Page 120 of The Gods Veiling
More accurately beneath her.
I observe her closely. I need to study up on Valtrues because this appears to be a trait shared amongst hers. Mellcom and Jeremiah have always liked to push people. They’ve never backed away from a challenge. The guys just warned me that Gladian would do that to me, but really, it’s her doing it.
She’s not being overly ugly or bullying, but she’s clearly telling me she has every intention of keeping her standing at the top.
Whether I like that or not.
Do they all have a desperate desire to be known as the strongest? If so, why?
Do all of us in my Valtrue share a trait?
I don’t throw out my own threat, just my truth. “I don’t want your standing, Mara. You have nothing to prove to me.”
“This isn’t Oddian. That’s not how it works here. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. You’re going to have to face and do the same.”
Annoyance laces its way through me. “Seeing as I’ve only been here for like five minutes, I’m going to need you to give me some time.”
An understanding smile crosses her face. There’s not a thing comforting about it, though. “That’s a luxury I can’t afford you. Give our newest Defender a proper Gods Court welcoming, ladies.”
I exhale slowly as they each chuckle and the first two of them break away from their line.
Mellcom’s voice filters through my mind. He’s not actually speaking in the moment. It’s the ghost of his commands. Each order shouted from the sidelines the many, many times he’s stood there and allowed me to be ganged up on.
I let my anger toward him fester and fuel me once again. The fact it’s him who’s guiding me in this moment both sickens and grounds me.
My feet don’t budge from my spot as the two of them surround me. I adjust my grip on my sword and my eye catches on another that was deserted a few feet away. I remain in place, bouncing on my toes as they begin charging.
When they get to where I know they could almost reach me, I drop down and roll until my fingers wrap around the handle.
I have just enough time to raise a sword to block one strike and I swing out as hard as I can with the other. The one I hit screams as her knee makes a godawful popping sound that turns my stomach, and her leg gives out beneath her.
My body swivels as a foot heads straight for me. I kick my leg out and it connects with that girl’s other ankle. Her back hits the dirt as soon as I force myself to stand.
She doesn’t stay down long, and the other two that were standing with Mara join the fight.
I don’t think about anything other than my reactions and breathing.
The strikes from the men I’ve faced off with were harder, more painful, but these females are faster. They have more stealth and stamina. It’s taking more energy for me to stay in this right now than it ever did back in the arena at home. Their fluid and swift strikes are coordinated, precise, and would be deadly if these were real weapons.
I’d be mesmerized if it wasn’t me who they were facing off against.
They’re so fierce.
Even as I block two strikes from the front, another comes from behind. Around and around we go as I take a hit, deliver a hit. My muscles beg for a break, but each time I’m struck somewhere my armor isn’t protecting, the pain forces them to suck it up.
Don’t surrender.
One at a time.
Take them down one at a time.
Both my fist and the handle I have clutched smash against one of the girls’ noses. She shrieks as her sword drops from her raised hand, and she cups the bloody mess.
I twirl around and with all the strength I can muster in my nondominant arm, I nail the girl behind me at the junction of her shoulder and neck. That would’ve been her head had this been steel and not wood.
Thankfully, I don’t hear the crack of anything, but she’s out cold before she even hits the dirt.
A fist straight across my nose has me seeing stars and the tang of blood touches my tongue. I choke on a gasp, blink away the spots, and force myself to stay standing.
