‘I have Lord Rochant’s support. The others haven’t spoken yet. That places me in the position of strength.’

Her lips curled down as she considered his words, and then she hit him. Vasin bent double over her fist, then fell to his knees. ‘Do you see now, little cousin? I am the one in the position of strength, not you.’

Satyendra walked away from the empty throne and towards Yadva. However bad it would be serving Vasin, he knew serving her would be worse.

When Vasin was able to speak again, his words came out in a wheeze. ‘I do not see it.’

‘You need me to hit you again?’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’

If she attacked Vasin again, he would have to try and stop her. A part of him delighted in the thought. He wanted to test his strength, to enjoy it before it faded. He wanted them all to see.

Very slowly, Vasin pushed himself to his feet, and met Yadva’s gaze.

‘Alright then,’ she said, and swung for him.

Satyendra caught her fist before it reached Vasin. It made a meaty thwack against his palm. She snarled and pushed against him, but though his hand shook, it did not budge. An impulsive smile split his face. It was very un-Rochant of him but he couldn’t help it. I’m at least as strong as her!

‘Get off me!’ she snapped, but there was a hint of panic there, panic that tipped the odds even more in his favour.

Satyendra’s smile turned vicious, and he began to push back, forcing her arm down, one inch at a time. Perhaps he had been too hasty in his support of Vasin. A new road was revealing itself. I could take down Yadva in front of them all and become High Lord myself!

He pushed down on her and was rewarded with the sight of her knees buckling. Just a little more …

Suddenly, there was no resistance and she was falling backwards, pulling rather than pushing to take him with her. Her feet came up under his chest, lodged there, and kicked. The next thing he knew he was in the air, then spreadeagled on the floor, face down.

No! I am stronger! How is this happening?

Yadva was above him, one knee pressed hard into his back, and her hands clamped down either side of his head. ‘Withdraw your support.’

He flailed uselessly, unable to bring his strength to bear. The surging unnatural confidence evaporated, leaving him scared and in pain. He wanted to withdraw. In that moment, he wanted to very much. But Vasin knew the truth about him. If it came out, he was done for.

‘Wait,’ he gasped.

He felt the flex of her muscles, and his head hit the stone floor so hard he couldn’t see.

‘Withdraw your support,’ she repeated, raising his head again.

‘Hold!’ said Vasin. ‘Don’t kill him.’