He went straight for my neck. I knocked the attack away.

He alternated stabbing at my right and left side, but each time his shoulder hinted which direction he was going.

He let out a frustrated grunt as I knocked aside another hit.

I lunged toward him. He stepped to the side and then brought his arm crashing down on my outstretched one. The weight of the blow loosened my sword, and it fell to the dirt. He swung at me. I rolled under the blow, grabbing my sword as I went. I ended up in a crouching position facing him. And just as I brought my eyes up, his foot launched forward, spraying my face with sand.

It burned into my eyes. I resisted the urge to rub them. Instead, on instinct, I dove to the side.

A sword thunked into the sand where I’d been crouching.

I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but that only made more tears appear.

I clamped my eyes shut. It was nearly impossible to hear anything above the din of the crowd.

There. A footfall coming from my right.

As soon as I sensed he was close enough, I whipped my foot out, tripping him. He thudded onto his back. I rolled the opposite way and got to my feet just as he did.

“I see Cion threw sand in your eyes too,” Rodric said, giving a clear indication of where he was.

I ignored his words and focused on his feet. I scrambled backward every time I heard him come forward. But I couldn’t let him drive me all the way to the wall. We were nearly back at the post Cion had been chained to.

My vision cleared enough to make out his shape coming toward me.

I lunged forward, hoping he wouldn’t be expecting an attack.

He knocked the blow aside and rammed his other elbow into my throat.

My back slammed into the ground. Sand burned my exposed skin.

I gasped for breath.

Rodric slammed his foot down on my arm, breaking my grip on my sword. He picked it up and tossed it away.

Between fits of gasping, I searched for another weapon as Cion had taught me. The slain tiger lay only a few feet from me.

Sand scraped my eyes as I scanned the area. Something glinted.

And I remembered what Cion had said about Remy. About how he’d gotten Rodric’s sword away from him by faking an injury.

Only I didn’t have to fake it.

“Please,” I gasped. “Please let me go.” I wrenched my arm away and slowly crawled backward toward the tiger.

Rodric laughed. “I don’t think so.”

I collapsed by the tiger’s body.

Rodric crouched near my head. “You may’ve survived the scorpion sting. But I’m master of the arena.”

“No, you’re not.” My arm shot out, grabbing the shackles lying just behind the tiger’s head. I swung them as hard as I could into Rodric’s temple.

Surprise flashed across his face.