House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

20. The Legends’ Duel

20

THE LEGENDS’ DUEL

I can't stay away, no matter how much danger getting close to Nevan puts me in.

Maddox's warning plays in my head as the audience cheers again.

Not only do they clap their hands and yell, but the boom of stomping feet pounds all around.

One of the competitors spins around, waving at everyone, and I notice that it’s a woman. Her opponent, however, is a muscular man with broad shoulders and biceps nearly as big as the woman’s head.

Surely, this isn't a fair fight.

Nevan sits next to me again. “Don’t underestimate her.”

I've been so focused on the woman, I hadn't even noticed him returning.

He taps his brother on the shoulder. “Want to bet on this one? I’ll take the woman.”

“You’ll take her because you already know how lethal she is.” Maddox doesn’t bother turning around. “I might not know everyone like you, but I know Lyra.”

Nevan sighs. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten.”

Lyra takes long strides as she crosses the arena. Her fighting leathers are feminine, with a tight corset top that pushes up her cleavage and snug black pants tucked into matching boots that lengthen her legs. Charcoal-colored, fingerless gloves reach halfway up her bicep.

The bell sounds and, unlike the other battles, the crowd remains silent.

She waits for her opponent to strike first, which he doesn’t hesitate to do. He stomps toward her, fists raised, with a scowl wrinkling his forehead.

“Hello, Jareth,” she purrs. “I’m surprised you dared join this year’s competition again after last year’s loss. Ronan really kicked your ass.”

Jareth doesn’t respond. Instead, he lunges, aiming a blow at her face.

She dodges it easily. “Always so eager. Dare I say, a bit premature .”

He tries again, and she leaps out of his reach, landing in a somersault before rolling back onto her feet. After five more attempts, she yawns. Then her eyes narrow and she attacks. A high kick strikes his jaw first, followed by another kick to his stomach.

She stands, staring at her fingernails, as he holds his jaw. “Call it, Jareth.”

He spits out a mouthful of blood. “Bitch.”

“Call it,” she repeats calmly, which is somehow more chilling than if she’d screamed it. “No need to embarrass yourself any further.”

As he rolls to get up, she sighs and then kicks him straight in the balls. He squirms, writhing in pain for ten seconds before tapping the ground.

After four more rounds, none as thrilling as Lyra’s fight, weapons are allowed.

Nevan and Maddox make one more bet, with the younger prince winning. After which, Nevan taps my arm with his elbow and winks, then whispers into my ear, “He won’t keep betting if I win them all.”

I shiver despite the warmth of his breath.

He's right. Losing on purpose is a trick I've used on many resistance assignments.

After a few more battles, a man steps into the arena. “Unfortunately, one of our final scheduled opponents has fallen ill. Do we have any takers in tonight’s audience up to the challenge?”

Maddox stands in front of me and volunteers.

Nevan’s face washes of color. “Are you sure, brother?”

“The people love you for your charm, of which I have little. But, perhaps, they can learn to love me for my skill,” Maddox says before jumping the barrier and landing in the arena.

Nevan clenches his jaw, his body tense. “Well, this is fucking fantastic.”

A broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked hair and deep-lined wrinkles enters the arena. As he stretches out his arms and cracks the knuckles on his enormous hands, all sound in the arena ceases as if everyone is holding their breath all at once.

“Who’s that?” I ask.

“Sorren. He was head of my father’s personal guard for twenty years until, recently, he let his oldest son step into the position. He’s one of the best with a sword I’ve ever seen.”

“He wouldn’t dare hurt your brother, would he?”

“Physically, no, never. But losing in front of the entire crowd will crack my brother’s ego.”

Sorren tosses Maddox a sword. “I didn’t know you had the balls to get your ass kicked in front of so many people.”

The prince catches the weapon by its hilt. “Who says I’m going to lose?”

The men separate and ready their stances as the bell chimes.

Maddox doesn’t hesitate, launching for Sorren, sword out.

Sorren blocks the swing at his neck, a blow that surely would have been lethal had it hit. After meeting three more strikes with ease, Sorren attempts one of his own. His attack aimed for Maddox’s hip, but Maddox blocks it.

My nails dig through my dress as I sit up as straight as I can. “Your brother is good.”

Nevan nods. “He’s improved since the last time we trained together.”

“When was that?”

He pauses before answering. “Three years ago. I hadn’t realized it had been that long.”

Maddox and Sorren spar for a few more minutes, exchanging blows equally, neither getting close to an actual hit.

“You have skill, boy,” Sorren says.

The prince grins. “I’m no longer a boy, Sorren.”

Maddox’s swings, which had been half-hearted, turn into full-force blows. Sorren blocks the first few, but each strike pushes him back until he has nowhere left to go. The crowd gasps as the prince moves with precision and grace, his sword slicing through the air like lightning.

Next to me, Nevan is as still as stone.

Now, backed against a pillar, Sorren readies his stance. Just as Maddox is about to deliver a killing blow, Sorren ducks and throws himself out of the way, rolling onto his feet and raising his sword again.

A few spectators cheer, others scream in horror as Sorren attacks Maddox. The prince turns to see the attack coming, ducks, and throws himself out of the way. He rolls onto his feet, raising his sword again, just in time to block another strike from the older fighter.

