Utu cried out. Luntok had slashed him across the outside of his thigh. When he drew back his blade, blood splattered over the stained surface of the platform. The wound glowed red⁠—deep and, judging by the anguished expression on Utu’s face, debilitating. Around Laya, the crowd grew rowdier. Never had Utu been wounded in a tournament like this before.

Bravely, Utu lunged for Luntok, but he couldn’t place much weight on his leg without crying out in pain. Luntok made the end brisk, bringing his weight down on Utu’s sword with two decisive strokes that brought him to his knees. He cracked the hilt of his sword into the side of Utu’s head for good measure. With a cry, Utu crumpled to the ground in a bloodied heap.

Luntok raised the hilt again. The flash of steel in the torchlight brought terror to Utu’s eyes.

“Yield,” he gasped, raising his palm to defend himself. “I yield.”

Luntok lowered his sword, relenting at last. On all sides of the platform, the spectators burst into worshipful applause. Laya threw her arms around Eti and hooted in delight. The fight was over, but Luntok did not take a moment to relish his victory. He stalked over to Utu like a tiger. Before Utu could react, he raised his sword and cut the boar-tusk necklace clean off his neck. Luntok met Laya’s gaze as he sauntered in her direction. When he knelt over the edge of the platform, she reached for him instinctively. He poured the necklace into her open hand.

“A token for you, Dayang,” Luntok announced and brought her free hand to his lips. Cocky bastard that he was, he didn’t kiss her knuckles like a gentleman. He turned her hand over and ran his lips over the tender flesh of her palm⁠—a ridiculous, sensual gesture that sent a naughty ripple through the watching crowd.

Laya forgot herself completely. Her brown cheeks flushed pink. She swayed on her feet, gazing up at him in rapture. She could not help herself; love turned her into an idiot. A helpless, moon-eyed idiot.

“Fool,” she whispered, so only he could hear.

“A fool for you,” Luntok murmured and released her hand.

By the time he rose, Vikal had fought through the tittering spectators. He crossed the platform and raised Luntok’s arm high in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he roared, “I present to you the greatest warrior in all of Maynara!”

Laya laughed as she watched Luntok drink in the glory. He raised his bloody sword to the heavens, inviting more applause. The drums resumed their thunder. Joyous shouting swelled above the music like a wave. How she yearned to join Luntok on the platform and kiss him for the entire city to see. So giddy was she, she might have done this, when a new figure broke away from the crowd.