Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 27

Kindra’s mouth ran dry as she processed King Leofric’s request. No, request was the wrong word.

Demand was more accurate.

The king leaned forward, that wolfish smile still on his face. “Well? Do you think you can, c ursebreaker ?”

“I—” She stopped short, biting back her initial response, which would have been, I will do my best. She forced herself to be calm and fought the waver out of her voice as she met the king’s gaze. “Yes, Your Majesty. I can. Who shall my opponent be?”

She knew his pick before he said it. “Lieutenant Ryle Mistron had you incapacitated within two minutes, I heard. I think a rematch is called for; don’t you think?”

Kindra could not bring herself to speak. Though she’d agreed with Ryle’s reasoning for being so aggressive in their match, it had still been terrifying. She simply nodded and bowed again. Then she turned on her heel and walked back to where Jasper, Tess and her opponent were waiting.

Jasper grabbed her hands. “You have to be fast,” he whispered very quickly. “That’s how you win. Don’t give him the chance to suffocate you. Keep him on his toes—they have to be grounded on their feet to wield, so just keep him moving. You have the strength. Hit him with everything you have. And the dagger—if you have to throw it, do so with a grip on the blade, not the hilt. The hilt is heavier because of the oil holder. It’s all in the wrist. Just—try to avoid hitting any organs.” He squeezed her hands, gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Show him just how powerful you are. ”

I’ll try. She moved away from him, out to the center of the ring, right in front of King Leofric. She faced Ryle, who gave her an apologetic look before falling into an open wielding stance.

That single look made Kindra’s focus snap into place, her nerves going from wild to eerily calm. Fury ignited inside her. Ryle was assuming she was going to lose. He was already sorry for the humiliation her defeat would bring.

Tess stood off to the side. “On my count,” she called. “Until one is incapacitated or yields.”

Kindra knew she wouldn’t be yielding voluntarily. He will have to choke me unconscious.

When Tess yelled, “Three,” Kindra struck first, an indiscriminate wall of flame flying across the ring.

Ryle cut through it with a knife of hard wind. Kindra jumped out of its path, and broke into a run, hands outstretched as she let her magic stream out of her.

Jasper had been right: if she was fast enough, and if she didn’t let up, Ryle did not have a chance to do anything other than block her fire or send sharp gusts of air towards her that she easily dodged.

Sweat already gleamed on his olive skin, his shoulder length black hair damp with it. She had surrounded him in a ring of fire. He thrust his arms out on either side, and from his body came a surge of cold, brittle air, extinguishing half of the flames and shrinking the remaining ones down to mere inconveniences.

Kindra swore as he raced towards her, leaping straight over a swath of burning ground. He shot out his hand, clenching his fingers into a fist, and yanked on the air around her. She felt her lungs constrict as she began to lose her air supply. No. She started to move again, kicking out a foot and sending a shot of fire towards him. He swerved out of its path, and as he did so, he lost his control, the air surging back into her body. Gasping, she continued her onslaught: move, fire, move, fire. He moved with her, ducking and blocking as he did. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and bewilderment—he clearly hadn’t expected her to last this long. It had been, what? Five minutes, now? She felt a trickle of pride, but it was momentary .

Kindra’s stamina was faltering—her body’s, not her magic’s. She’d been sprinting nearly nonstop since they’d started, and with the strain of wielding at the same time, her muscles were aching already. If she could just stop for a moment, anchor herself, she could probably finish him off with one blow, if she could make it big enough—

Suddenly, her feet were not on the ground, and she was flying through the air. Ryle had managed to get ahead of her and had swung a low current of air towards her, tripping her. He’d then brought the current underneath her, catapulting her across the ring. A scream ripped out from her involuntarily, cut off abruptly as she slammed into the ground. Something cracked—a rib, maybe? Her vision went black at the corners.

Distantly, she heard Jasper yelling her name. “ Get up !” he shouted. Some others from the crowd joined in. Others called for Ryle to finish her.

