“Your guards are dead,” my dad says to Jag, “and there’s no one left to do your killing.”

“Is that what you think?” Jag says, adeptly slashing his knife at my dad. “One simple command and everyone here will tear you limb from limb.”

My dad fends off Jag’s blade with his own, and it’s immediately obvious that they are well matched. I anxiously scan the onlookers to see what effect Jag’s words had on them. I recognize a few of their faces from inside the great hall but have no way of knowing what Families they belong to.

Jag lifts his chin, his stance prideful. “The person who kills my son will be rewarded with my absolute loyalty and an enormous sum of money. You and your Family will be favored in all deals and all agreements. You will be fully supported by the Lions and be envied by all other Strategia.”

Jag throws a kick at my dad, who dodges.

My pulse races and my muscles tense the way they do before a fight. I’m positive an offer like that isn’t easily passed up, not with the money and influence Jag presumably has. I raise my knife, moving closer to my dad. But he catches sight of me and puts his hand out, indicating I should stop. And I do, bracing for the inevitable onslaught.

My dad slashes his knife at Jag, who leans out of the way. But Jag is fast, and he returns with a kick that connects squarely with my dad’s ribs, sending him staggering back a few feet. I take another anxious step forward, and again my dad gestures for me to stay where I am.

As though they heard my silent plea for help, Ash, Layla, Matteo, and Aarya come flying through the kitchen door. I can only assume the battle in the great hall is over and that it went in our favor, but none of that will matter if Jag wins this fight. My friends look from me to my dad and Jag, assessing the situation and moving closer, weapons in hand. But even with four more fighters, if this crowd turns, we’re outnumbered by at least ten.

Jag runs at my dad, getting so close that his knife tears through my dad’s shirt. Before my dad can recover, Jag advances again, this time nicking my dad’s shoulder and sending a line of blood down his arm. My dad returns with a punch, connecting with Jag’s jaw and splitting his lip.

Jag spits blood onto the grass. “Did you hear me?” he says in a commanding voice, glancing at the crowd. “I said kill him!”