Page 126 of What Fury Brings
It nearly killed him, but he said, “All right.”
The gates were opened, and Sanos remained standing between the queen and Ydra as Olerra strode between the two armies alone.
He eyed her best friend, looking for some hint of concern or worry, but Ydra seemed perfectly relaxed. Did she know who the better fighter was? Had she seen his father in combat? Was she at any of those battles in Shamire? As Olerra’s second-in-command, she might have been required to stay behind and lead the forces here.
An overseer announced that the king and Olerra could each bring in two weapons. Sanos knew that meant his father would bring the Kingsword, a weapon passed down from father to son for generations, and a dagger, sheathed at his side.
Olerra brought in what she always wore, a sword and the whipblade.
He was regretting giving her his support. Losing her would destroy him, and losing her to his father would end him entirely.
Atalius said loudly, “I would tell you to leave the goddess’s powerout of this fight, since you’ve already got two weapons at your side, but if the rumors are true, you don’t have a lick of magic in those veins.”
Olerra’s comeback was immediate. “I’ve lost count of the number of Brutes I’ve killed just fine without it.”
The retort was good, but Sanos could sense her fury from here. His father had struck precisely where it would do the most damage. How did he know already? If he’d had spies in the palace, then how did they not know he’d been taken sooner?
“To first blood?” the king asked.
“To the death,” Olerra amended.
Sanos closed his eyes, keeping his emotions in check.
I will do nothing. I will stand here and show my support.
When he opened his eyes again, he made the mistake of looking at Glenaerys. She and her mother were both grinning from ear to ear, as though this turn of events was better than they could have planned.
Olerra’s suggestion was met with a pause from the king, as though battling to the death hadn’t occurred to him.
“Something wrong?” Olerra asked the king as she stretched her arms.
“I thought we were meant to be preventing war. Will your soldiers not attack the moment I kill you?”
“The Amarrans will honor the outcome of the fight. The winner gets Sanos. No matter what happens, the Brutes return home peacefully. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” the king said, loud enough for his troops to hear. “To the death, then. Brutish laws of combat.”
“You’re still upset about that rock? Or was it what came afterward? I thought the nudity was a nice touch.”
“Brutish laws of combat,” he repeated more forcefully.
“Very well. I will only use the two weapons I have brought in with me. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“And no biting or hair pulling. No groin shots,” the king said, as though perhaps she was unfamiliar with the full laws of combat.
If Olerra was insulted, she didn’t show it. “Anything else?”
“No breaks or reprieves. No one interferes.”
“Done.”
They both drew their swords, and Sanos crossed his arms in an attempt to still his nerves.
The king and Olerra stood in a makeshift ring lined with torches, somewhere just outside the walls, between the two armies. History was being made right there, no matter who won. The air was thick with it, so thick Sanos could hardly breathe.
His father struck first, launching forward and swinging with bone-crushing strength. Olerra raised her sword in plenty of time, taking the full force of the strike. Her arm trembled from the weight of it, but she held.
Sanos was mesmerized by her strength. He almost didn’t believe it wasn’t goddess-given. His woman was strong all on her own. She was large and powerful and beautiful.
