Page 54 of Echoes of Fire

I advanced methodically, swords at the ready. He bared his teeth and lunged. Our weapons clashed in a frenzy, metalshrieking. His tail lashed for my legs, and I leaped aside at the last moment, bringing both swords down in a punishing overhead strike. He crossed his daggers to block, but the raw heat from my blades caused him to yelp. The impact forced him to his knees for a moment. He managed to roll clear, panting.

I glanced at Orla again, saw her lips parted, her fists clenched. She might’ve been bruised and burned, but her spirit flared bright as ever. I inhaled, felt the burn in the air coil in my lungs, and charged Zarvash before he could regain footing.

This time, I anticipated his tail strike and smashed it aside with the flat of one blade. He tried to slash at me with a dagger, but I slammed my other sword against his wrist, twisting it free of the weapon. His blade clattered away. He hissed in pain, eyes wild. He had only one dagger left.

He tried to pivot, but I drove my knee into his wounded shoulder, followed by a vicious elbow to his jaw. He crumpled with a snarl. I pressed the tip of a sword to his throat, chest heaving. The crowd drew closer, hunger on every face. The air smelled of sweat and scorched metal.

“Yield,” I snarled.

He glared, blood trickling from his lip. For an instant, I thought he might grab for his lost dagger and keep fighting out of spite. Then a flicker of fear crossed his face. His hands rose, empty. “I yield.”

The crowd erupted. I stepped back, my swords still at the ready, but the fight was over. Zarvash had lost, and he knew it. Anything but abject surrender now would mean certain death.

Pyroth stepped in, arms raised to quell any objections. “The duel is finished,” he announced, voice echoing along the carved ceiling. “By the old ways, Rath Flame Heart stands victorious.”

The small crowd erupted again, their cheers and jeers blending into a deafening riot of noise. I ignored them, my focus shifting to Orla. She stood at the edge of the onlookers, her eyeslocked on me, her face pale but determined. Selene was beside her, the medkit still in hand, but Orla’s attention was entirely on me. She gave me a small nod, her lips curving into a faint smile, and I felt a surge of pride.

She was alive. She was safe. And she was mine.

Zarvash climbed to his feet, his movements stiff and deliberate. His eyes burned with hatred as he glared at me, but he didn’t speak.

Pyroth inclined his head. “Honor the terms of your defeat, Zarvash. You will be bound to Rath’s judgement for a year’s cycle. If you break the vow, you risk exile—or worse.”

Zarvash spat on the stone near my feet but didn’t speak. He shoved past the ring of Drakarn, ignoring their jeers, and vanished down a side passage.

Heat pounded in my veins, adrenaline slow to fade. I looked to Orla. She limped forward, leaning on Selene, but her eyes were locked on me. Relief battled with lingering fury on her face.

“You did it,” she said, voice tight. “Idiot.”

“Is that my mating name?” I slid my swords into their sheaths, fighting the urge to collapse from sheer exhaustion.

Selene cleared her throat, rummaging in her medkit. “Can we tend to you both now, or do you plan on fighting for who keels over first?”

Orla grimaced at that. I gently placed a hand against her shoulder, guiding her toward the bench. “We’ll let you do your job,” I told Selene.

Orla squeezed my arm. “That was reckless,” she muttered, but a hint of pride colored her voice. “I’m glad you won.”

I gave her a short nod, not trusting myself to speak. The red haze of my anger still vibrated under my skin. We were alive, together. That had to be enough.

Pyroth approached. “You fought well, Flame Heart,” he said, his voice low and respectful. “The Forge has judged you worthy.”

I nodded, my chest still heaving from the fight. “And Zarvash?”

Pyroth’s lips curled into a faint smile. “He is bound to you now. For a year, he will serve you, as is tradition.”

I didn’t need Zarvash’s service. What I needed was his absence. But I didn’t say it. The rules of a traditional duel were complex. Zarvash was not my servant, but he would owe me. It was something I would keep in mind in the coming months.

I had a feeling I would need to.

Pyroth left us, and Orla shuddered. I caught her but stumbled and had to shift my stance to right myself.

“You both need the healing caverns,” Selene said. “Now.”

This time, neither me nor my mate argued.

NINETEEN

ORLA

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