Page 129 of A Queen This Fierce and Deadly

Slash, slash, slash. Zathrian swept his sword toward me, and I dodged each strike, until it looked like I was running from him. I had a sudden memory of another arena and another man who’d been certain I would never be the hybrid queen.

That time, I’d used my power.

This time, I would prove I didn’t need it.

Sliding to the side, I shoved Zathrian’s sword arm away from me and punched him in the throat. It was a perfect punch, my first two knuckles sinking right into the spot Galon had taught me. My cousin gaped like a fishon land, one of his hands clutching at his neck. But he recovered faster than I’d expected, thrusting out one leg to trip me.

I went down. But I took him with me.

He lost his own sword. Together, we rolled several footspans to the right, almost slamming into Lorian and Eadric.

And Soltor.

The crowd roared. I’d blocked out everything but my cousin, well aware that Lorian could more than handle himself and I was the one who was most likely to die here.

But there had been no chance of Eadric fighting fair. Not against Lorian. And Lorian was sticking to the plan. If he came in and used his power to kill Eadric and Zathrian, there was almost no chance that the hybrids here would follow us.

I couldn’t help but watch as Soltor opened up a deep slice across Lorian’s neck.

And I was suddenly standing in that cell again.

It wasn’t Lorian being sliced to pieces. It was Cavis.

Cavis who was bleeding anddying.

“Prisca!” Lorian roared.

Hands clawing at my throat. Zathrians hands.

I took a frantic gasp of air and swung my elbow, smashing it into his chin. He cursed, and I used his moment of inattention to wiggle free, making it to my knees.

Until he viciously pulled my hair.

“Hair-pulling?” I snarled, kicking out at him like a mule. “Seriously?” He dodged my first kick, but my second caught him in the chest.

There wasn’t much power in it, though. And he’dgrabbed my hair again, yanking my head back. If I lived through this, I was cutting it all off.

He leaned over me. His eyes had turned crazed. Time seemed to stop as Zathrian stared down at me, and for one moment, his eyes cleared.

And then they narrowed.

Eadric began to laugh. Soltor was hurting Lorian. I didn’t have to glance to my right to know that much. Lorian would never use his power here after agreeing not to.

But Zathrian glanced to the right. Still holding my hair in his tight fist, ignoring the punch I slammed into his nose, he leaned down, his hand groping for his sword.

Every time I’d escaped certain death, every person I’d killed to save my own life, every near miss and lesson learned…all of them had led up to this.

It was me or him.

I moved the fastest I’d ever moved in my life, sweeping my dagger from its sheath.

And I plunged it into his gut so hard, the cross guard bruised my knuckles.

For a second, our eyes met. And something that might have been betrayal slid through Zathrian’s gaze. But it was immediately followed by a chilling acceptance.

“Do better than me, cousin. Be the ruler I wished I could be. Bring our people home.”

He closed his eyes.

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