Bato righted himself and attacked Luntok again. Luntok parried and made a swipe at Bato’s face. Bato leaped out of the way, but not before the tip of Luntok’s blade scraped his left cheek. Droplets of blood dripped down the side of his neck. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was all he needed to distract Bato.

Wiping the blood with the back of his hand, Bato raised his sword to attack from above. Stupid choice. Luntok knocked the blade to the side, using the opportunity to close in on him, then drove the hilt of his sword into his stomach.

The surrounding crowd roared as Bato doubled over, heaving. Luntok backed off and let Bato pull himself together. Up in the stands, Imeria allowed herself a smug smile. The court could spite the Kulaws as much as they liked. Luntok had honor in him after all, and the fight was only beginning.

Though Imeria was no warrior, she could not help but marvel at the fight. Her son was stronger and more muscular than Bato, yes, but Bato had a different fighting style. Where Luntok relied on overwhelming his opponents with animalistic ferocity and brute force, Bato practiced an evasive, serpentlike technique. Imeria had watched Bato compete in the tournament the previous year. He had made it to the later rounds because he’d tired his opponents out, managing to slip away from their attacks with surprising finesse; only when their arms were quaking from exhaustion, too weak to swing their swords, did he fight back with full force and knock them out of their misery.

But when Bato came at her son once more, Luntok made him abandon his usual tactics. Bato was forced to attack again and again until he was the one gasping for breath like a dying fish. Luntok fended off his advances with ease. It was when the fight in Bato’s eyes began to dull that Luntok moved to the offensive.

He went in, first with a steep angle strike that Bato used all his remaining strength to deflect. The plea for surrender was there on the tip of Bato’s tongue. Luntok had to coax it out of him. Farther and farther, Luntok advanced. He didn’t stop until he had Bato cornered at the edge of the platform.

Bato’s sword hand shook. A hush swept over the crowd. Imeria straightened in her seat.

“Do you yield?” Luntok asked. From up in the stands, Imeria could make out his cocky grin.

Bato glowered. A beat passed. Then his posture shifted. “You’re too late, you know,” he said.

“Late for what?” Luntok demanded.

“Dayang Laya,” Bato said, loud enough for the spectators to hear.

Luntok froze. Imeria’s stomach sank. She resisted the urge to run down from the stands and shake him. Next to you, Bato Tanglaw is an ugly, humorless asp. Don’t listen to him.