Frost (Frost and Nectar #1)(72)

It didn’t matter if I lost on points. Torin could choose me, either way. What mattered was staying alive for the next twenty minutes.

Moria’s rapier gleamed as she moved her feet into place. She thrust, and I parried. But as before, my sword was late, and I barely succeeded in directing the tip of her rapier away from my body.

I didn’t know why I could seem to deflect her blade, but I knew I had to take the initiative—to stop playing defense. I leveled my blade and lunged.

Her blade flashed up, faster than I’d ever seen a sword move, and she slashed a jarring parry.

I nearly lost control of my weapon, and as I was steadying myself, she counterattacked. She drove the tip of her blade into the flesh, just above my left hip. I staggered back, clutching at my side, warm blood already wetting my hand.

“A second blow!” screamed Moria.

She lifted her sword above her head, and I stared as my blood dripped onto the ice.

I glanced at Torin, his dark hair tinged with frost. His body was rigid, hands gripping the armrests of his stony throne.

I tried to straighten my body, but the pain was nearly overwhelming. I staggered, even as the announcer shouted that Moria was now up by two points.

Moria faced me again, her rapier raised.

I forced myself to stand straight, gritting my teeth. Moria appeared to have driven the rapier clean through my abdomen, about an inch and a half above my left hip. It hurt more than anything I’d ever felt in my life.

If that charm had worked for me, I’d really be enjoying its benefits right now.

I gripped my side, struggling to stay upright.

I hadn’t even raised my blade before she lunged, and pure instinct had me blocking the blow.

“Why don’t you just give up?” she snarled. “I’d have crawled away to die after the first humiliating video, never mind the photos.”

I didn’t have the breath to answer her. I was focused entirely on deflecting her blade. It flashed again, and I parried, the shock of her blow vibrating up my arm. I winced as those same vibrations ran down my injured side.

“You can’t possibly think you’ll redeem yourself?” said Moria gleefully.

“Not giving up.” Hot blood filled my mouth. Fuck, this isn’t good.

I wondered if Torin would stop the fight if it seemed like I was about to die— But he believed I was wearing the charm, didn’t he?

Moria continued to advance, slashing and stabbing with her blade, but only halfheartedly. She was playing with me now, like a cat with its prey.

“You should never have joined this competition,” she hissed. “Even for a gutter fae, you are a disgrace. A common whore.”

I wasn’t going to waste my breath on her. I needed to focus on the timing of her sword.

Moria lunged, driving her blade at my throat, and I brought my blade up. I managed to deflect her strike, but the movement sent me off balance. I still hadn’t managed to account for her glamour, and it was throwing me off.

I lost my footing and fell hard onto the floor of the arena.

Moria was going to sever my head from my body.

I could hear Torin screaming at her to stop, but I knew she wouldn’t, not until I was bleeding out on the stones.

Rage ran through me like wildfire, melting away the fear. I didn’t need Torin’s charm because something dark lived in me. And when I was cornered, I was monstrous.

Moria should drop to her knees and beg my forgiveness.

I kicked up hard, driving my foot into her knee from below. Her sharp yelp of pain was one of the most satisfying sounds I’d heard in years—followed by the scream of rage that erupted from Moria’s throat when I skewered her in the thigh with my blade, driving it into her bone.

She stared at the end of my quivering rapier protruding from her leg.

“You’re right, Moria,” I spat. “I am a gutter fae. We fight dirty, and we fight to win. But you’re not very different than me, are you?”

I ripped my blade from her thigh, and she staggered back with an agonized grunt. She looked completely stunned.

But she must have another kind of magic at work because she didn’t seem to feel the pain long.

Within moments, her blade flashed up, shining in the early morning sunlight. Silver and bright, it glittered like a jewel—a jewel, I knew with complete certainty, she would drive through my heart if given the opportunity.

I raised my rapier, matching hers. As Moria began to circle me, I studied the blade in her hand. Its luminescence drew the eye, and I wondered if that was the effect of the glamour.

I listened as Moria moved the blade slowly back and forth like a venomous serpent preparing to strike. I could almost hear a thin hiss of wind through the air.

If I focused hard enough, I could sense what Orla had said—the sound was out of sync with the actual movement of the blade. Moria thrust again, and I tried to predict her movement, listening for the blade. For the first time, I was able to cleanly deflect her strike.

Moria’s eyes narrowed, and she attacked again. Once more, I listened for the sound of the blade and was able to anticipate it. With a hard counter-parry, I directed her sword away.

Moria seemed to lose some of the ferocity of her attack.

I struck then, lunging, anticipating the speed of her sword. She parried, but I was still on the attack, and I slashed at knee level. We quickly fell into a pattern, a whirlwind of blades and ice.