Page 90 of The King of Frost and Shadows

Our blades crashed together, and my body began moving on its own. My feet stepped in a graceful dance as I put distance between Rona and myself. I lifted my weapon over my head, an invitation to attack that she took willingly.

She swung for my chest, and I deflected her blade downward and kicked her in the stomach.

Bran landed behind me, the two of them coordinating an attack. My head throbbed from the earlier injury, and my heart pounded. It was two against one. I had no idea how long this last trial would last since Eldrin hadn’t announced it prior to us entering the arena. It could be hours or minutes, but I swore I’d been out here for at least half a day with how much agony I was in.

My hearing enhanced, and the sound of a blade slicing air caught my attention. I ducked and pivoted, notunderstanding why until Bran’s blade moved over my head. I stabbed him in the leg while punching him in the face, my left side burning as if the muscles were tearing apart, and I wobbled on my feet.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rona drop to her knees and whip her sword at my ankles.

I jumped as my wings strained against the chains to help me balance, but the constricted movement made me tumble onto my injured side.

Rona aimed for my uninjured side.

Awkwardly, I jerked backward, avoiding the blade, but not enough. The edge sliced into my side, cutting a chunk of skin from my body. More agony swarmed through me. The injury felt more superficial on this side, but it was another injury to add to my growing list of issues.

I lifted my hips, focusing on the adrenaline and not the pain, and kicked Rona in the nose. It cracked, and blood poured down her face onto me.

Between the serpents, the Unseelie, and my own blood, I was covered in black and gold.

She took a few hurried steps back as Bran’s wings flapped.

I cut my head toward him to find blood dripping from a cut in his prison clothing. His eyes glowed.

My pulse quickened, and my chest tightened, constricting my airways. The blazing night fiend was using his fear-inducing magic on me.

He smirked, confirming my suspicion, then dropped his sword and soared toward me. He held out his hands, and I didn’t need to read his thoughts to know his intention.

He planned on strangling me.

Head spinning, I tried to breathe calmly. I wasn’t sure ifit was the blood loss, my horrible headache, or my fear making everything swirl around me.

Still, I clutched my heavy sword as his hands met my throat. He forced me onto my back, and my head hit the ground. My vision started to go black from the pain, and his hands tightened on my neck, cutting off my air supply.

Instinct took over, and I kicked him in the nuts. His eyes widened, and his grip slackened. I moved to kick him again, but he crossed his legs, and I shoved him off me.

I stood, swaying, and snagged the sword. The weight seemed to have increased since I’d last held it. I wouldn’t last much longer. If I wanted to live, I had to end the threat now.

As I headed toward him, Bran rolled to his side and vomited. That was enough to sober me up. I didn’t want to kill him, but I couldn’t leave him like this; he’d just rebound and attack me again.

Heart heavy, I decided to do what needed to be done. I stabbed him in the side of the chest, making sure I missed his heart. I refused to kill yet another person.

He whimpered, and footsteps came from behind me, forcing me to glance over my shoulder once more.

Rona stalked toward me, one hand holding her nose and one wing dragging behind her. In her right hand, she held her sword.

I yanked the sword from Bran’s chest, the blade making a suctioning noise as it slid free. I didn’t bother wiping the blood from the end as I spun around on shaky legs.

My strength kept waning, which meant my time was limited.

Moira and Lorne still battled, and Lorne was merely defending himself despite Moira’s gray, angry face as she continued her onslaught.

My vision darkened further, and the pain was almost the only thing I could concentrate on. This had to end quickly.

Rona gripped her sword with both hands, her hands shaking as her own desperation showed through.

She turned and swung the blade at me with her entire body strength. I jumped back, causing my stomach to go concave and my shoulders to curve forward. Her blade sliced my shirt and my stomach, but either I was going numb, or the injury wasn’t deep.

Something took me over—something that both felt like me and didn’t—and I swiveled my sword and sliced her head from her body. Blood shot from her neck, covering my face and chest, and dripped to the ground.

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