“I’ll fight you in her place.” Ericen didn’t even acknowledge I’d spoken. He’d angled himself so his back was toward me.

Razel chuckled. “This isn’t a duel. No one needs to fight in her place. We’re just going to have a friendly spar.”

“With weapons,” Ericen said, and something dangerous glinted behind Razel’s eyes. This was a different Ericen altogether. The hard, angry one, who had looked like an imposter in his mother’s embrace.

“If you insist,” Razel said. “Sorry, Thia dear. He’s so demanding sometimes.”

Ericen didn’t spare me so much as a glance before stalking over to one of the fighting rings. I watched him go, scowling. Razel followed after the prince, the two Vykryn on her heels.

Someone stepped up beside me, and I flinched.

Kiva raised an eyebrow. “Jumpy. Guess that’s to be expected when you challenge death to a duel.”

I rolled my eyes. “She just wanted to spar.”

Kiva gave me a long look. “Don’t be naïve. Razel would have laid you out just so you knew she could.”

I gritted my teeth as we followed the group over to the sparring ring Razel and Ericen had entered. He had his dual short swords in hand, she a pair of curved, dome-shaped blades with small spikes sticking out from the edges of the grip. Jin moonblades.

Anyone else, I’d have said she used the moonblades because she liked them. But this was Illucia. Using those blades sent a message: I own these.

The soldiers who’d stopped to watch stood at Razel’s side of the ring, clearly staking their support.

“Shearen,” Razel said, indicating the blond guard. “If you would.”

“On one!” Shearen called. “Three, two—”

Razel lunged before he finished the second number. Ericen had anticipated it, catching the first strike of both her moonblades on one sword. They executed swift and merciless attacks, metal ringing in a shrill call. Razel clearly had an edge in speed, Ericen in strength.

People started to gather around the training ring, forming a circle. There were calls of support and whistles for the queen, Shearen’s voice rising above the rest. My guard pressed closer to my back, hand on the hilt of his sword.

The fighters struck and parried, twirled and dipped, each avoiding close calls from the other’s blades. Ericen barreled through his attacks like a man dead set on proving himself, while Razel’s every strike made it clear she aimed to injure. Her eyes gleamed with a strange dark fire, as if Ericen were a demon she fought for her very soul.