Page 54 of War Hour

I shake my head. “As tempting as that is, I think I’ll stay on the sidelines for today.”

Disappointment clouds Neith’s expression as his eyes flicker from me back to Sar. Flipping his sword in his hand, he circles me menacingly. “So, you’d make allies out of the usurper but discredit me because of a sibling rivalry? Doesn’t seem quite fair.”

Usurper? Was Neith calling Torryn a usurper?

My focus breaks, attention snapping from Torryn to the other part of what Neith had said.

Sibling rivalry? Who—

I peek over my shoulder at Sar.

It made complete sense once all the information was laid out for me. She had the same power as Conlen. Meaning she was of the Court of Wisdom. The three of them looked identical now that I was seeing them together.

Siblings.

When our gazes meet, Sar looks at me with a questioning glance.

Watching our interaction, Neith clicks his teeth, tsking. “Ah, Sarielle failed to mention that bit of information, did she?”

I ignore him, headed toward Sar, but it doesn’t stop Neith from taunting me as I retreat.

“I hope they aren’t keeping anything else from you. Dangerous waters you’re navigating.”

From the corner of my eye, I can see Neith switch gears, abandoning harassing me and instead picking up his sword and gesturing for his brother to start again.

I lean against the cage in front of where Sar sits, her eyes glued to the fight between Neith and Conlen. “They’re your brothers?” I ask, even though Neith has done everything to spell it out for me.

Sar sighs heavily, as if the question holds the weight of the world, and she is cursed to bear the answer. “Yeah,” she murmurs, tight-lipped.

“And Lord Bralas—”

“Also, yes.”

The space between us gets quiet as we watch Neith and Conlen orbit each other, blades raised high.

Conlen portals behind Neith, only for his brother to have predicted the move, slamming his sword into Conlen’s before the portal has even closed.

Neith pushes the younger boy harder, sweat dripping down his face. Conlen moves to tumble out of the way again, rewardedwith a clean slice across his forearm. Neither of the redheads flinches at the injury. Neither of them moves to stop.

Now, standing above his kneeling brother, Neith levels his blade at his throat.

“I yield,” Conlen cries out before dropping his sword, raising both hands.

Neith scoffs and bares his teeth at the boy. “We do not yield. Have I taught you nothing?” Turning from the boy, he steps away before gesturing for his brother to, once again, pick up the blade. “Again.”

The metal gate whines open and slams shut, announcing Sar’s entrance into the arena.

She marches to them, sand kicking up behind her. When Sar stomps right up to Neith, pointing into his chest, obviously snarling something at him, I tense. Waiting for the moment where I might be needed across the field.

As I stand on the sidelines, my fingers twitch as the two argue.

Sar bends to pull up Conlen. Neith grabs Sar’s wrist as she pulls up the younger boy, squeezing until her face scrunches in pain. As her hand releases its grasp, Conlen lands back on the ground. Whipping to yell at Neith, Sar yanks free, knocking his sword from his grip.

Sar holds her hands up as if fed up with them before turning away.

My body sags in relief until a malicious glint flares up in Neith’s eyes. I’m already moving across the field as he reaches up and wraps Sar’s hair around his fist before yanking her down.

Sar falls, head smacking off of the sword discarded on the ground.

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