Finally free of his weight, I pulled my legs in. Just as he tried to lunge at me again, I rocked to my back, and then I sharply shoved my heel at the center of his face. His nose spurted blood, and his hand flew to the injury. I didn’t care how badass and tough you were, a blow to the nose was enough to distract anyone for at least a second or two.
I tried to struggle to my feet, but my damaged ankle wouldn’t take any weight. My right arm, the one I fought with, was still numb from the elbow down. Worse than that, injuries, exhaustion, and blows to the head had stolen my balance. The world was tilting violently, and the edges were going black. If I managed to stand, I wouldn’t last long. I wouldn’t last long on the ground, either.
I didn’t want the battle to end with a corpse. But Darion was fighting to kill, and Titania wasn’t going to call it. If the challenge was going to end in death, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it be mine.
I pushed up to one elbow, almost sitting. “Even one-handed and flat on my back, I’m bettering you,” I spat at him through clenched teeth. “What kind of champion loses to a woman half his size?”
And then I laughed, a mocking, jeering laugh that carried to the crowd.
His face screwed up, and the parts I could see through the openings of his faceplate began to turn purple. Then he launched himself at me.
I watched him lift off the ground and then loom in the air over me for the briefest moment. I gripped Mort hard, the blade laying diagonally across my torso. At the last possible second, I threw up my injured arm to ward off the blow of Darion’s short sword, and I flicked Mort upright, aiming the tip of my broadsword at Darion’s throat and bracing the end of the hilt against the ground.
The Duergar crashed on top of me, his sword scraping off my arm like a knife across concrete. Then there was a deafening scream. He rolled off me, his sword discarded and both hands on the side of his neck. By design, I’d missed by a few inches, not quite running Mort through the middle of his throat. Blood gushed from between his fingers. He writhed, his screams dissolving into wet, bubbling noises.
My chest heaving, I watched in a daze as the blood streamed down his arm to drip in the dirt.
I could have finished him off, but there was still a chance he could be saved if there was a powerful enough healer nearby. I had no desire for his death on my hands.
I sheathed Mort and crawled over to Aurora. Then, with the legendary blade in my left hand, I forced myself to stand. My vision doubled and blurred, but I squinted and made out where the royal box was. I walked, holding back a scream each time I had to put weight on my broken ankle. With Darion’s agonized gurgles at my back, I limped over to stand before Titania and looked up at her, blinking as I tried to focus. She was the only one besides the champions in the ring who could end this battle. Either she called it, or I dragged my ass back over to Darion and killed him. He was still making drowning noises behind me.
Finally, taking her sweet time, the Faerie Queen of the Summer Court stood.
“The High Court declares the winner of this battle of champions.” Her voice carried through the silent stadium. She gestured at me with her open hand. “Petra Maguire of the Stone Order.”
The New Gargoyle side of the arena erupted in a deafening tidal wave of noise.
I shakily went down on one knee before the Faerie Queen, bowing my head. I even managed to stand up again, using Aurora for leverage. But that was all I had left.
The last thing I remembered was Emmaline running toward me, a glimpse of Lochlyn beyond, standing up at her seat with tears running down her face, and my father vaulting out of the stands and racing after Emmaline.
Then my knees buckled, and the world dissolved into darkness.
Chapter 28
AT ONE POINT I became aware of the sensation of movement and felt that I was being carried. My eyelids cracked open, and I could have sworn I was in Oliver’s arms. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming.
The next time I awoke, it was in a soft bed in a nearly dark room. There were quiet mechanical whirs. Warm humidity permeated the air, along with the damp-stone smell I associated with the mineral sauna.
I lay there, blinking in the darkness as the details of the battle slowly crept back into my mind. Overhead, I saw a canopy suspended by four posts on the corners of the bed. I recognized the bedroom where I’d spend the night before the battle.
With stiff movements, I pushed up to my elbows. I had to pee like nobody’s business. My ankle had been bound and splinted, and it hurt to walk on it, but it had already healed considerably.
When I limped out of the on-suite bathroom, someone was standing in the bedroom.
“Emmaline!” I barked. “Don’t be such a damn creeper!”
She rushed to my side, pulling my arm across her shoulders. “You’re not supposed be up,” she said with a fretting tone. “They’re going to kill me for letting you walk around.”
“It was that or piss the bed,” I said sourly.
Since my blood was flowing and some of the fog of sleep had burned away, every fiber of my being hurt. The worst of it was centered on the left side of my lower back, where my rock armor had split under Darion’s blow. It was like a line of burning needles driven bone-deep.
“Did he die?” I asked, letting her ease me back onto the bed.
“No,” she said. “But he’s not going into battle anytime soon.”
I let out a long breath as I settled back into the pillows and then winced at the pressure on my injury. I shifted to my side. Fatigue still sat heavy in my bones.
“I should go let the others know you’re awake,” she said.
I mumbled something unintelligible and then gratefully sank into sleep.
The next time I woke, the curtains had been pulled back, and pale morning light glowed in the window. I moved under the covers, testing the pain of my injuries. I still felt like shit, but a little less so than before.
The bedroom door pushed open a few inches, and Oliver’s face appeared.
“I thought I heard you moving,” he said. He came in and sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes searching my face. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I survived a plane crash.”
His head bobbed. “Sounds about right. Want food?”
Right then I realized my stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself.
“For the love of Oberon, yes. Bring me all the food.”
He left and came back with a tray piled with sandwiches. Just as I dug in, another head poked through the doorway.
“Okay if I come in?” Maxen asked.
I flipped my fingers, beckoning him inside, but didn’t stop shoving food in my face.
I swallowed. “Is King Periclase backing off now, or am I going to have to kick more Duergar ass?” I asked.
He grinned and then inclined his head in a little bow. “The High Court dropped Periclase’s petition on you, and even better, Nicole was able to demonstrate rock armor this morning to prove she has New Garg blood.”
I let out a relieved breath. “Periclase could still be her father, though.”
“Yes, but anyone able to form rock armor has enough New Garg blood to swear to the Stone Order,” Maxen said. “It makes it possible for her to stay.”