Page 95 of Court of Lies and Deceit

Isera saunters away and disappears in through the door while her opponent is carried in after her.

After that, the White and Red Faction fight another battle, which once again ends with the White Faction as the winner.

Then it’s Galen’s turn.

My heart sinks as I watch him fight a fire wielder from the Red Faction. It ends with Galen on his back, his leg broken and his hands burned. The crowd dressed in red cheers as Galen is forced to surrender with a sword to his throat.

I can barely breathe as the second to last match is called. The White Faction against the Red.

That dread in my chest turns into a furious storm of panic as I watch the guy from the White Faction beat the girl from the Red Faction.

There is only one match left now.

The Red Faction has two wins.

The White Faction has three wins.

We also have three wins.

And the match that remains is between me and a member of the White Faction. Which means that whoever wins this match wins the entire game.

My mouth is so dry that it feels like it’s full of sand. I try to swallow, but I can barely get anything through the tightness in my throat.

It all comes down to me.

If I lose this match, we will be trapped here as the Unseelie King’s prisoners forever.

Panic and dread crackle through my veins like bolts of lightning as I stare out at the bloodstained sand outside the door. I am not a warrior. My magic is meant for stealth. For sneak attacks. For spying. For intimidating. For distracting an opponent while an ally strikes them down.

So how the hell am I supposed to win in a one-on-one fight against someone with actual battle magic?

“And now,” Rosea calls. “In the closest one-on-one battle game we’ve had in years, we will get to witness a thrilling finale that will determine who wins this round’s Great Games. Will it be the White Faction?”

The crowd dressed in white screams in affirmation and waves their banners high.

“Or will it be the Black Faction?” she finishes.

The rest of the audience, both the ones wearing black and the ones who previously flew red banners, cheer in encouragement. It’s so loud that it vibrates in my ribcage. But it does nothing to reassure me.

My hands shake and I have to wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs as I drag in a shuddering breath.

“Let’s bring in the fighters!” Rosea bellows. “Oleander Darkmane from the White Faction. And Selena Hale from the Black Faction.”

The crowd screams.

And the door swings open.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Ican’t even hear the roars of the crowd anymore because of how loudly my own heart is beating in my chest. Standing there in the middle of the packed arena, I stare at the male Unseelie fae who stands before me.

Oleander Darkmane is massive. Almost as tall as Draven. The muscles in his arms and chest strain against the white fighting leathers he’s wearing, the pale color somehow making him look even bigger. His long brown hair has been tied back in a bun, and his red and blue eyes are practically glittering with wicked anticipation as he studies me.

Two long daggers hang from his belt. But other than that, I have no idea what kind of attacks to expect. There is no way to know what his magic type is before the match begins.

My pulse thrums furiously in my ears as I stare at my imposing opponent. There is no way in hell that I will be able to knock him out. If I were to slam my fist against his skull, I would probably hurt my hand more than him. That leaves killing him, which seems highly unlikely to work for the same reason, and forcing him to surrender somehow.

Mabona’s fucking tits. This is never going to work.

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