Chapter 37
Chapter thirty-seven
“Duck,” Atlas whispered, and despite my panicked thoughts, I still managed to obey his command. An arrow whizzed over my head right as I lowered it, and Atlas took the chance to go for another strike.
I jumped back, successfully dodging it but still finding his sword an inch from my nose.
“Block, now,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the battle cries around us. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I blocked his sword, my arms shaking under the pressure of his blade and the exhaustion overcoming me.
I couldn’t stop looking at his severed finger, my stomach sick as I put together why he had been silent for so long.
The king knew about the rings…and he hadn’t wanted Atlas giving me any tips on today’s event.
Enough so that he’d cut off his own son’s finger.
He went in for a side attack, his movements almost too quick to block. He hadn’t earned the title of Aemastia’s best swordsman for nothing, and despite Damon having outranked him in the past, today I was too withered to keep up.
“On your left,” he warned me again, and my movements were almost too slow to save my ear from being sliced clean off.
I was running out of breath, my boots slipping on the slushy ground.
The terror in Atlas’s eyes rattled me, his breathing even quicker than mine.
“I’m sorry. I can’t lower my sword while he’s watching me. ”
I snuck a quick glance up at the king. He’d moved from his luxurious seat to the edge of the stands, watching Atlas and me intently like he was taking note of every move. He’d already taken Atlas’s finger; what else had he threatened to do if he didn’t kill me?
“Then I can’t lower mine either.” With a fierce cry, I forced his sword back, ducking under his arm and rolling behind him. I swung my sword at his back, but he was too fast for that trick to work.
Icy slush soaked my back and our blades clashed once more, the scraping of steel ruthless on my ears. He knocked me back and I barely dodged another arrow that came flying past my shoulder. I pulled out my slingshot, firing off two quick shots at his ankles that he took without even flinching.
“Aim for my head,” he growled, swiping his blade at me again, leaving almost no room for me to escape.
“That could kill you,” I hissed by his ear, pushing past him to block another incoming sword.
“So could this.” He tried to stab me with a dagger, and I shifted so that it merely dented my armor. He staggered back, seemingly impressed that the attack hadn’t fazed me. “I can’t stop until one of us falls.”
The battle around us was starting to settle, and my heart sank when I looked around to see more Ivalonians on the ground than I had hoped. There were still a few standing, and the worst of the Aemastians seemed to be down, but the field was clearing fast.
“Then fall,” I said, jumping back from another blade. “I can make it look real.”
“That won’t work with me,” he said, his voice cracking as he glanced back at the king. “He won’t count me down unless I’m dead.”
Dead?
I got distracted, a swift strike of his hilt hitting me in the back before I could dodge it. He had the chance for another strike, but he couldn’t take it, the pain from the blow seeming to hurt him more than me.
“Finish it, Atlas!” the king shouted bitterly. “That’s an order!”
“Kill me,” Atlas said, his injured hand shaking around the hilt of his sword. “Marry Cedric and save your people.”
I couldn’t think, but my hand moved instinctually to my slingshot, raising it toward Atlas to keep the illusion of the battle going.
He just stood there. I couldn’t hear any more fighting around me, but I wasn’t certain if it was because the others had fallen or they had paused to see how our fight ended.
I drew the stone back, waiting for Atlas to move out of the way.
But he stayed still.
“Move.” I mouthed the word, my heart pounding in my ears.
“Shoot me,” he said softly, his sword raised but his grip loose. “You promised me you would win, remember?”
Tears gathered in my eyes, my hands stiff around the weapon as I imagined how easy it would be to take this prince out. He was right, I could kill him and win this, marry another prince, get my revenge, protect Mara. Everything.
But it would be nothing without him.
I misfired, letting the stone fly past him.
His eyes squeezed shut. Pain seared through his face as he dashed forward to raise his sword to my throat.
I didn’t fight back, letting him knock me to the freezing ground and press the blade against my burning skin.
I laid flat on my back, his knees pressed beside my legs as he hovered over top of my fallen form.
He had me pinned, but when he looked at me with those grief-stricken eyes, he looked like the one who was trapped.
“Since when do you miss?” he breathed, his voice choked as he wrapped his fingers around my shoulder, my hair soaking up the frosty snow and weighing me down.
“Never,” I said, giving him a broken smile. “I’m sorry, but I lied to you. I can’t win, not like this.”
He bit his lip, his hand shaking as he prepared for one final blow. He tried to look away, but his eyes kept pulling back to me, unable to separate the girl he loved from the flesh he was about to make bleed.
“I love you,” I whispered, a tear flowing free. “Take care of my people for me.” I closed my eyes, the echo of the king’s shout piercing through my mind as I felt Atlas sit up to thrust his sword.
“Finish her!” the king cried out, his voice hardly sounding human with the way he screamed. “Long live Aemastia!”
A loud clatter echoed, the sound of iron ringing against the frozen ground with the soft splatter of sloppy snow. I opened my eyes, the sun finally peering through the crowds as it haloed Atlas in the bright glow. He’d thrown down his sword, his injured hand stretched out to me.
“No,” he said, his tone gravelly as he pulled me to my feet in front of the kingdom he’d now betrayed. “Long live the prince.”