a shift in the breeze.
I spun, swinging my swords, the tip of one slicking across some part of Milo’s body. He grunted and fell back. I swung the swords in a wide arc, the blades traveling in opposite directions. Air. I swiped only air. A terrible pain ripped through one of my wings, the appendage locking in place. The paralysis traveled down one side of me and I dropped, falling on a cluster of spikes. More pain. Thicker black dots and greater weakness.
Though I wobbled, I struggled to my feet. Any advantage I’d gained was gone. Must survive. Must save Ashleigh.
Bellowing with fury, the warlock hammered at me with his sword. Again. Again. And again. Metal clinked against metal. “Die already.”
I blocked every strike, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep going. My body was beginning to fail me, overrun by whatever poison had laced the spikes. My reflexes slowed.
Was I going to perish this eve? Denial screamed inside my head. You will keep going. You will keep fighting.
Every breath slashing like a dagger inside my chest, I blocked the next strike with a single sword. Milo grabbed my wrist, stopping me from swinging the second sword. A sword I dropped. Or rather, I appeared to drop. In reality, I’d pressed a second button, and the top layer of the sword thudded to the ground, revealing the dagger than had rested inside its belly.
The warlock loosened his grip on my wrist, thinking me unarmed. I angled my arm to shove the smaller blade in the area of his gut. Warm blood coated my hand. Shuffling footsteps sounded, and I knew he’d stumbled back, widening the distance between us. I sprayed more shards his way, and heard him grunt.
How much time did I have before his magic patched him up, allowing him to regroup?
At last my vision began to clear, light seeping through the darkness as I sweated out more and more poison. Relief cooled me down. And what perfect timing. Milo stood roughly a hundred yards away, pressing a hand to his bleeding belly. With a scowl, he launched into motion, heading straight toward me. He zigzagged closer, avoiding the ground spikes.
A plan formed. A risky one. Big risk, potential for big reward. So I did it. I let him come while pretending to still be blinded, purposely swinging my weapons at nothing. Midway, he launched a small rock toward the left.
Thud. I angled in that direction, following the sound as if he’d fooled me.
Close...
Closer...
Almost within range...
He threw another rock. The newest thud came from the right. Again, I angled the way he wanted. From the corner of my eye, I watched as he drew back his sword, preparing to deliver his final blow.
Almost—
Now. I flapped my broken wings with all my might and jumped. Ignore the agony. As he spun with his momentum, cutting oxygen, I tucked in my wings and dropped atop him. He crashed into the dirt, the spikes stabbing through his shoulders, abdomen, and both of his calves. Pinned.
At his cry of anguish, the crowd quieted, no doubt wondering what would happen next.
I stood before Milo, panting, as he struggled to free himself. Blood trickled from his mouth when he attempted to speak. To beg for the mercy he’d been unwilling to show me? To curse my name?
I was good either way. Do it. Finish this. Our gazes held as I lifted my blade. He opened his mouth to protest. I swung—
Just before contact, he vanished, leaving a pool of blood in his wake. A roar left me. I turned left, right, waiting for him to reappear...waiting.
“We have a winner,” the master of ceremonies announced. “The warlock left the field without blocking his opponent’s swing, an act that has disqualified him.”
Had Ophelia magically transported the warlock away, denying me my right to protect Ashleigh? Rage burned through me, the only thing keeping me on my feet.
The crowd went wild, many individuals jumping to their feet, waving their arms. Colorful fireworks exploded in the sky, reminding me of the enormity of what had just occurred. I’d done it. I’d won the tournament.
Urgency ripped through me anew, and I took a step forward, ready to run. My knees gave out as if someone had taken a hammer to the back of them. I fell, landing with one knee up and one down. By an act of my will, I maintained a tight hold on my sword, using it as a prop, resting my forehead against