29. Lira
29
LIRA
M y world tilted as the sword pierced my side. Sharp torture consumed me. Bran pushed the sword in deeper, and my knees weakened.
Fighting against the urge to collapse, I locked them and jabbed my broken sword into his arm. Though the sword was only half its original size, it could still be used as a weapon. Grunting, he pivoted toward my injury. If I didn’t move the sword, he’d keep pushing until it killed me.
My head screamed not to do it, but I clenched my jaw, preparing to feel the most excruciating pain of my life. I stepped away from the sword, freeing myself. It felt as if I were being sliced open again, and bile churned upward from my stomach.
Blood spilled from my wound, and I tried to ignore my concern that an artery might have been severed. At this point, it didn’t even matter. Darkness clouded my vision as pain seared through me, but I stood ready to defend myself against the siblings.
“You had your pleasure; now it’s my turn.” Rona swirled her sword beside her without a care in the world .
In fairness, she probably had none. After all, Moira and Lorne were preoccupied fighting each other—which surprised me—so these two could focus entirely on me. They had their wings and magic, and I had access to nothing .
With my weapon broken, I tried raising my armor to block, but lifting it caused the injury to pulse more, and the world spun.
My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t use anything on my left side to help me, leaving that side wide open to more attacks. I had to find a weapon, but what was there in an open arena?
Rona took her time, enjoying the fear on my face. With how uncomfortably warm my body had become and the way my heart pounded, I could feel the fear in every ounce of my blood. I didn’t need Bran to increase my dread further.
I stumbled back, causing Rona and Bran to laugh, but I needed to buy time. The only thing I had going for me was that they weren’t flying and using their magic anymore, but that also meant they knew they had the advantage. They didn’t need to use their fae abilities to take my ass down.
I needed to do something … and make them irrational. That was the best chance I had of surviving. But how?
I heard the faint rattle of someone breathing like they were moments away from dying.
Dougal.
He had a sword and armor … which meant I could get a replacement weapon.
I kept my head straight, not wanting to give away my plan to Bran or Rona. If they suspected anything, they wouldn’t hesitate to fly over there and take the weapons before I got halfway there, especially with how slow I was. Each breath made me feel closer to death and increased my agony.
If I wanted to get to Dougal’s sword, I couldn’t make it obvious.
“What’s wrong, sunscorched?” Rona quickened her pace. “Are you hurting?”
“Nope, just taking a lovely stroll while bleeding profusely from my side.” Luckily, sarcasm worked since I didn’t mean the lie.
Still, the answer thrilled her, and she expanded her wings, ready to fly. She cooed, “Oh, that’s just the beginning. It’ll get worse from here.” She flew toward me, her sword pointed straight in front of her chest to stab me in the neck or shoulder.
I dropped so low that my butt hit the ground. Rona flew past me, missing me completely. My side screamed in agony, and I swayed from side to side. I needed to stand, but bile rose in my throat.
Fall to the side. Eiric’s voice popped into my head, startling me.
That alone had me toppling over to my injured side as Rona’s sword swung where my right shoulder had been. She stumbled forward, leaving her wings open to me.
I jerked to the right, with my broken sword raised high, and stabbed her left wing close to the base. Using my momentum, I brought my feet under my body and stood as she released a bloodcurdling scream. She crashed into the dirt before me.
Adrenaline pumped through me, taking the edge off my pain. I placed my right foot alongside her back and ripped the sword out. Her wing lay limp at her right side .
“You blasted wildling!” Bran screamed.
I balanced on my left leg, preventing myself from falling over, and Bran was on me. He swung his sword at my neck, and I ducked, the sword swooshing overhead. As he flew over me, I punched upward, hitting him in the stomach with the hilt of my sword. He grunted and crashed a few feet behind me as his sister stood back up.
Her injured wing hung haphazardly at her side, and her chest heaved. She jabbed forward like her brother had when he’d injured me. This time, I stumbled back, tightening my abs to keep myself steady. Though I’d evaded the sword, it wasn’t by much, and fresh pain exploded in my side.
Pushing through the queasiness, I kept my feet moving and spun toward her, jabbing her in the injured wing again since it was closest to me. This time, I cut through the base, and she fell to her knees.
Guilt knotted in my stomach. I hated what I was doing to her, but if I didn’t defend myself, I’d die a slow and gruesome death. If I believed I was in pain now, I could only imagine what torment they’d put me through for their own pleasure. At least, this way, they’d likely kill me faster.
“Lira, above you!” Lorne screamed, and the clash of metal meeting metal sounded erupted.
I looked up to see Bran dropping toward me. He held his sword in front of him, aiming for the top of my head. I shuffled backward, the dust billowing around me as he followed me, maybe five feet away.
I flung up my left arm, meeting the tip of his sword and altering the direction of his thrust marginally. Though his sword missed my head, his body crashed on top of me, pressing me down.
My head, wings, and back smacked into the dirt and sand with his entire body weight on me. My head throbbed and the air whooshed from my lungs. I struggled to breathe. If I didn’t get up, I’d die within seconds.
Though my side and ribs screamed, I rolled over, shoving him off me. I straddled him, yanking the sword from his hand, and lifted it, preparing to stab him in the chest. I needed this fight to be over.
