Page 49 of Claiming Sarah

The black flag finally dropped from the tower, and the crowd went mad with bloodlust. In that moment, everything seemed to slow down. Not the fights, but my breaths. My feet. My heart. I was suddenly lightheaded, almost like the first time I tried pot on Earth, except I couldn’t speak. I tried, but nothing came except for a hoarse whisper.

I checked my hands for poison on the axe handle, but there was none. The rest of the fighters looked unfettered, save for one Ladrian man and a Gorrk. The three of us caught each other’s eyes across the fighting pit, and it was as though we knew we were fucked.

It had to be Grace’s wine. I wondered if she knew she had poisoned us. But in the moment, it didn’t matter. The poisoned Gorrk was netted by the woman, and she pounced on him as he struggled to get free of her snare. She knew how to kill him. Stabbing at his eyes with her dagger, he was dead in seconds.

The other poisoning victim was run through by a pike, then beheaded by Demophon.

Three down. Five to go.

As I tried to move, the other Doxude came my way. He carried a scimitar, more common to the poor of his race. The wealthy Doxude liked their hand cannons that were illegal for the poor to own.

I tried to move, but my body was heavy and slow, the opposite of my foe. He was on me in seconds and as he swung his scimitar, I thrust my executioner’s axe as best I could, but the weight of it knocked me backward. Mid-fall, my blade met his arm instead of his neck, slicing straight through his upper arm and wedging into his ribs.

The limb fell to the ground next to me and with it, the scimitar. The Doxude hissed at me, green blood spraying from the stump. I grabbed the scimitar, stood, and beheaded him.

The crowd became unhinged as I pulled my axe from the Doxude’s ribs. They had assumed I was dead and proving them wrong brought them to my side.

They chanted, “Exe-cutioner!”

Four and four.

I looked up hearing another on the approach. My speed was still taken from me, so I hoped my opponent was slow. A Ladrian man with a serrated sword. He had the look of a classed fool who thought he could make a name for himself in the pit. His hair was too perfect, along with his teeth and skin. He looked terrified.Has he ever been in a real fight in his life? Or did he think his master-at-arms had trained him well enough for this?

Behind him, the woman had fallen.

Three to go.

He swung at me. I used the blade to block and hook against his sword, yanking it down. Once he couldn’t use the sword, I punched him in the face as many times as I could until he stumbled backward, dropping his sword. He fell onto his ass and begged, “Please stop!”

I still couldn’t speak, but his sad begging stopped me in my tracks.Him or me. Him or me. Him or me.I lifted my axe, as he cried, “Please don’t kill me!”

An old voice croaked in my head,“There are no feelings in a fight. Only survival. Live, Cozz.”

I steeled myself for what I had to do. Suddenly, he grabbed a dagger from his loin leather and lunged for my leg. Then his head had grown a spear. He flopped back, dead. I looked up and saw the last standing fighter. It was Demophon. The other Ladrian man was dead, next to a Gorrk.

One to go.

The massive man ran toward me, as I tugged the spear from the beggar’s head. I threw the spear with all my might, but Demophon easily ducked it and leapt at me, sword first. I dodged the thrust, spun into his body so he was behind me, then jumped and whipped my head backward against his nose. It crackled loudly. He staggered back for only a moment. When I turned around, blood poured down the front of him.

He laughed. “Neat trick. You thought by running away, we’d leave you alone. You’re a coward, whoever you are. That’s why I saved you for the last. It wouldn’t have done for me to kill you at the start, because now, I’ve earned my place at Rex’s table and for my appetizer, I’ll eat your fear.”

My voice refused to come to me. But at least I could move. Demophon began to circle, so I moved opposite him.

“Nothing to say? I knew you were a coward the moment I laid eyes on you. All little men are cowards. Even those as muscled as you.” He thrust toward my torso again, I side-stepped. His preferred move. He assumed his long arms and strength would be enough to get by in this fight.

He’s never trained on a sword. Why would he choose it?

“I heard from the others you’re united.” He laughed again. “I’ll make merry sport with your consort when you’re dead.”

Another thrust and side-step, but this time, he ran forward on it, trying to intimidate me. As he ran by, he pushed me over the beggar’s corpse and I fell—I couldn’t dodge his mass, I was still too slow.

He stood over me, sword raised. “Any words for your widow?”

I dug around in the dirt behind me while I met his gaze. Since I still couldn’t seem to speak, I shook my head.

“A silent coward is better than that begging one. Perhaps you’re not as pathetic as I thought. I will tell your widow she had united well. Tonight when I’m inside her and she screams my name, I’ll remind her to scream yours, too—”

I thrust the beggar’s dagger into Demophon’s gut and dragged it across him, spilling his belly. He tried to bring his sword down, but his strength failed, and the sword fell to the ground behind me. I pushed him away, sweating, gasping for breath, praying the poison Grace had given me wasn’t deadly.

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