Sara Larson - Defy

“The prince wanted to make sure she was punished to the full extent of the law,” I said, hoping the sudden nausea in my gut wasn’t apparent in my expression. “I told him I would find out.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know.” Deron waved me off. I turned away once again and this time he didn’t call me back.

I easily dispatched the first two prospective guards, barely even breaking a sweat, even though it was another sweltering day. Clouds sluggishly passed overhead, offering occasional reprieve from the relentless glare of the sun, but the air was thick with humidity. As the afternoon wore on, the sky grew increasingly somber and the line of men standing outside the ring grew smaller.

Finally, only two remained.

“There will be a fifteen-minute break, and then the final two will fight for the position of personal guard to the prince,” Deron called out when I beat the tenth man in under three minutes, knocking him to the ground with a hit to the back and then finishing him off with my wooden sword pressed to his exposed throat.

“Whoah, you’re good,” he muttered as he lumbered back up, stepping away from me warily.

I nodded in acknowledgment and then turned and walked over to where Deron stood talking to Rylan and Kai.

Rylan handed me a rag and a cup of water. I downed the water in one long draft while Kai continued regaling them with a tale of some lady’s maid he’d apparently seduced the night before.

“I’m out there working while you’re over here gossiping about the latest skirt you’ve been chasing?”

“Or undoing, as the case may be.” Kai grinned, unrepentant. “You shouldn’t work so hard all the time, Alex. You’d be surprised how impressive women find it when a member of the prince’s guard pays attention to them.”

I just shook my head, using the rag to wipe away the sweat dripping down my hairline. Kai and his women. I liked him well enough, but I was glad he didn’t know I was a girl. He was attractive, I supposed, taller, with his light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and his green eyes always crinkled at the corners from a constant smile. But if I had to pick the most handsome man on the guard, I definitely preferred Rylan’s warm brown eyes. His more subdued, quiet humor. The surprising gentleness he had with children and animals.

But then my thoughts strayed to the night before. Heat rose in my body as I remembered a different pair of eyes. Shockingly blue and —

“Alex?”

I jerked and blinked. “What?” Luckily, I’d been staring at nothing, instead of at someone. But I still had to fight not to blush.

“Are you tired? Do you need a longer break?” Rylan asked. I met his concerned gaze and quickly looked away. What was wrong with me? I had to stop thinking about Rylan and the prince or any other male like that.

“I’m fine.”

“We can wait longer if you need,” Deron agreed.

“What he needs is a good —”

“Kai, shut it,” Rylan cut him off.

“I said, I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.” I stormed back into the ring.

Rylan could read me better than I wanted to admit, because he was right, I was tired. The sleepless night was wearing on me. But I couldn’t afford to let it show. These last two men were the best from the previous rounds with the other guards. So far, the longest fight had lasted six minutes. One of them had to go longer than that, and the position would be his.

I took a deep breath and then nodded my signal.

The second-to-last man was only about an inch taller than me. He was thin, wiry, and he held the wooden sword loosely in his left hand. He obviously hadn’t made it this far on brute strength like many of the previous men. He must be more like me — fast, skilled.

A single raindrop splatted on my cheek, taking me by surprise as we lifted our swords up to our faces, acknowledging each other. I glanced up and noticed that the clouds had solidified into a gray tumult above us. Another drop hit my forehead and slipped down my nose as I looked back at my opponent. He wore a piece of fabric over his nose and mouth, hiding half his face from view. Above the covering, he had thick, ebony hair, eyes so dark they were nearly black, and olive skin. An unusual combination for the Antion nation. He must have been like me — someone with Blevonese heritage. The air felt charged as I stared at him, and a sudden chill ran down my spine. Something different — something I couldn’t put my finger on — hovered around him.

“Does the dust bother you?” I asked as we began to circle.

He didn’t answer.

I tightened my grip on my sword. So that’s how it was going to be. I didn’t want someone with an attitude on the guard with us, and I was more determined than ever to dispatch him in fewer than six minutes.

He finally lunged first, a quick jab that I easily deflected. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, he attacked and I parried, learning his movements, his method. He was good, but not remarkable. Not what I’d expected. I had a strange suspicion he was toying with me. It irked me that I couldn’t see his mouth; I couldn’t ascertain his expression other than from his dark, disconcerting eyes.

Raindrops continued to fall sporadically as the minutes wore on. A quick glance at Rylan confirmed what I was afraid of: He held up four fingers. Only two minutes remained to beat the masked opponent. Annoyed and unsettled, I began to attack him, rather than waiting, hitting him with a sudden frenzy of lunges and jabs. I spun and twisted and hit and hit and hit. More than once, I made contact, but he parried more of my blows than I expected, and the ones I did manage to get past his defenses didn’t knock him down. But the attack revealed a weakness on his right side; he wasn’t as fast at defending it. I faked to his left, and he took the bait. Before he could react, I twisted around and swung with all my might at his right side.

A killing hit. His eyes widened. He couldn’t get his arm around fast enough to block me. But just before my sword should have hit him, it collided with a barrier — as though I’d hit a wall instead of soft human flesh and bone. My arm vibrated from the impact and I very nearly lost my grip on the sword. Then, as though I’d imagined it, the barrier disappeared and the wooden blade hit his ribs. He groaned and fell to the ground as though nothing unusual had happened — as though I actually had knocked him to the dirt. I stood over him in confusion and shock, my grip loose on my weapon. It had all happened so fast, those watching probably didn’t even notice. But I knew he’d done something — something to stop my hit from hurting him. And then he’d pretended to lose.

He stood up and brushed himself off.

“Five minutes and twenty seconds,” Deron called out.

“Pity,” my opponent murmured and walked away as I stared after him. Despite the heat and the muggy humidity of the impending storm, an icy chill rushed over me, making goose bumps rise on my skin. Ignoring the final contender, who had stepped into the ring, I went over to where Deron stood watching. He tried to conceal the concern on his face.

“Is everything okay, Alex?”

“Who was that man?”

Deron glanced across the ring. When I followed his gaze, the masked contender was already striding away, not bothering to watch the final fight.

“He said his name was Eljin.”

“Is he a member of another palace guard? Does anyone know anything about him?”

Deron gave me a piercing look. “He’s supposedly in the army. You beat him, so why all the questions?”

I didn’t know if I dared mention my suspicions — that he was some sort of sorcerer. “I wondered why he wore the mask,” I finally answered, deciding to keep my thoughts to myself. If I had somehow imagined it and accused an innocent man of using sorcery, it would mean his death. “It was disconcerting and he wouldn’t answer me.”