Chapter 13 · The Prince in the Kill Box

The ice spear missed Valen's throat by two inches.

He rolled left, boots skidding on frost, and came up with his sword already moving. The guard who'd thrown it was reaching for another. Valen didn't give him the chance. He closed the distance, slammed the pommel into the man's jaw, and heard bone crack.

"Valen!" Eliza's voice, sharp and close.

He spun. She was three feet behind him, flanked by two more guards in steel-grey cloaks. They had short blades out, the kind you used when you didn't want to make noise. The kind you used to disappear people.

Raith stood at the edge of the arena floor, arms folded inside his black robe. He wasn't smiling. He didn't need to.

"Take them both," Raith said. "Quietly."

Valen's fingers tightened on the hilt. The crowd was still roaring, confused, half of them shouting questions at the judges' stand. Nobody knew what was happening yet. The masters wanted it that way.

Eliza didn't wait. She grabbed the wrist of the guard nearest her, twisted hard, and drove her knee into his gut. He folded.