Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(71)

“She is? How could you possibly tell that?”

“Her blade is enchanted. By my best guess, it’s about three inches in front of where her opponents perceive it to be.”

I stared at her. “Isn’t that cheating?”

She shrugged. “Magic is allowed. But I want you to look out for it.”

“How do you know this?” I asked.

“Because I can hear the blades. And whenever anyone parries Moria’s blade, they’re always late.”

“How do you know it’s three inches?”

Orla sighed. “Every High Fae has a magical strength. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

“Okay.”

“You need to be at full strength for the fight against Moria.” She reached up to touch my face, and soothing magic trickled from her palm like warm rain.

She pulled her hand away. “Your arm is healed. But I wanted to give you something to keep you safe during your next match.”

I inhaled, watching as she pulled a silver chain from her pocket. At the bottom of the chain hung a charm, a stag’s head with emerald eyes.

“It has been in the royal family since King Finvarra reigned,” she said. “And it has always had the power to protect us from enemies of the king. When the monsters were going to cut off the king’s head, they fell dead instead. I always regretted that my parents were not wearing it when the monsters came for them.”

I stared at it, entranced. But when I reached out to put it on, I gasped and yanked my hand back. I stared down at my fingers. They were blistered, like I’d been burned. I cursed under my breath. “Is this because Torin doesn’t like me?”

She shook her head, and her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Torin wanted me to give it to you. He wants you to win.”

I pressed my burned hand against the icy stone wall to cool it. “I think I get it.”

He wanted me to win because he didn’t like me. I was the king’s enemy, and he’d made it more than clear to me that he wanted me to stay away from him.

“Ava!” Shalini called out from beside me, and I turned back to the arena.

Sydoc had lost her sword and was scrambling for it on the frozen stones. She slid over the ice on her hands and knees, but Moria struck one swift blow to the back of Sydoc’s neck and severed the Redcap’s head from her body.

The breath left my lungs.

I was next.





33

A VA

I stared as Sydoc’s body was cleared from the arena, leaving a thin river of red behind it.

Was this worth it? For fifty million—was it enough to risk death?

I walked back into the arena, my breath escaping my lips in clouds.

The truth was, it wasn’t just the money. I had nothing to return to, did I? Only ridicule, loneliness, and an empty bank account.

And when I’d practiced with Torin, I’d felt like I could take on anyone. If I could hold my own against a king, the strongest in all of Faerie…

The world seemed to grow silent around me, and my gaze locked on Moria. Blood spattered her leather armor, and her hair gleamed in the bright light—nearly the same shade.

My stomach fluttered.

Moria watched me through narrowed eyes, the hint of a smile on her lips. I glanced down at the ground, where Sydoc’s blood was already freezing—just another layer of ice.

I glanced at the crone, who lifted her arms in the air, ready to announce the start of the fight.

My heart was a war drum as I raised my sword, and Moria’s deep plum eyes locked on me.

The crone shrieked the start of the fight, and her voice somehow sounded a million miles away.

Across from me, Moria began circling with an unhurried sureness. Like a cat walking along a roof’s edge, she seemed oblivious to any danger, her sword arm relaxed and steady. She’d cleaned the blood from it already.

The little smile faded from her lips, replaced by a sneer. She started to advance toward me, slowly weaving her blade back and forth in a sort of mesmerizing movement. And it was an absolutely beautiful sword, a rapier with a long silver blade and a gold and diamond–encrusted hilt.

A sword fit for a princess.

With a little snarl, she lunged. I whipped up the tip of my rapier to parry, but just as Cleena had struggled with Moria’s strikes, I was a hair late. Instead of a clean deflection, I barely pushed her blade aside.

Her eyebrows rose, and she whipped her blade faster, her expression determined. I kept my rapier up in the guard position, my eyes locked on her sword. Suddenly, she lunged. Again, I parried; again, I was late. This time, she didn’t wait to strike. She immediately pressed her advantage with a series of blows.

I struggled each time to deflect her blade. It always seemed as though I were slow, like my reflexes were off. Orla was spot-on with her assessment—a glamour was at work. I just needed to overcome my own senses.

“Gutter fae, you’ve never fought someone like me before,” she said, in a taunting voice. “I have been training with the sword since I could walk.”

Moria advanced, the blade of her rapier flashing under the sun.

She struck again. I tried to direct her blade, but she twisted her wrist at the last minute, and the very tip of her rapier scratched my right shoulder.

“I struck a blow!” shouted Moria.