Graevale (The Medoran Chronicles #4)

“Louder,” Alex ordered. “So everyone can hear.”

When Trell remained mute, Alex gritted her teeth and, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach, inched the Shadow Walker’s arms up further, stopping only when she felt the tension of the bone about to pop out of place.

An almighty scream ripped from Trell’s vocal chords, the sound cutting off only when she realised Alex had stopped before actually dislocating her shoulders.

“I yield, all right!” Trell bellowed. Then, again, in her own tongue. “I yield!”

And just like that, the purple flames surrounding them disappeared, revealing a stunned, silent crowd staring at Alex in awe—and fear.

Immediately she jumped up and backed away from Trell. The Shadow Walker slowly rose to her feet as well, crossing her arms to clutch her shoulders protectively, smearing black blood—hers—and red blood—Alex’s—as she did so. Guilt swirled within Alex, but then her hand throbbed with renewed pain as she made a fist to stem the flow from her wound, and she knew she’d done what she’d needed to. Because, as much as the odds had been against her, she’d managed to win. And that meant…

“Alexandra Jennings,” called Radek from the balcony, his loud voice making the silence surrounding them that much more noticeable. “Congratulations. You have won the challenge.”

More sound erupted then, but not from the crowd—from the balcony next to the elders, where Alex’s friends were hooting with glee. Even Caspar Lennox had a smile on his face, a downright scary thing to witness. Shirez, too, appeared relieved. And as for Soraya, now that the threat to Alex had passed, she appeared to be bunkering down for a nap.

At least one of them had their priorities right.

“She cheated!”

Alex was flung from the dazed shock of her victory to stare into the crowd, searching for whoever had called out. She couldn’t locate the source, but soon enough, more Shadow Walkers were shouting the same accusation.

“Silence!” roared Radek, and instantly the crowd quieted.

Despite his command, it wasn’t he who spoke up to defend Alex, nor did she do so for herself.

Instead, it was Trell who jumped to Alex’s defence, speaking the language of her race.

“She didn’t cheat,” the Shadow Walker said quietly, but in the silence, her voice echoed around the cathedral.

Tensing, Alex braced when Trell slowly approached and reached for her fisted, bleeding hand, holding up the ring for all to see.

“She merely used our own power against us,” Trell told her people. “A human shouldn’t so easily be able to access the shadows and resist them, and they definitely shouldn’t be able to command them. But I think we can all now agree that this girl is not just any human.”

Alex used her free hand to shakily swipe a lock of hair off her face, accidentally smearing blood across her forehead from a small cut at her hairline.

“Alexandra Jennings fought like one of us,” Trell continued, her voice louder now, determined. “Did she surprise me? Yes. But there are no rules that forbid a human from walking the shadows if they have the capacity to do so, therefore nothing she did can be considered cheating.” Trell cast her eyes up to the elders and finished, this time in the common tongue, “If you choose to disqualify her, I will not accept the victory. She won fairly and deserves the honour owed to her.”

Trell released Alex’s hand and the two of them stood side by side in unexpected solidarity to await the elders’ response as they conferred with each other.

It was Azalia who stepped forward to address the crowd, and Alex felt her stomach drop, fully aware of the female’s disfavour towards her.

“We stand by our decision,” Azalia called, prompting Alex’s shoulders to loosen with relief. “Trell Roven will keep her title as victor of the vatali targo, having successfully completed each stage of the trials, but Alexandra Jennings will be considered the winner of this unrelated match. You both fought well. Congratulations.”

Struggling to believe she’d actually done it, as the crowd began murmuring their begrudging acceptance, Alex turned to Trell. “Thank you. You didn’t have to defend me.”

“I could not have lived with the shame of accepting an unearned victory,” Trell returned quietly. “You are an impressive warrior, Alexandra Jennings. I hope we have the chance to cross blades again in the future.”

Alex actually managed a laugh as she replied, “If you can get your hands on another one of these rings for me, preferably with more than one walk available, then you’re on. If not, no chance.”

Trell’s face lit with amusement. “I’ll see what I can do.”

As mad as it was, part of Alex almost hoped Trell would be able to find her another ring. But that was probably just the high of the victory speaking, since she was certain once the adrenaline wore off and her aches took centre stage, she’d never want to see another Shadow Walker again, let alone fight one.

“Come with me, Alexandra,” said Shirez, who appeared at Alex’s side as Trell moved away. She shoved a wad of gauzy material into Alex’s bleeding hand and told her, “The elders will see you now.”

Alex tightened her fist around the material in an effort to staunch her wound. “Now?”

Shirez didn’t try and push Alex through the crowd, instead she just shadowed her straight up to the balcony. When they were in their new location, she simply said, “Yes. Now.”

With a quick glare at the prickly Shadow Walker, Alex straightened her fight-rumpled clothes, wrapped the wadded material around her hand in a makeshift pressure bandage and stepped towards the elders who were staring at her from their extravagant seats.

“You are full of surprises, Alexandra Jennings,” Azalia said as she approached. Her tone was caustic, telling Alex exactly how she felt about surprises.

“Nevertheless,” Saber said, a hint of respect in his uniquely pale eyes, “you have earned our ears. So speak, human, and we shall listen.”

And finally—finally—Alex spoke.





Twenty-Nine

“What do you suppose is taking them so long?” Jordan asked later that afternoon—much, much later.

Alex was pacing the balcony from where her friends had viewed her fight, with the three of them and Soraya watching her restless up-and-down wanderings.

“I wish I knew,” Alex answered. “They just said they needed time to consider everything before they make a decision.” She ran her hands through her hair in agitation, wincing when her wounded hand throbbed in protest.

“It’s been hours,” D.C. said. “What can they possibly need to consider? Aven is a bad guy who needs to be stopped. The end.”

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