Page 137 of The Last Valkyrie

We fell into our dance—our preordained battle of wills that had lasted for decades.

Gresh’kellen scored two quick cuts across my arms in successive maneuvers that blurred so fast I missed them until I felt the ache of my flesh opening, blood spilling.

I answered back with a cut to his leg, spinning into him even as he drew back his blade from the second wound.

I ducked, he feinted, I swung, he reeled.

Our movements were so mirrored, so accurate, it was like we could have been brothers if we’d been born under different circumstances.

I chalked his first two hits off to distraction, and the fact my mind was elsewhere on Ravinica and her mates. Then I locked in, baring my teeth in a snarl and losing my composure.

He grinned at my anger, and I knew it was his ploy—that he would win the battle of ages if I let him get inside my head with that grim, wicked smile.

My hair whipped around my face as I pivoted from a double strike aimed at my chest—

He was already swinging to the side, without needing to look where I’d be, because I couldn’t have been anywhere else. The spirits wouldn’t allow it.

One misstep would cost either of us our lives. Our blades came within a hair’s breadth with every strike—rarely clashing together. Instead, our swordswhooshedand displaced the air around us, until our dance was nearly silent.

No voices, no sounds, no breathing. Only decades of earned hatred and memories, silent actions and betrayals, as his Dokkalfar kin had warred with mine for so long in Alfheim.

And always, there had been us. Two preeminent fighters of our respective people, dueling for the fates.

His sword struck my hip, tearing my light tunic and drawing more blood. I was nicked in half a dozen places already, and he only showed half as many from my attacks.

I slumped back on my back heel—

He charged headlong, eager to put an end to me.

I crouched and lunged at the last second, my slump a feint to draw him toward me.

My blade came within an inch of his waist, a split second from opening his belly, as he hopped out of the way.

Spinning, I cocked my left arm back, parrying his sword with my right at the same time as I leapt backward.

I saw a moment’s hesitation on his thin silver brow—

Then my forge-bright dagger whipped through the sky as I launched it at him end-over-end.

His eyes never left its sharp, whistling tip, and he batted the dagger from the sky—

As I ran at him behind the thrown dagger, my silver steel in both hands, reflecting bright moonlight off the edge with a purposeful shift of my wrist—

Temporarily blinding him.

He let out the first sounds of frustration, the first sounds since the duel began—a growl of dismay—and abandoned his foundation, dashing to the side so quickly he nearly seemed to teleport.

He caught the backhand of my sword as I fell to a knee, sparks flying from both of his blades.

Gresh’kellen went for a riposte while I was vulnerable in front of him, taking the space where he’d been standing a heartbeat before, sliding on my knees.

His sword came down in an executioner’s strike meant to behead me—

I lifted my sword over my shoulders and neck without looking, eyes to the ground, twirling the blade in an instant to meet steel on steel.

His sword curved over mine with a ringing in my forearms, the edge digging into my back—

As I swooped the sunstone dagger off the ground at the same time with my free hand, launching to my feet and twirling into his body.

---