And there was clapping.
Isla whipped around, stunned by the sound, the only cheer in the room of hundreds.
The king. He was clapping for her.
Again.
She turned back to the Nightshade ruler, expecting him to hate her. But he was grinning, his eyes filled with something like delight.
He wasthrilledthat she had beaten him.
Which made no sense.
Her eyes narrowed at him, trying to read him. Never had anyone’s motivations been more of a mystery.
What did Grim want?
What game was he playing?
Spurred by their king, a few claps sounded in the crowd, then spread like wildfire until everyone was cheering, celebrating her victory, the lesser of two evils overcoming the other.
Still confused, Isla made her way to the sidelines, only to find a concerned Celeste. Her friend couldn’t say anything, not in front of the other rulers, but Isla knew she had made herself stand out too much. Her job was to skate by, mostly unnoticed, so they could hopefully be paired together.
The islanders and rulers were certainly noticing her now.
Cleo and Oro dueled next, as winners of their pairs. The Moonling put on an impressive display. In less than a minute, the king succeeded, however. But not before Cleo was able to tear a line down his arm. The skin flayed open. Blood stained the arena, sizzling. He did not make a move to heal himself before moving on to the next duel.
Part of Isla wondered how the Moonling dared wound the king. Nervous energy seemed to swirl through the arena, some of the islanders perhaps thinking the same thing.
Oro did not even bother leaving the ring. He stood, blade dug into the ground before him, hands resting on its hilt. Still bleeding. Staring at her. His final opponent.
His eyes were hollow. Emotionless.
She did not shy away from his lifeless gaze as she stepped back into the arena. This time, there was no applause for her. The crowd’s loyalty had shifted as quickly and predictably as the tide.
A bell, somewhere.
Then a sword, slicing the air before her to pieces. She managed to get her own up in time, just barely, but the strength of the king’s first blow echoed through her bones. She felt the force of it in her teeth.
A groan escaped her lips as she deepened her stance, digging in, absorbing the impact, shielding against his advance.
He kept pushing, and her back foot slid, compromising her posture. He was forcing her to make a move, to make herself vulnerable.
Did he think she was a fool?
She added a second hand along the hilt of her blade, then shoved back as hard as she could.
He did what she expected, pressing back in equal measure—
And she spun at the last moment, leaving him stumbling forward.
Isla was quicker on her feet, she knew that. It was her advantage.
But Oro was stronger. Even while wounded.
The king’s sword found hers before she could truly recover, and Isla fought to keep up, mostly on the defense, blocking blow after blow after deafening blow. He knew his strength. His strategy was to tire her, to use up her energy on taking his hits instead of making her own. Until her arms gave out.
She almost smiled.
