LV | THE QUARREL
Though the man said nothing, his incandescent expression said it all: his face was ravaged, his eyes two furious pale points. A vein jutting out of his neck throbbed, his jaw shook, and his fists had blanched from gripping the weapon so tightly.
"Are you upset that your half-baked plan was foiled?
" she crowed, standing. She unsheathed one of her daggers.
She didn't intend to kill Aleksandr with it—after all, she wanted him to face court justice for what he'd done—but she didn't know what he was capable of.
He could have had more tricks up his sleeve that she was unaware of.
"All this planning, all this trickery behind the city's back.
.." She lifted her gaze to the crowd, which had all but dispersed.
They believed her. A few guards remained, still as statues. "It was all for nothing."
The ice next to Celvene snapped in half. She let her dagger fall into her sleeve, concealing it from the naked eye. To her slight surprise, she saw Aleksandr's attack coming before it happened, but thanks to the wet wood beneath her boots, moving wasn't as easy as she hoped.
She stumbled in trying to avoid his attack; that was enough for Aleksandr to grab her hood. He yanked her downwards, and she crashed to the floor.
"I was going to save this kingdom," Aleksandr said, a guttural growl that didn't sound natural.
A wild glint was hard set in his eyes. He dropped to his knees and held his blade to Celvene's throat.
She didn't move, swallowing against its cold metal.
"I was going to be its savior. Its hero. And you ruined that."
"You were going to be its end," said Celvene.
Thankfully, she'd managed to keep hold of her dagger in her fall, and Aleksandr hadn't noticed.
She slipped it out of her sleeve and waited for the right moment to strike.
"You're not a hero, Aleksandr. You are a criminal.
And I hope you rot in Aizasea's prison until the sun no longer rises. "
"You will not win, child. Even if I am taken down, Noriya's army is on its way now.
Zelphar knew you wouldn't allow me to take what's mine.
We will destroy this city, brick by brick.
" Aleksandr's lip drew up in a sneer, his stringy hair covering his eyes.
Drool dripped from his mouth, and his labored breathing sounded like a rabid animal.
"Aizasea will be connected to Noriya after its end, unified at last. I was simply the bridge. "
Ice gripped at Celvene's side before it melted into a fiery hotness Celvene wished she'd been able to forget.
An odd sensation—feeling the most pain she'd ever felt, while simultaneously feeling nothing at all—seized hold of her body, and beyond the warmth of her wound, her skin tingled, like she'd just been shocked. Aleksandr had stabbed her.
She clutched her side, groaning, but she did not let her dagger falter. Her breathing was heavy, and it felt as though every breath taken would be her last, but she did not let her resolve waver. For as long as she could, she'd hold on.
"You are a bridge that needs to be burnt," said Celvene, and she plunged her own dagger into Aleksandr's side.
Next, she brought her knee up as best she could, but considering Aleksandr had her pinned in an awkward position, she was barely able to move.
While Aleksandr howled in pain, instead of moving backwards as Celvene hoped, he tightened his hold on her. Celvene's movements were growing lethargic, and fast—if she didn't want to die right now, she needed to win.
With one hand, Aleksandr held his blade, still pressed against the skin of her neck.
With the other, he clasped his hand around her neck, wrapping it as tightly as he could.
Celvene choked and squirmed beneath his grip, and her vision spotted with black.
Fear perforated the edges of her mind, filling with red.
The crimson blood welling in her mind screamed at her to move, to attack, to fight.
She saw the battlefield where she'd ripped the dryad's throat out.
She felt the raw, unbridled mixture of wrath and panic—the satisfaction when the dryad's glistening blood coated the grass.
She relished in the comfort—the freedom—of knowing she could finally defend herself.
Before she realized what was happening, her vision had recovered, the vibrancy of the world returning in full color. Breathing became easy once again, and when she came to, she was on top of Aleksandr. Strength surged within her muscles.
He struggled under her might, and when she looked down, blood was pooling beneath them both.
Multiple stab wounds punctured his skin, visible even with his suit intact.
Beside her, the guards who remained had turned on one another.
Celvene imagined it was those who supported Aleksandr versus those who wanted Celvene to become queen.
But right now, her focus needed to be on Aleksandr.
Her hands were sticky and damp, warm from the blood that seeped from both Aleksandr's wounds and her own. Puddles of water dripped off the stage, remnants of her ice rune. Celvene rested the edge of her dagger against Aleksandr's neck and smiled. She wasn't even sure why she grinned.
"You can't kill me," said Aleksandr. A cough racked his body. Though he was drenched in blood, it didn't seem like he was any more tired. If anything, it was the opposite. "I am infallible, child. You're wasting precious time."
"Xavi, judicin, talni," Celvene hissed.
Peace, justice, pride. The motto of her people.
Had Aleksandr dared to pull his stunts in her home, he would have been tried and executed for his crimes.
His body would have been mummified and displayed in the palace cemetery as a reminder to others.
"These are my people now. And I will protect them with every fiber of my being. "
Aleksandr's hand flew up, seizing Celvene's jaw. She struggled to break free, keeping her dagger pressed against his neck as he yanked her face closer. The smell of sweat layering his skin filled her lungs.
"Pizora," he growled. He brought his head crashing forward, slamming it into Celvene's.
Pounding pain split through her skull in an instant, and she fell backwards, her dagger falling out of her hand—but not before she could feel it slice into Aleksandr's skin, clattering to the ground a second later.
Her vision was fogged with black, stars specking the darkness.
When Celvene's vision cleared, and she looked down, she saw blood speckling the blade.
Celvene couldn't do much against Aleksandr's strength, considering he was double her size. But she didn't give up, even as he swiped his dagger at her face. Each slice felt like a red-hot ember was being pressed against her skin, and she hissed out. Warm blood trickled down her face.
Though Aleksandr pinned down her arms with one hand, he hadn't pressed his body down on her body enough to restrict her movement. She wiggled in his grip, trying to ignore the pain that blossomed in her body. When she'd moved enough, she brought her knee up—right into his crotch.
Aleksandr's eyes widened. He cursed under his breath, and his hold on Celvene grew lax for just a moment—a moment Celvene capitalized on, and slithered out of his grip. She was coated in blood now, her breathing heavy.
And then the ceiling crumbled.