Page 218 of Glow of the Everflame

I nodded and gently pushed him away. “Go.” He hesitated, and I forced out a sniffling laugh. “Go. I can’t very well intimidate anyone if I walk out there looking weepy.”

With one last look, he closed his eyes, dipped his head, and walked away.

I stood in the tent alone, swiping at my face in a losing fight against my emotions. My hands began to tremble with the reality of what I was about to face.

If it were any other kind of fight—if I could use weapons, or even just my fists. I could be fast, I could be scrappy. I could even be clever, when it came to warfare. I could endure. Why was this the one thing I couldn’t do?

I scowled at the pitched ceiling of the tent, imagining the goddess Lumnos looking down in delight at the chaos she’d created.

“You couldn’t have given meonebreak?” I shouted.

The sound of rustling fabric announced someone’s entry into the tent. Remis, I suspected, ready to start the match. I took a deep, slow breath.

But when I turned, it wasn’t the Regent who stood before me with jeweled sword in hand and a glare that promised murder.

My heart stopped.

I lunged for the tent’s entrance. Luther moved fast, catching me by the waist. He hauled my back against his chest and raised the Sword of Corbois to my throat.

I thrashed against him, clawing uselessly at his steel-strong skin and jamming my elbows into his ribs. He gave a few muffled grunts, but his grip refused to loosen.

His voice rumbled in my ear like a coming storm. “Change your decision, or I’ll kill you now.”

“Then kill me,” I gritted through my teeth. “If it’s so important to you, go on and get it over with.”

I flinched as the blade pressed deeper.

“I’m giving you the chance to fight for your life.”

“Why does it matter?” I shot back. “I’ll be dead either way.”

He spun me around and slammed my back against the tent’s large center pole, one hand gripping me hard by the throat while the point of his sword wedged beneath my jaw. With his broad form curling around me to pin me in and his pale eyes besieged with a torrent of thrashing shadows, he looked like a mighty angel of death, come to lay judgment on my soul.

His teeth bared in a snarl. “Change your decision.”

“No.”

“Do it.”

“No.”

“Why do you refuse to fight me?”

My defiance slipped, and my eyes broke away.

“Tell me,” he roared, fingers squeezing around my throat.

“Because it wasn’t a lie for me!”

Hot tears sprang up anew. I let my head drop back against the pole, shutting my eyes in shame.

“I can’t fight you, Luther. The thought of killing you...” I let out a shaky, defeated sigh. “I care about you too much. Even if you don’t feel the same.”

His grip on my neck loosened. I heard the sound of a sword clattering on the floor, then felt a soft forehead press against my own. His warm breath heated my lips as his body slumped against mine.

“Choose me anyway.”

When I looked at him again, his fury had vanished. His shoulders sagged, his sharp features melting into anguish. He looked exhausted and utterly, desperately broken.

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