Like his sister, Mahhir had dark red hair, a strong square jaw, and three-needle-long horns growing from his temples to the back of his head, but his gaze was wary and appraising rather than openly hostile. Even though he was eight years older than Lizaar and had better control over his emotions, Lannahi sensed his hesitation.
Lizaar made a mistake in allowing her brother to see her off.
“You came to ask what I will do when your sister loses?” Lannahi asked him.
Lizaar glared at her, but Mahhir’s eyes widened slightly. Perhaps he realized too late that he shouldn’t have accompanied his sister.
“You are rather confident,” he remarked with apparent calmness.
“And you are worried about your sister,” she countered. She wasn’t confident, just determined, but no one needed to know that. “Don’t you believe she will win?” When she noticed the tension in Mahhir’s face, she added, “Don’t worry. I’ve thought of a peaceful solution. I will present it in the arena.”
“You arrogant—” Lizaar began but stopped when her brother squeezed her arm.
Mahhir saw what his sister, blinded by emotions, could not. It wasn’t arrogance on Lannahi’s part.
It was an attack.
Lannahi remained silent as if politely waiting for Lizaar to finish speaking. She let the moment linger, but not too long to provoke Lizaar, before bidding Mahir farewell. She didn’t wait for his reaction and turned toward the door which she ostentatiously opened with an enchantment. The guards sent her warning glances, but she ignored them. She entered the waiting room.
“Admirable punctuality,” Bastet said, standing at the arena’s entrance.
Lannahi inclined her head. “Arbiter.”
The woman reciprocated the greeting. “Lannahi.” Her gaze moved over her shoulder. “Lizaar.”
When the two joined her at the end of the chamber, where there was nothing but benches against the walls and a stretcher on the floor, Bastet surveyed their faces. “Shall we begin?”
Lannahi and Lizaar nodded without looking at each other.
The Arbiter smiled, satisfied.
The stands of the Black Arena were filled to capacity. Lannahi doubted that all the Rulers from across the Continent were present and a cursory glance at the crowd confirmed her suspicions. The stands were occupied mainly by golden-haired enchanters and horned landshapers, most of whom were likely high-ranking court officials. The Arbiters sat in a box above the colonnade marking the arena’s exit.
Despite so many gathered, the air was thick with silence.
Lannahi felt strange. She’d been anxious that when the moment arrived for the duel, she would collapse in fear. Instead, what flowed through her veins was excitement.
When the three of them reached the center of the arena, Lannahi and Lizaar stood two long swords apart facing each other. Lizaar sent her opponent a hard glare, but Lannahi kept her expression blank.
“At the last Royal Sabbath, Lannahi, daughter of Sarkal and Asirri, issued a Challenge against Lizaar, Queen of Goldfrost,” Bastet said solemnly. “Fate has decided that their duel will take place today.”
If this had been an artistic performance, there would probably have been applause at this point, but the fae sitting in the stands resembled statues.
“Lannahi, daughter of Sarkal and Asirri,” Bastet turned to her. “Do you uphold your Challenge?”
“Yes.”
“Is there anything you want to say to your opponent?”
Lannahi regarded Lizaar. A one-piece tunic armor made of mailfiber to protect her body, arms, and thighs. High boots to shield anywhere a knife could slice into a tendon. Her hair braided without the use of pins. No jewelry, strings, or buttons… The landshaper seemed well prepared to fight someone whose specialty was enchanting objects. Assuming Lizaar was good at throwing, a belt with knives instead of a sword or spear was also a good choice. However, looking into her eyes, Lannahi doubted that the woman was going to reach for a physical weapon. She could crush Lannahi with her anger.
“Lizaar, Queen of Goldfrost,” Lannahi said loud and clear. “The first knife I throw will stab you in the leg. The second will gouge out your eye. The third will slit your throat.”
She fell silent, giving her opponent and the fae sitting in the stands time to digest her words. When the landshaper paled, she added, “You can avoid this, Lizaar. Surrender, and I will spare your life and return your freedom.”
Lannahi heard a commotion in the stands but didn’t tear away her gaze from her opponent’s face. She shivered as she watched Lizaar’s face fall slack with indecision. The thought that she was able to instill fear in someone was both disturbing and gratifying.
“Lizaar, Queen of Goldfrost,” Bastet turned to the landshaper. “What is your answer?”
