Chapter 7 · The King's Seal

"They're letting us finish it."

Gareth's voice bounced off the wet stone between the cells. Valen didn't look up. He sat on the bench, hands loose between his knees, scars burning where the royal marks used to be.

"Tomorrow," Gareth went on. "Trial by combat. Winner takes the crown. Loser gets a pyre."

Valen kept his eyes on the floor.

"I know you heard me, Carlos." Gareth's boots scraped closer to the bars. "Or should I call you something else?"

That made Valen lift his head.

Gareth stood at the cell door now, hands wrapped around the bars, smiling. The kind of smile that came with a knife.

"The princess made a lot of noise," Gareth said. "Got the priests all worried. Got the Trial Master second-guessing. But here's the thing—they're more scared of a succession crisis than they are of the truth. So they're giving us one last fight. Clean. Witnessed. Binding."

"And if I win?"

"You won't."

Valen stood. Walked to the bars. Gareth didn't flinch.

"Your father thought the same thing," Valen said. "Ten years ago."

Gareth's smile didn't move.