Kin of Kings (The Kin of Kings Book 1) (20 page)

“Point,” Sneary called.

She needs to stop letting herself get entangled or at least be more prepared for it.
Cleve caught her eye to see if she knew this. He made a gesture, sliding his right hand out of the fist of his left. She nodded.

Ashton once again tried to find a way in for his next point. She motioned as if to fend him off with her weapon, and he went for the bait, raising his sword in defense while swinging his fist at her. She swayed to dodge the punch and brought her weapon down upon his striking arm hard enough to take it off had she been wielding a blade of steel. Ashton clutched his arm and groaned.

Good, now his attacks will be slower with that arm.
Sanya showed she knew this during the next fight by allowing her right side to be more exposed as she upped her aggression. Soon one of her quick attacks found its way past Ashton’s defense, and she’d earned a victory.

Half of those watching applauded, a rare response to a duel.

It wasn’t long before Cleve got to face Peter. Their bouts were always the loudest and often the quickest because Peter had learned last year that the longer the fight went on, the worse his chances were. Grunting, Peter swung hard and fast, yet managed to keep himself from being too exposed. The only time Cleve had respect for Peter was as he fought him, for the man always demonstrated how he had killed so many of their shared foes in battle.

But eventually Cleve found his opportunity when Peter came forward too far. Cleve stepped in, blocked his attack, and kicked out Peter’s front foot. He was on top of Peter before the man hit the ground, his sword pressed against the underside of Peter’s chin.

“Point,” Sneary called before Peter could move and pretend Cleve hadn’t just had the opportunity to take his life. As Cleve began to stand, Peter shoved him. Cleve fell to the side but got a hand down and rolled onto his feet.

“Peter!” Sneary yelled. “That’s another point against you. Get back in line.”

His face turned red. He opened his mouth to speak but then stopped himself, no doubt aware that his words would earn him nothing but a lap around the field. Ripping up a handful of grass like a child, he stormed back to the line of warriors standing shoulder to shoulder.

Cleve’s next duel was against Alex. He wondered if Terren wanted him to duel the same people as Sanya to help prove that she wasn’t extraordinary when she failed to do as well as he did.

The first day, Cleve and Sanya’s last duel had been against each other. Cleve had tripped her for both points, and Sneary had yelled at him for holding back. He wouldn’t make that mistake again when it came time to face her, especially not with how dangerous she’d become.

But she wasn’t yet at Alex’s skill level. He and Cleve had dueled regularly last year, and both had improved equally in their time apart. Alex nearly matched Cleve’s height and, like Cleve, had spent his life training against master swordsmen. Alex knew how to defend against every tactic.

Their bouts often came down to whoever made the right decision at the right time, with Cleve usually claiming the point. His natural instincts were a blink faster, and many times that’s what it took.

After Sneary called for them to fight, they put on a show as their swords danced and clashed. Cleve took the first point, but Alex took the second. The third went on for what had to be the longest duel of the day. Alex liked to attack in flurries, then retreat. Five times in a row, Cleve almost took a glancing blow as he deflected Alex’s speeding sword.

Alex surprised Cleve by refusing to retreat when he usually did, taking a swipe at Cleve’s feet instead. Cleve jumped and kicked Alex in the chest.

He stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock. Then a smile turned Alex’s mouth, and Cleve smiled back.

They both returned to the line sweaty and sucking in air. They knew they would both be put in Group One, so there was little pressure for them to beat each other.

Alex and Sanya were called to face each other after lunch, when most of the other warriors had already repeated all of their duels from the first day of evaluation week.

As Cleve watched Sanya stand her ground against his friend, he mused how she no longer appeared to fight any differently than the men. She threw punches, knees, and even shoved Alex with her shoulder. Unfortunately, it only forced him back one step. He easily blocked her follow-up attack and countered with a strike to her thigh.

But Sanya scored the next point when Alex tried to entangle her and she managed to trip him. She gave his side a hard kick once he was on the ground.

He chuckled as he groaned and gingerly got to his feet. “That hurt.”

She grinned impishly.

During their final duel, Alex blocked her attack and closed the distance between them to entangle her once again. She attempted to trip his front foot like before, but he lifted it preemptively so the swipe of her shin went beneath it. Cleve had gone over this many times. When an opponent lifts his leg to avoid a sweep at his foot, his weight is unbalanced. In this case, Alex went with his forward momentum and came down a step closer to Sanya, putting force into his sword locked against hers.

She spun out and swiped his back leg hard enough to take it out from under him, putting him squarely on his ass. He was quick to roll, but Sanya’s sword was quicker as it poked him in the back.

“Point,” Sneary announced.

Alex came to stand beside Cleve wearing a bitter grin. “You taught her too well, you bastard.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“We’ll see how proud you are when she starts beating you.”

Everyone else finished dueling by early afternoon. Peter finished the day losing only to Cleve and Sanya, not letting anyone else score a point. Alex was in the same position, as he and Peter hadn’t fought each other.

“Last duel,” Sneary announced. “Cleve and Sanya.”

Sanya showed an unprecedented abashed smile as she shook her head. “Just earn your points quickly,” she said, not bothering to lift her weapon.

“Fight,” Sneary called.

Cleve didn’t move and wouldn’t until she lifted her training sword.

“Come on,” she goaded. “I’ve never been able to score a point against you, and I don’t expect it to change today. Just get it done.”

Cleve wanted to spit in disgust. “Don’t do that.”

She opened her arms and walked toward him. “Do it.”