Metal clashes against metal, ringing through the arena as Maddox parries, and soon it’s clear that Sorren is no match for the prince’s skill.

Maddox delivers blow after blow, each one coming closer to striking its mark until, finally, he knocks the sword from Sorren’s grip before resting his own blade on the man’s neck.

The crowd gasps in shock, then erupts into applause as the prince raises his sword in victory. Sorren sinks to his knees.

He looks up at Maddox before slowly standing and bowing low. “Impressive, prince.”

The crowd screams again as Maddox turns to face them.

Nevan tilts his ear toward his shoulder. “That was unexpected.”

“Do you think Sorren let him win?” I ask.

“No.” He shakes his head. “He has too much pride to ever fake a defeat.”

The man who called for volunteers returns to the arena. “Thank you all for attending. That concludes?—”

Maddox steps forward, cutting the man off. “Unless anyone else is up for a challenge. I can go again.”

The crowd hushes to low mumbles.

“I’ll do it,” a female voice says across the arena.

When the fae princess stands, a collective gasp echoes throughout the arena.

Ameerah wears leather pants and an oversized tunic tucked into her waistband. From afar, one might mistake her for a man, as the flowy material of her top hides her more womanly features.

Maddox stares right at her. “You’re sure, Princess?”

She works her way to the bottom row of the audience and leaps the barrier with ease. “I’m here to learn about your culture. What better way than to participate in such a thrilling event?”

“Very well.” He shoos the other man out of the arena. “No magic is allowed in the battles.”

No magic is allowed in Valazica , but he must have wanted to remind her not to bring out her natural gifts on purpose or by mistake.

She pulls two blades out from her boots. “Of course.”

“Do you always carry weapons with you?”

She tosses the daggers and, after they spin three times each, catches them by their hilts. “When I’m in a foreign kingdom, yes.”

The prince slides the edges of the blades together. “I thought your people wanted peace.”

“We do. It’s your kingdom I’m worried about.” She raises the weapons. “Are we here to chat or to fight?”

Maddox doesn’t bother answering before lunging toward her.

“This isn’t good, is it?” I ask as Maddox and Ameerah twist and turn, trading blows.

“The people won’t take a fae princess defeating a prince well,” Nevan says. “If she wins, they might attack.”

I exhale a long breath as I fidget in my seat. If anything happens to the princess, Valazica will be back in a conflict that has just barely ended.

Maddox twists away from one of her strikes and swings his sword straight at her face.

She blocks the attack with crossed blades, the clang of metal on metal echoing through the now-silent arena.

I hold my breath as they continue to fight, their swords ringing out in a deadly dance of steel. Unlike Sorren, the fae princess fights with grace, her steps and swings moving in an elegant choreography.

The spectators watch, quiet in anticipation, but a few cheers for Maddox break the silence. No one roots for Ameerah. Neither opponent backs down, and if the prince is fatigued from the previous fight, he doesn’t show it.

Time seems to move slower and slower until, finally, Maddox lands a powerful strike that sends the princess backward. She staggers but regains her footing quickly, spinning away from another attack and countering with one of her own.

Minutes pass as they trade blows. The prince continues to attack, but his movements slow ever-so-slightly. Most in the crowd won’t even have noticed, but when the princess smirks, it’s clear she senses his waning energy.

Ameerah doesn’t hesitate to use it to her advantage. Not only is she fresher than he is, but she is fae and naturally stronger and faster than a human like the prince.

After averting a strike aimed at her torso, she directs a blow toward his chest.

He’s too slow, and for a flash, I think the princess is going to stab him. But as the blade is about to pierce him, Ameerah stops, allowing his sword to catch up and meet her dagger, pushing her weapon from her hand.

She doesn’t even try to stop his sword as it points to her chin.

“Got you,” Maddox says through panting breaths.

The princess tosses her other blade to the ground. “Good job, Prince.”

She doesn’t drop to her knees as Sorren had.

The roar of applause nearly deafens me, twice as loud as when Maddox won the last battle.

The people in the crowd push to their feet, cheering Maddox’s name.

“She let him win,” I whisper, too quiet for anyone to hear over the screaming.

But when Ameerah turns to me and winks, I know she heard.

With the final battle of the night over, the arena begins to empty. We wait a few minutes, but Maddox never returns. Using a private exit reserved for official Solstice guests, Nevan walks me back to the castle.

As we near the side entrance, Nevan stops. “Come with me into the kingdom tomorrow night.”

“For what?” I’m both shocked at the sudden invitation and thrilled to have gotten it.

“A surprise.” He grins as we both stop in front of the door that leads to the wing of my bedroom.

From what I’ve gathered, the bedrooms on the floor below mine are dedicated to Solstice guests, making my use of the entrance believable. As long as he doesn’t follow me inside, he’ll assume I’m returning to a guest room—a fortunate coincidence that perfectly suits my cover.

I pretend to think about it. Although I’ve passed the playing hard-to-get strategy, I don’t want to seem overeager. “Will any fae brandy be involved?”

“Only if you want it to.” He quirks the corner of his mouth as moonlight dances in his eyes.

“As fun as our haunted adventure was, let’s avoid any magical liquor this time.”

He reaches out a hand. “Deal.”

I go to shake it, but he pulls my hand to his mouth.

He kisses the top of my fingers. “See you tomorrow.”