I grinned at Viggo. He couldn’t forgive himself for graduating on the same day as I was. He’d been certain he would leave the academy before me, but I had worked hard to advance quickly, pushing myself beyond my limits so that I would complete the program in time to graduate with his same group of warriors instead of the ones predicted to graduate in five months’ time. Despite the many classes we had come to share over the past year, I had never wrestled with him. The instructors were prudent about pairing up grapplers who were of similar size and build. But today was different. As a nominee for King’s Defender, I had to prove my worth against a seemingly stronger and more skilled opponent. I was a little nervous, but mostly excited. Viggo wouldn’t make winning easy.
I brushed the wet strands of hair from my face then pulled the cord out of my hair entirely. Re-braiding the soaking wet tresses was difficult, but I couldn’t afford to have it falling into my face when the fight began. Despite Viggo and my instructors’ suggestions, I had kept my hair long. In a sea of close-cropped, spiky, and even shaven heads, I was determined to be different.
My eyes strayed to the topmost tier of the coliseum. The rain and the distance didn’t hinder my sharp vision. A tent had been set up for the director, the general, and the king before the sky had opened up and poured down gallons of water over us. There were cushions arrayed over the protected benches and refreshments on short wooden tables waiting for our guests. The director sat leaning back against the cushions, but his bouncing knee betrayed his nerves.
General Halvar strode onto the tier with three men in tow, drawing everyone’s attention. He looked very much the same with his black hair, beard, and mustache—covering the unburned side of his face—crisp uniform, and shiny black boots. I felt the weight of his cold, mismatched eyes even from forty yards below. I shuddered. Even if he were an honorable man it would be difficult to meet his gaze.
Beside him stood a young man about my age with dark hair and a simple crown made of glass. His eyes were such a dark blue, they resembled sapphire gemstones. He wore a white uniform, similar to the general’s only lacking the medals, and carried a ceremonial sword. When he reached up to tug on his collar, I saw he was wearing white gloves. I would have thought him a proud, pampered prince if it wasn’t obvious how uncomfortable he was in the getup.
This was the mastermind holding the general’s leash? This man was supporting the crusade that resulted in the deaths of my family? It seemed improbable, but still hatred pooled into my chest like hot oil.
The general, the director, and the king sat on their cushioned seats and turned their attention to the mud pit below. The remaining two men stood at the entryway.
The director raised his voice to be heard across the coliseum. “Begin!”
I gave Viggo my undivided attention. It was time.
“Bring him down, Isa!” I heard Rainer shout.
Isa; strong-willed. That was what they called me now.
“Don’t let her defeat you, Viggo!” Asger’s deep voice rumbled. “Remember her right kick is strongest.”
“Show him your strength, Iron Maiden!” Brandt shouted.
I made a face in his general direction.
Viggo rolled his shoulders and held his hands out, his eyes focused intently on me. His clothes clung to him, showing every line of his torso through his white, now transparent, shirt. I wondered for a brief, terrifying moment if he could see my shape as clearly. Then I remembered it didn’t matter. Viggo didn’t see me as woman. I was the tiresome child he had been left with and couldn’t help but feel responsible for.
We began to circle each other. We would grapple without weapons first. If the fight dragged on past five minutes, daggers would be thrown into the pit. If the fight lasted another five minutes, swords would be added to the mix.
I pretended to rush him but he didn’t flinch. I smirked and kicked a glob of wet sand at his face. He ducked to avoid it and I tackled him while he was unaware. Or, at least, I thought he was unaware, but he was ready for me. He stepped to the side—quick, strong arms wrapping around my waist. He used my momentum to spin me around and toss me. I flew across the pit and fell onto the soggy ground on my hands and knees. The sand bit into my palms.
I rolled to avoid Viggo’s heel, which had been aimed at my back. A quick swipe kick to his ankles sent him sprawling to the ground beside me. I pounced. His hands closed around my throat. I gripped both sides of his open collar and yanked them across each other. We wriggled in the sand for a moment, each trying to choke out the other. Neither would relent so we were eventually forced to release each other, much to the crowd’s disappointment.
