He stepped outside his body for a moment and ordered it to function properly. Forcing it to do what it clearly didn’t want to do.

Somehow his legs carried him away from Fitzpaine before he could hit him again, but it was a near thing; one more good punch from Fitzpaine would have ended it.

James took a deep breath and skipped backwards as Fitzpaine came on. Then he moved sideways and around as Fitzpaine’s big heavy gloves swept harmlessly through the air. The swings were feeble now and dropping low. Fitzpaine could barely lift his gloves to James’s head height.

But don’t get overconfident again, James.

Bide your time. Don’t rush it. Wait for the right moment.

There!

Another missed punch had caused Fitzpaine to tip forward and lose his footing. His guard was down. He was distracted. James’s hands were both already coiled back and ready to strike, and now he let them go, hammering his right arm forward like a piston with all his weight behind it. It smashed into Fitzpaine’s face and the boy’s head flopped back like a rag doll. His knees buckled, he went into a low crouch, and before he could do anything else to recover James let fly with his left hand, coming down hard on Fitzpaine’s temple. The second blow flattened him, swatting him down into the sand where he lay still.

It was over.

James let his arms fall to his side, and stood over his opponent, feeling empty, barely aware of the cheering and calling from the stands.

Zoltan and the referee ran forward and rolled Fitzpaine on to his back. He was still conscious but bleeding heavily from his nose. He was fighting to focus his eyes and James hoped that he was going to be all right.

Zoltan slapped him a few times and splashed water into his face. At last he groaned and sat up. The referee quickly unfastened his gloves and rubbed the Fitzpaine’s wrists.

James glanced up at Ugo. There was a look of contempt in the Count’s eyes. This was not meant to happen.

James stooped down and picked up one of Fitzpaine’s discarded gloves. It felt heavy in his hand. He pulled back his arm and, with the last of his strength, he threw it up into the stadium, where it landed with a thud at Ugo’s feet.

Jana’s weather-beaten face twisted into a smile and she tossed something down to James.

He caught it.

It was the silver ring.

As the crowd cheered, Ugo stood up and disappeared into the shadows at the back of his platform.

Fitzpaine was standing, supported by Zoltan. He looked at James and tried to smile.

‘Well done,’ he said. ‘That was a good fight. And…’ His eyes dropped for a moment, ashamed. ‘I’m sorry.’