Page 65 of Across an Endless Sea

She’s covered in blood, but so is her attacker, Lev—the Fomorian who groped me last night.

This must be her challenge. I’ve obviously entered near the end, as both of them are winded and covered in nicks and bruises.

Worryingly, it looks like Prae is losing.

A hand on my arm stops me from going any farther, keeping me in the shadows as the assembled crowd watches the fight.

Prae grunts with exertion, feinting a twist to the left. Then, in a vicious move no one sees coming, she raises her leg, kicking her opponent squarely in the nuts.

Lev goes down like a brick, his whole body contorting around his damaged manhood as Prae gets to her feet. The Fomorian attempts to block her, but Prae feints like she’s going for his balls again, then uses his distraction to drive her dagger up through his jaw and into his skull.

Her victory growl echoes across the room, but no one cheers.

They’re all watching in shock as she uses her other dagger to hack brutally at Lev’s neck until his head drops free. Prae grabs the handle of her original blade—the one still stuck through his jaw—and uses it to heft his head up into the air, showering herself in yet more blood.

Elatha’s slow clap echoes loudly over the sound of her ragged panting, and soon enough, the entire court joins in. It’s a hesitant applause. The audience can’t seem to decide if they’re supposed to be truly celebrating or if their king is being ironic.

“It appears my niece has defied the odds against her,” Elatha announces once the noise has pattered out. “The challenge is over. As per our laws, all that was Lev’s is now Praedra’s, including his ranks and titles.” He pauses. “Whether she can hold on to them is another matter.”

The threat in his voice is undeniable, and Prae drops the head to the floor. The thud echoes, drawing the attention of the would-be challengers. A reminder of what awaits them if they face her.

“Get out of here,” Elatha orders, before turning his attention to the body still bleeding out in the pit. “Someone clear that up.”

Prae bows once more before turning sharply on her heel, heaving herself out of the pit, and heading for the door. She doesn’t accept the handshakes or shoulder pats that are tossed her way, instead shooting them all frosty glares. I don’t blame her. I’m not sure I could accept the false praise of a crowd which openly would’ve preferred me dead.

The body is cleared away, but no one does anything about the blood. Seconds later, I realise why as thirty fae are forced through the doors, and forced to drop down into the pit. They look confused, but they quickly spot the Fomorian king and drop to their knees, huddled together. Most of them look browbeaten and resigned to their fate, and the few who don’t are staring, wide-eyed with fear.

The Fomorian king looks over his shoulder, black eyes fixing on me. A slow, sadistic grin lights up his face, and I struggle not to recoil.

That grin does not promise good things. No. It promises pain.

My hands clench in the fabric of my dress. The blood drains from my face as the warriors behind me shove me into the space between Caed and his father. The gathered fae shift uneasily at my appearance, and I can’t blame them.

“What is this?” I ask, proud that my voice doesn’t shake as I turn to my Guard. “Caed…”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he stares over the top of my head at his father, who nods.

Caed levels a bored glance at the assembled fae and raises his gloved hand. My heart thuds loudly in my chest as I look back down at the fae, who are now surrounded by a ring of six ghostly swords.

He wouldn’t.

Only he would. I’m sure he’s done worse before. I’ve just been sticking my head in the sand.

Some of my people have pressed their heads to the blood-splattered stone and started praying.

And then there are those who are looking at me, their wide, beseeching eyes pleading with me.

“Caed,” I hiss, my hand reaching for his arm, only to stop half-way as I catch the glee-filled look on Elatha’s face.

Because I know. I justknow.

This is because of me. Some punishment—either for refusing to bow, or for some other slight I’ve committed.

Is it because I was with Caed last night? Does Elatha suspect—as Prae does—that I have some influence over his son? Or has he simply become frustrated with my refusal to bow to him?

“If you do this,” I tell Caed, “I—”

But exactly what I would’ve threatened him with, I never find out.

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