Edward offered a weak smile. “I’m not a boy anymore, and you are an aged man.”

“Aged with experience spilling blood,” the king rasped. “I came to fight a queen today, but it seems I’ll be settling for a Green coward.”

Edward’s smile fell, and murmurs rippled across the clearing.

The Crimson King ripped his blade free from the ice, spraying shards at Edward’s eyes. The golden sword sliced the wind and Edward bent back, catching himself on his palm and shaking the debris from his face. The Crimson King raised his blade over Edward’s chest, gripping the handle with both hands, and Edward tilted as the blade plummeted. His gaze darted to where his own sword had flown across the rink.

The crowd leapt to their feet, screaming and waving flags as the Crimson King slammed Edward around the rink. The hilt of the golden sword struck Edward’s forehead and he tumbled to a knee, but he ripped a dagger from his boot and stabbed the king’s thigh.

A crackling growl filled the clearing, and Edward kicked off a ledge to slide on wood poleyns out of the king’s reach.

From her high chair, the Queen of the Pines wasn’t blinking. Her fingers gripped her armrests.

Edward staggered to his feet as the Crimson King’s smile returned. He tilted his neck from side to side, cracking it.

“That was good practice. But I think I’ll usher in my substitution now.”

Edward’s dark brows tugged in as the Reds shuffled apart. Someone was shoved through; wrists bound, mahogany hair disheveled. “I wish you good tidings in your fight to the death, boy,” the Crimson King said to Edward, and my stomach dropped.

Shouts rattled the benches as Cane lifted his dull, burgundy eyes, blinking against the bright sun through bruised eyelids. He spotted Edward standing opposite him on the rink, dressed in wooden armour and holding a wide, silver sword.

THE TENTH INTERRUPTION

THE TENTH INTERRUPTION

‘Twas a deafening silence that ruled the witnesses of the Renewal. Edward’s flesh was solid marble, his heart a hammer, his will, crushed glass.

Cane’s purpling bruises matched his deep gaze, which he locked on Edward.

The Crimson King’s golden blade was shoved into Cane’s fingers, and Edward’s sword grew heavy in his hand. Cane’s bindings were cut, and Edward took a step to meet him. But they did not come more than a measure of paces toward each other.

The ivory-haired Red Prince smiled cruelly from the rink’s edge, along with the rest of Cane’s brothers. A measure of the nobles laughed.

Edward cast Cane a bleak smile. “It seems they got us, Brother,” he said.

Cane turned the golden sword in his gashed hand. He glanced back at the Reds like he might hurl the weapon into their multitude. “I’m sorry, Green. I couldn’t outrun them.”