Marie fell. No, ducked. The blade shot by and nearly hit Gath. Adelus’s blade sliced for Marie’s head, but found only the space where it had been. Around and around she harried them like a sheepdog herding a flock so none had the space they needed. The crowd roared to shake the stadium when blades crashed.

Adelus scooted free of the crowd, “She’s mine!”

Alone at last, he lunged at Marie, his blades a whirlwind, he drove her back and pinned her against the edge of the arena. Nowhere else to run. He stabbed; a killing blow.

Marie moved like oil on water, a shimmer on a ripple, untouchable. Adelus’s blade pierced the wood of the arena wall and lodged.

Marie slithered by and slashed her blade along his belly. He yelped and leapt back. The crowd gasped, but there was no blood.

Marie showed him the flat of her blade. “Next time I use the edge.”

Adelus drew himself up and bowed to her, “I yield.”

The crowd hooted and jeered and applauded. Isabelle let out a shuddering breath and gripped the rail before her. One down, only two to go … or eleven, and Marie was breathing hard. Worse, her advantage waned the more foes she eliminated.

Marie resumed her song and took the battle to her foes. Isabelle could hardly follow the blur of bodies and weapons. Suddenly came an awful thud. Fully extended like a gymnast doing the splits, Marie’s heel rammed up through Gath’s chin with a blow that would have laid out a dray horse. He went over backward like a felled tree and landed hard.

The crowd gasped and cheered, but Marie came up limping. Somewhere in there she’d twisted an ankle.

Vexatious pounced. Her rapier zipped like a hummingbird, her line quick and long, darting in and retreating where Marie could not follow. Marie’s leg crumpled with every step.

Vexatious lunged and Marie twisted aside, but not fast enough. The blade sliced her shoulder and her colorless blood soaked her sleeve. The tip of her sword dipped and wobbled.

“Well, she almost did it,” Feng said.

“She’s not done yet,” Isabelle said.

She is lost. It is time for you to start negotiating your own future, Primus said.

Shut up. Isabelle splashed him hard.

Again the women clashed, and again. Vexatious opened a wound on Marie’s other arm. When Vexatious darted out of range, Marie sagged to one knee to relieve her ankle. Her face held no expression, but her body quivered in agony.

“Yield,” Vexatious commanded, her voice like a hunting hawk.

Marie pushed herself to her feet. “No.” She readied her defense.

“As you will.” Vexatious whipped her sword up in salute, then approached, testing Marie’s defense with the tip of her blade. Marie, wounded and weary, retreated and circled, making no attempt to retaliate.