We leapt to our feet, shook off the wet sand from our arms and legs, and tried to catch our breaths. Viggo’s hands went up again, ready. I pretended to pick the sand out of my hair. He charged at me. Instead of going for his waist, I stopped him from reaching me by slapping both hands against his biceps. A knee to the stomach made him double over and I curled my arm around his neck. He was in my grasp for less than a minute before he flipped me over his back and slammed me into the ground.
I had time to take in a short, raspy breath before he kicked me in the side. I rolled several times in my attempt to escape his swinging foot, tasting sand and eventually blood. Once on my feet again, I noticed a dagger had been thrown into the pit. Viggo lunged for it but I lunged for him. A kick to the back of the head sent him sprawling onto his stomach. I snatched the dagger. He leapt to his feet and spun around.
Again we faced off, but this time, I had a weapon. I proceeded to jab at his chest and stomach, striking so fast my hand was a blur. He moved faster still, evading the blade. He blocked one of my thrusts, gripped my wrist, and cuffed me across the face with his free hand. I managed to wrench my hand free after he had punched me twice more, but by then the damage was done. My head spun. I swung the dagger, blinking furiously to clear my head and vision. The dagger sliced his fist when he attempted to hit me again. I felt it connect, then heard him hiss. The sound of his pain helped me focus. My vision cleared in time to see him shaking his hand out to the side, blood sprinkling over the sand. He circled around me again, wary.
I coughed and spat blood. My side ached. For a moment, I worried he had broken one of my ribs. It hurt to breathe but I was still standing—perhaps it wasn’t too severe. My face seemed to have its own pulse. The knowledge that my eyes would soon start to swell made me panic. I had to end this quickly before my vision was even more impaired. I flipped the knife over in my hand, gripped the sharp end, and made as if to fling it at him. He ducked, and that’s when I hurled my weapon.
The knife embedded in his thigh. His shout of pain was cut off by the side kick I dealt to his head. It was the right kick each one of my opponents had come to fear. He staggered to his knees and threw up into the sand. I walked around him and his vomit, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and yanked him back against me. It was easy to get a decent hold around his neck this time. I squeezed until he tapped my arm.
“Warriors!” the director bellowed. “The victor of this scrimmage is Isa!”
I glanced up in surprise as cheers echoed throughout the coliseum. I had forgotten about our audience. I released Viggo and knelt before him. His glowing eyes were half-lidded, his mouth partially open and still smeared with vomit.
“Viggo,” I said. “Are you all right? Did I kick you too hard? Say something.”
“I’m…” He squeezed his eyes closed and caught himself mid-sway. “I’m all right.”
“Open your eyes. I have to see your eyes.”
Finally, I received an irritated look and a frown. “I’m fine, Asta. I just need a moment to collect my scrambled brains.”
I laughed, relief flooding through me. “I’m sorry about your leg. Does it hurt? Here, let me—”
Viggo caught my hands before I could touch the blade’s handle. “Enjoy your victory. I can take care of myself.”
I bit my lip, uncertain. He shoved me aside then. I was forced to stand or topple over, so I stood and faced my peers.
General Halvar rose, drawing all eyes to himself. The smile he gave made me shiver. “Well done, Isa. Well done indeed. Now, kill him.”
The rain beating against the stone was the only sound in the coliseum. If I looked around I knew I would see shock, horror, outrage, maybe even anger. They were the emotions that coursed through me. Worst of all was Viggo’s reaction. He pulled the dagger from his thigh and held it out to me without a word.
I gave him an incredulous look. “Have you lost your mind? I’m not going to kill you!”
“You must,” he rasped. “If you’re going to be the King’s Defender, he has to know you can kill.”
I looked up at King Torvald. His brow was wrinkled in skepticism, and his gaze shifted between me, Viggo, and General Halvar.