The crowd showed their anger and disappointment with insults Cleve hadn’t heard since the first and second day.

“It’s pointless,” she tried to tell them, now looking at them instead of Cleve as she continued to approach.

He backed away to give himself time to think. But she just increased her pace.

He gave in and raised his weapon as he sighed. He jabbed it toward her stomach, but she suddenly jumped to avoid it and struck him in the hip with her sword.

“Point,” Sneary called out.

Completely emotionless, Sanya walked back to where she’d started and lifted her weapon to show she was ready for the next round. Cleve was incredulous, though many of the men watching laughed and applauded.

“You’re really going to count that?” he asked Sneary.

“I announced the beginning of the fight, and she was the first to strike you. If anyone’s to blame, it’s you for treating her differently than you would another opponent. The only reason I’m not making you run a lap is because this is the last duel and I don’t want to wait for you to return.”

Sneaky woman.

“All right, Sanya. You can have your point. But only because it’ll be the last you ever score against me.”

The audience hooted and whistled, ready for a show. Sanya smirked.

“Fight.”

Cleve rushed and leapt at her. She blocked his first attack, but the force of it caused her to stumble. He tried to take his point quickly, chasing after her. But she regained her footing as she deflected his next attack, and soon she was on the offensive. She got too eager, though, thrusting when she thought she saw her opportunity.

Cleve batted away her thrust hard enough to take the sword out of her hand and drive it into the grass. It stuck there, wobbling but managing to stay. A few of the warriors laughed at the odd sight.

“Point,” Sneary said.

But Cleve felt no better. He’d lost his first point ever in a duel during evaluation week. His perfect record stained. It felt almost like the time he’d ruined his first bastial steel sword back in Greenedge.

They fought for the last point, and this time Sanya kept more distance. She also gripped her weapon harder, he noticed when he failed to disarm her the next time she lunged.

She fought nearly the opposite of Alex, with single, calculating strikes and counterattacks. Eventually, she backed away and appeared to strategize. She used her speed to keep herself unharmed and give herself time to think, and her following attacks were clever as a result.

She set a pattern of slashing at his left leg every time she ducked down in a defensive move. When he noticed she was doing it, he set up his own counterattack. But she changed the strategy to lunge at his opposite leg, and it would’ve worked if he hadn’t realized it at the last moment.

After a few more similar exchanges, with both of them fatigued from the long bout, Cleve firmly blocked her sword and stepped forward in hopes of entangling her.

She tried to trip him as she backed away. He lifted his leg and stepped over her foot, then reached out for her, but she spun away from him. He’d taught her this very move, and he’d just seen it work against Alex, so Sanya had to know that Cleve expected it. She’d gone low against Alex in this spot, so Cleve assumed she would go high in hopes of outwitting him. He leaned back as far as he could.

Cleve watched her sword whizz by an inch from his face. He grabbed her weapon arm and yanked it in the direction of her momentum. She flipped and landed on her back. Still holding her arm, he pushed his sword against her stomach.

A surprising amount of applause followed. Cleve looked up to find a few other groups had gathered to watch his duel against Sanya. He offered his hand and she took it, letting him help her up.

She looked half irritated and half amused. “I was thinking one step ahead, and you were thinking two.”

“If only you weren’t thinking ahead at all,” Cleve teased. “You would’ve taken out my leg, like you did Alex’s.”

“Or if I was thinking three steps ahead in expectation of you thinking two steps ahead.”

“There’s never time for three steps ahead.”

“We’ll see, Cleve.” She smiled mischievously and walked off.

A group of warriors circled around Cleve, all asking to duel him now that the day was done.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As Basen watched the morning sun emerge from behind the long and twisted tail of the Fjallejon Mountains, he finally felt the return of some of the strength that Nick’s death had sapped from him. He stood at the eastern wall and lost his breath as the rays of the sun colored Lake Kayvol golden.

He was right to assume that the Academy’s wall was a much better place to stand than the doorway of Nick’s room as he waited for the day to begin. Sleep wasn’t entirely hopeless, but staying awake was the only way to avoid his nightmares.

“You’re Sanya’s friend, aren’t you,” a reserved voice said, sounding disappointed.

He turned to find Annah Varra looking back with an icy stare full of hatred, as if she’d caught him stealing her most prized possession.

“Basen,” he reminded her.

“Are you waiting here for me?”

“No,” he answered, confused.

She brushed back her silver hair and took a skittish step toward him. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”

“How could I forget the psychic who was apprehended by guards at Redfield. What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been coming here each morning because I can’t sleep in that damn house Sanya has exiled me to. Are you like her and the rest of them?”

“What do you mean?”

She came another step closer and huddled inside her cloak. “Do you think I am a traitor and I killed Nick Gallilo?”

“I’ve yet to find myself capable of imagining any man or woman murdering him.”

“So you never once thought it could’ve been me?”

“You’re a man or a woman, aren’t you?”

She folded her arms beneath her cloak. “How can you speak about such things so flippantly?”

It’s the only way I can talk about “such things.”

“What do you want, Annah?”

“Just to watch the morning sun rise above the land in peace.”

Leaning forward against the parapets, he gestured to his side. “I seek the same thing.”

She joined him and they gazed out at the sunrise in silence for some time. Basen found his breathing finally relaxing as he cleared his mind.

Then Annah’s sharp voice broke his serenity. “You might be the only person here who doesn’t suspect me. I’ve never despised being a psychic until now. It’s already enough that I catch their dubious glances every time I look their way. But I can also feel their distrust like heat.”