Blood filled her mouth—something was definitely broken, then. She coughed on it, scrabbling in the dirt, trying to get her hands and knees under her.

She looked up. Ryle was strolling casually across the ring towards her. He had a few burns on his face and arms. A few of them were bad enough that they bled, dripping red down his forearms. So she’d gotten him, too, at least.

“Do you yield?” he asked, stopping about ten feet away.

Kindra drew herself into a kneeling position, then started to stand. Her hand came to rest on her thigh—against her dagger.

Blood dribbled down her chin; her right side was absolutely screaming with agony. “Never,” she croaked, fighting tooth and nail to make her voice heard across the ring.

People cheered.

Ryle sighed, looking deeply sorry. “Okay,” he said, and then snatched the air from her lungs.

Kindra fell back to her knees. She gasped at nothing. One hand came up and clawed at her throat. Her vision blacked out entirely for a moment, her head swam.

She willed her eyesight to come back, forced herself to zero in on Ryle, standing so relaxed just feet away, so sure of his victory.

She pulled the dagger from its sheath. Her chest constricted, her heart thundering dangerously. Throw it by the blade. It’s all in the wrist. She gripped the blade in her hand, trembling with the effort. Her vision went black again, then returned, blurry.

She was so close to passing out. Seconds away.

Kindra focused her eyes as best she could on his shoulder. She figured her throw would go wide, so she aimed for his chest.

She mustered all her strength into her arm and threw the dagger as hard as she could before slumping forward to the ground.

Ryle let out a stunned, pained shout, and suddenly she could breathe again. Vaguely, she was aware that spectators were wild with cheering in the stands.

Head spinning, she pulled herself to her feet, gulping down air. Nausea threatened to overwhelm her, but she forced it back as she staggered over to where the Windspinner was crouched on the ground, her dagger buried three inches into his right shoulder. The dagger had flown wide, as she’d expected.

She summoned her flames, surrounded him with them, so close they licked at his skin. They were weak but did the job. He screamed.

“Do you yield?” she choked out. He didn’t respond. She brought the fire in closer, and he screamed again. “Godsdammit, YIELD!” she screamed—or rather, begged. I need this. You don’t understand. I need this.

And then, after painstakingly long seconds, Ryle nodded vigorously, still clutching his wounded shoulder. “I yield,” he rasped.

Instantly, she extinguished the flames. Healers were already sprinting towards them. One of them was Sala, who raced towards her with outstretched hands. Jasper and Tess followed.

Jasper’s face—she couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stumbled towards King Leofric and the Council.

He was clapping, that petrifying grin back on his face. The Councilmen were clapping as well, but they didn’t look nearly as delighted as he did. Some of them looked furious—Councilman Avis was one of those, and she saw fear written on more than one of their faces as well.

Good, she thought, satisfied.

She stopped before the king, swaying slightly on her feet. Pain and adrenaline made her reckless; she dipped low in a clumsy, smart-assed curtsy, her side smarting as she did so. “I hope you’ve been thoroughly entertained, Your Majesty,” she slurred, tongue weighed down by blood and agony.

For a second—a mere flash—he looked murderous, and she figured she’d just signed her death warrant. But he only nodded. “Oh, yes, Lady Kindra. It is a true privilege to witness a Firefury with such power as yourself in action. I have wonderful hopes for your contributions to this kingdom.”

She read the meaning in between his words plain as day. “Yes,” she agreed, knees threatening to give out. “So do I.”

He stood, as did the Council. “See a Healer,” he ordered. He glanced past her, voice turning cold, “If only so my youngest doesn’t have a heart attack.”

The second he began to walk away, Sala, Jasper and Tess were there. Helena and Emeline were running over as well, having been watching from the stands.

“My lady,” Sala started, hands reaching for her. Jasper was speechless, his skin blanched white, eyes wide with terror.

Kindra swayed again. “I think,” she said, already falling, “I need to lay down.”

She was unconscious before she even hit the ground.