Before I could do it, a body crashed into me. I held on to the sword as my side crumpled, and Rona sat upright to do the very thing I’d nearly done to her brother. As she raised the sword, I swung mine upward and smacked hers to the side. I rolled again, causing her to crash to the ground, and jumped to my feet.
Bran flew past me toward Dougal. No doubt he was snagging the sword since I’d taken his, but I couldn’t lose focus on Rona. She kicked up her feet, stood, and gripped her sword.
Our blades crashed together, and my body began moving on its own. My feet stepped in a graceful dance as I put distance between Rona and myself. I lifted my weapon over my head, an invitation to attack that she took willingly.
She swung for my chest, and I deflected her blade downward and kicked her in the stomach.
Bran landed behind me, the two of them coordinating an attack. My head throbbed from the earlier injury, and my heart pounded. It was two against one. I had no idea how long this last trial would last since Eldrin hadn’t announced it prior to us entering the arena. It could be hours or minutes, but I swore I’d been out here for at least half a day with how much agony I was in.
My hearing enhanced, and the sound of a blade slicing air caught my attention. I ducked and pivoted, not understanding why until Bran’s blade moved over my head. I stabbed him in the leg while punching him in the face, my left side burning as if the muscles were tearing apart, and I wobbled on my feet.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Rona drop to her knees and whip her sword at my ankles.
I jumped as my wings strained against the chains to help me balance, but the constricted movement made me tumble onto my injured side.
Rona aimed for my uninjured side.
Awkwardly, I jerked backward, avoiding the blade, but not enough. The edge sliced into my side, cutting a chunk of skin from my body. More agony swarmed through me. The injury felt more superficial on this side, but it was another injury to add to my growing list of issues.
I lifted my hips, focusing on the adrenaline and not the pain, and kicked Rona in the nose. It cracked, and blood poured down her face onto me.
Between the serpents, the Unseelie, and my own blood, I was covered in black and gold.
She took a few hurried steps back as Bran’s wings flapped.
I cut my head toward him to find blood dripping from a cut in his prison clothing. His eyes glowed.
My pulse quickened, and my chest tightened, constricting my airways. The blazing night fiend was using his fear-inducing magic on me.
He smirked, confirming my suspicion, then dropped his sword and soared toward me. He held out his hands, and I didn’t need to read his thoughts to know his intention.
He planned on strangling me.
Head spinning, I tried to breathe calmly. I wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss, my horrible headache, or my fear making everything swirl around me.
Still, I clutched my heavy sword as his hands met my throat. He forced me onto my back, and my head hit the ground. My vision started to go black from the pain, and his hands tightened on my neck, cutting off my air supply.
Instinct took over, and I kicked him in the nuts. His eyes widened, and his grip slackened. I moved to kick him again, but he crossed his legs, and I shoved him off me.
I stood, swaying, and snagged the sword. The weight seemed to have increased since I’d last held it. I wouldn’t last much longer. If I wanted to live, I had to end the threat now.
As I headed toward him, Bran rolled to his side and vomited. That was enough to sober me up. I didn’t want to kill him, but I couldn’t leave him like this; he’d just rebound and attack me again.
Heart heavy, I decided to do what needed to be done. I stabbed him in the side of the chest, making sure I missed his heart. I refused to kill yet another person.
He whimpered, and footsteps came from behind me, forcing me to glance over my shoulder once more.
Rona stalked toward me, one hand holding her nose and one wing dragging behind her. In her right hand, she held her sword.
I yanked the sword from Bran’s chest, the blade making a suctioning noise as it slid free. I didn’t bother wiping the blood from the end as I spun around on shaky legs.
My strength kept waning, which meant my time was limited.
Moira and Lorne still battled, and Lorne was merely defending himself despite Moira’s gray, angry face as she continued her onslaught .
My vision darkened further, and the pain was almost the only thing I could concentrate on. This had to end quickly.
Rona gripped her sword with both hands, her hands shaking as her own desperation showed through.
She turned and swung the blade at me with her entire body strength. I jumped back, causing my stomach to go concave and my shoulders to curve forward. Her blade sliced my shirt and my stomach, but either I was going numb, or the injury wasn’t deep.
Something took me over—something that both felt like me and didn’t—and I swiveled my sword and sliced her head from her body. Blood shot from her neck, covering my face and chest, and dripped to the ground.
The world stopped as the realization of what I’d done slammed into me.
I’d killed someone, and not by accident.
I dropped to my knees, a sob building in my chest, and Lorne screamed, “Stop! Moira, no!”
I tried to spin around to see what was going on, but my body responded slowly. It was like a fog had engulfed me, and all I could sense was the agony of my injuries and the guilt from what I’d done.
“This charade ends now,” Moira replied. “And the only reason I’m not killing you is due to our years of friendship.”
Finally, I turned to find the dusky-haired Moira stalking toward me.
Her body glistened with sweat, but there was a faint smile on her face, like she was enjoying the fight. Something a skilled swordsfae would do.
“Stand up, sunscorched.” She waited. “Give me the benefit of not killing a weakling.”
“You won’t kill me,” I slurred as I rose, but I couldn’t stand up straight. I hunched over. Worse, I couldn’t lift my sword, no matter how hard I tried.
“I suppose this will have to do,” she rasped then lifted her sword.
My heart sank, knowing that my life had only mere seconds remaining.