Chapter 49
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
There is only one possible reason for me to be standing here. Compromising my authority. Surrendering to the knowledge that I cannot kill my former best friend.
Which means I must let him kill me.
We’ve danced around this fight many times. He’s threatened, I’ve bitten back. But this is different.
I figured he would come for the omega, eventually. I’ve counted on it since that first agonizing rut after her arrival. I knew I would have to find a way to rid her of me before her heat hits.
“How do you wish to proceed?”
My former brother steps into his favorite ring—the dusty old one in his favored training tent. I’m not surprised he chose to bring this back where it all started—to the very place where we learned to fight, side-by-side
It’s tradition for the challenger to select the location. It makes sense that he would want to bring us full circle.
Public challenges to the Zortaire’s power involve much more fanfare. They occur once an orbit, on an anointed date. Anyone can approach me, then. Although few have bothered.
Private challenges, like this one, are much rarer. No one else has ever approached to offer their signet—and their life—on my platter. I wonder if anyone has told Sofi how this will proceed—that we go off to fight and only one of us will return, wearing both rings.
I wonder how she will feel when it isn’t me.
Rask pauses, silver eyes scanning the bare dirt floor. It’s clear he hasn’t planned this. Not truly. It must have been a snap decision of some sort.
“Three rounds,” he decides.
A fair, auspicious number. His expression darkens. “If you live that long.”
I nod slowly. “Alright. Weapons?”
He flashes a pale imitation of his usual smile. “Hand-to-tail.”
Even in the face of death, he’s a cocky bastard. Fighting me at all is a bold choice; doing it without a blade is just arrogant.
“Fine,” I agree again, bittersweet amusement soaking my center. The knowledge that, despite everything, I will miss him. Even if he won’t miss me. My lips almost curve up, thinking of all the times we used to spar. “Hand-to-tail.”
It’s a shame no one will witness this, actually. We were known to be well-matched, back in our training days. Our fellow cadets used to race to the ring when we went horn-to-horn.
Rask rolls his shoulders, spreading his wings. If he’d chosen an outdoor venue, those would be a huge advantage. In here, they’re more of an encumbrance. A thousand tiny bones for me to break, without offering him any real benefit.
More outright ego. I hope he learns to take better care of himself, if he’s going to care for our omega, too.
I unbuckle my sword belt and shrug out of my breastplate, shoving them into a pile at the edge of the ring. Rask drops his kilt, leaving himself in a loincloth and me in my breeches.
He steps into the middle of the three attached circles, assuming a ready stance. I follow suit, swallowing the many things I wish I could say. Settling instead for our Roktusian sparring vows. “On my honor.”
Rask glares into my eyes. “And your life.”