all of the other fights had dwindled to stillness. Nyx and I were the absolute focus of every pair of eyes there. High up on the ludus walls, beneath his fringed awning, Pontius Aquila’s face was white and stark. His hands gripped the rail in front of him as he leaned forward, his eyes pools of shadow that threatened to grow large enough to swallow me whole.

I could almost sense his anticipation of my death.

Not tonight, Tribune, I thought. Not ever for you.

I saluted Nyx and the crowd with both my swords . . .

Then I sheathed the blade I held in my left hand.

Nyx sneered at me as I stooped to pick up a shield that lay on the ground. Nyx had never seen me use one in single combat before. Which also meant she had no idea what to expect from me.

“Come on, then,” I said, sinking into a ready stance. “Let’s finish this.”

The flaming cage of Nyx’s fire chain slammed into my shield, and a bloom of flame licked out around the edges. I felt the heat, but no hurt, as she swung the thing back and attacked again. And again. All I had to do was anticipate which angle she was coming at me from and move to block. If it hadn’t been for all those hours of practice on the ship, I don’t know that I could have done it. But I remembered Cai’s shouted instructions to the girls as Quint blew his whistle commands. I kept my feet moving. My shoulders tucked and angled. My head down . . .

The fire cage put a drag on the end of the chain that Nyx wasn’t used to. Her whip had been a supple weapon, the tip of it like a darting serpent’s tongue. The fire chain handled more like a bludgeon. When I saw her winding up for one of her signature attacks, I made my move. The fire cage dragged for a moment as it hit the ground, longer than Nyx was used to. I dove for it and slammed my shield down, driving the cage into the earth. The flame extinguished, and the chain went taut between us. With a great cry, I hacked downward through the metal links with my sword. They parted in a shower of jagged shrapnel.

And the blade of my oath sword shattered with them.

I uttered a cry of denial that was echoed through the crowd.

With my shield edge lodged in the earth, Nyx snarled in triumph and reared back with the truncated length of chain, aiming to smash it down on my defenseless skull. In her enthusiasm to spill my brains, it seemed she’d forgotten that I had a second sword. And she’d left herself wide open.

Hidden behind the shield, my second blade slid free of its sheath . . .

She lunged at me, and I buried it between her ribs.

Just like she’d once buried her knife between mine.

“Count yourself lucky, Nyx,” I said quietly as she slowly sank to the ground in front of me, a look of disbelief on her face. “I’ll see you get the burial you deserve. But I won’t let your dark master eat your heart.”

The roar of the crowd was deafening.

It filled my head and made the ground shudder up through my feet.

It masked the whine of the arrow.

The shaft hit me squarely on the left side of my chest, above my heart, and knocked me off my feet. I looked up through a haze of pain to see Tanis, the archer, draw another arrow from her quiver and nock it to her bow. If I had been wearing my usual armor, I would be dead. But the breastplate Cleopatra had given me was—unsurprisingly—heavily decorated with scrolling metalwork and made of the finest, thickest bull’s hide. It dented on impact, and I felt like I’d been hit by a catapult stone, but I was alive.

Unpunctured, maybe, but unable to move.

I looked up, helpless as Tanis sighted down the length of the arrow shaft. I closed my eyes. Prayed to the Morrigan she would take my soul in flight . . . Waited for impact. For death.

But nothing came. I opened my eyes to see her still standing there, frozen in hesitation. The crowd held its breath, but Pontius Aquila’s patience was at an end. He stood and lunged for Tanis, wrenching the arrow and bow from her grip, shoving her aside. Then he turned and, competently enough to tell me he had some archery skills at least, nocked the arrow and sighted.