How could he send his feral dog of a general overseas to murder innocent people, but he can’t seem to stomach the thought of someone being slain in his presence? I thought with annoyance. Still, the king’s indecision was advantageous.
I took the dagger and leapt onto the first level of seating. My peers made space for my landing as I jumped from tier to tier. Finally, my soggy boots thudded against the cement floor before the general. I straightened and took a moment to catch my breath. He met my harsh gaze with a coolness that told me his anger was bubbling just below the surface. There was a time when such a look would have made me cower and retreat. There was a time when pain would follow the giving of that expression. Even after all this time, fear still threatened to paralyze me. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to meet his gaze.
I’m not his prisoner anymore. I’m not the helpless damsel he stole from Kenshore and dragged across the sea. I will never be afraid of him again.
I walked around the general and knelt before the king.
“What are you doing?” the director asked. “You don’t have permission to—”
I addressed the king’s boots. “My lord, this academy has taught me every possible way to kill a man. I’m quick, resourceful, and efficient. Ask any of my peers. But that man in the pit is my friend. He has trained alongside me this year. Above all else, he’s innocent. I won’t… I refuse to slay him for General Halvar’s entertainment.”
I looked into the eyes of the king, and was shocked to see kindness. Such a fierce kindness I hadn’t seen since Bryn had tended to my injuries.
“I won’t force you to murder your friend,” he said, his voice soft as velvet.
“Sire,” the general said. “She has disobeyed orders. She must be punished.”
“Ten lashings with the cat-of-nine-tails should teach her some respect,” Director Endre said, eager to please.
The king rose. “If she is to be my Defender, she will follow orders from me, Halvar.”
The general’s jaw clenched. He bowed stiffly and said, “Yes, sire.”
It was almost too perfect. I had a dagger in my hand and the two men responsible for the destruction of my town standing before me. I glanced at the guards at the door. I would have approximately ten seconds to act before they could apprehend me. I glanced at the director. He was closer. He would be the one to kill me.
Fear pricked my chest, and the anger and grief I felt over my family were momentarily cast aside. When had I come to fear death? Hadn’t I wished it at one point? Gripping the dagger more tightly, I knew I should strike now. When would I have such an opportunity again? The king stood before me, and the general was still bowing… But in the end, I would only have time to strike down one enemy and I couldn’t force myself to choose.
King Torvald’s face softened when he looked at me again. “Rise a Defender.”
I did. The director handed me a plaque with the academy’s crest—a sword piercing a round shield with an eagle perched on top. I reached out to take it as if in a daze. It was cold to the touch. I looked up at the director when he refused to release it.
“Do you swear on your life and your honor to protect His Majesty the King?” Director Endre asked somewhat grimly.
I opened my mouth to speak, but paused, eyes flickering to Torvald. He stood patiently and watched the exchange, hands clasped before him. He seemed… happy. For me or for himself, I couldn’t tell.
“Do you swear on Dotharr’s great name that you will think of the king’s best interests at all times?” the director asked before I could reply. “That you will behave yourself with the utmost efficiency, decency, and respect that is befitting a servant of our nation’s leader?”
I tore my gaze away from the king. “I—”
“And do you swear by the skies themselves that no matter what forces threaten you or what circumstance you find yourself in, you will defend the king until your final breath?” Director Endre demanded. “Do you so swear?”
I swallowed hard and stared down at my shiny plaque. I gripped it until my fingers hurt. “I so swear.”
Finally satisfied, Endre released the plaque. “Then as the director of this fine institution, I declare you top graduate and King’s Defender. You are free to leave and begin your new life. Make us proud, Isa.” He clapped me on the back.
“Do excuse me,” I said before the king could speak. “I must tend to my friend.”
The king nodded. “The general and I have some business to discuss with the director, but I’ll send my chauffeur to your living quarters. He’ll take you to the royal hill when you’re ready.”
I bowed hastily and fled.