Page 279 of Heat of the Everflame

He was strong. Very strong.

Dangerouslystrong.

He was also dangerously skilled. It seemed all five of his brain cells had been devoted to the art of the fight. He wielded his strength with shrewd precision, using momentum to compensate for my greater speed. As we danced in violent tandem, trading parries and thrusts, my nerves rose higher with every blow.

But I had skills of my own. Though it pushed my training to its limits, I managed to land a few critical strikes in an aggressive flurry of attacks.

He retreated a step, looking amused. “A Queen who can wield a blade. I didn’t expect that.”

“You forget who my father is. Andrei Bellator taught me everything he knew.”

“And who do you think taughthim?”

I sliced a line at his throat, shifting at the last second so my blade only drew a minor nick. “Yield, Fortos.”

Blood trickled down his chest. He touched his fingers to it and smirked. “Never.”

In a flash, he jabbed straight for my heart. I spun away and crashed into the corridor wall, wincing at both the King’s smug laughter and my now-tender arm.

“Andrei must not have taught you everything. You’re making a mistake my men never would.” He rolled his sword in a lazy arc. “You’re holding back.”

I feinted left and sent him lunging for open air, a distraction to mask my unease at being so easily read.

I didn’t want to end him. But I needed to convince him Icould—then perhaps I might rattle him enough to comply.

My godhood howled to be let loose. I firmly clamped it down, feeling some innate push to do this on my own. Perhaps it was an homage to my father—using his training to defeat the man he’d served all those years. Or perhaps the King’s comments were getting to me more than I wanted to admit.

A quick strike landed a deep gash on his arm. He hissed at the blade’s sharp bite.

“My mother taught me everything sheknows, too. I can have a look at all those wounds you’re taking on.” I smirked. “Once you yield, of course.”

“Ah, yes. Your mother. Thehealer.”

Again, he said the word with a curious timbre.

His blade swung up and clipped my thigh. I bit down on the pain and lurched forward on my injured leg, slicing my sword at his unguarded side. Panic flashed briefly in his eyes, but he deflected surprisingly fast, and our blades locked in an X at his neck.

“Yield.”

“Never.”

His strength won out over mine, and I was forced to stumble back.

“Why do you speak as if she wasn’t a healer?”

His head cocked. His eyes trailed curiously over my face. Finally, he barked a laugh. “I shouldn’t be surprised. She was always good at keeping a secret.”

Pattering footsteps echoed down the hall—far too many to be just my mother and Luther.

The King’s grin stretched wide. “Time’s up.”

In a panic, I sent him hurtling backward with a burst of Meros wind. His head cracked against a godstone door, and his unconscious body slumped to the ground. I crouched besidehim, wrapping him up in dark vines and raising a veil of shadows to cover us both.

A group of his soldiers appeared at the end of the corridor carrying two hawks with scrolls clamped to their legs.

My pulse set into a gallop. If the soldiers came any closer, my sloppy makeshift illusion would be too obvious to miss.

“I thought the King was here,” one of them said.

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