Page 51 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
Bryn could scarcely believe it.
He was goingto win.
Even though victory meant killing a man.
He never saw the dagger Caldwell had concealed in his boot, nor the way the brute’s hand had been inching towards it in those final, desperate seconds. He did not see the blade flash free, only felt it, white-hot and vicious, as it drove into his calf. Bryn roared in pain, stumbling back and releasing his hold.
He barely registered the agony as he moved. Instinct took over. He dodged the slashing arcs of the knife, eyes locked on its glinting edge. Any pretence of honour was gone now; Caldwell had abandoned the rules the moment steel entered the fight. Bryn cursed the daggers he had left behind, too far away to reach. But it did not matter. He would finish this properly. He would not cheat. His father had raised him better than that. If he was to be king, he would win by the laws of their people.
The blade nearly found his skull. Bryn ducked and shoved Caldwell’s arm aside, spotting a narrow opening. He lunged, driving his full weight into Caldwell’s centre. The impact sent them both crashing down, and the dagger flew from Caldwell’s grip, disappearing into the snow.
Bryn was on him in an instant.
His fist slammed into Caldwell’s face.
In those blue eyes, Bryn saw the rage, raw and feral. The fury of a man being outmatched. The terror of a man who knew he was losing.
Bryn struck again, this time into his stomach.
Caldwell coughed, blood spraying across Bryn’s face, warm against the cold air. Bryn did not stop. He struck again, and again, each blow heavy with inevitability. Even as he fought, he whispered a prayer to the gods that they might show Caldwell mercy when they took him. Bryn had never wished death upon his own people.
But this was their way.
And in Caldwell’s eyes, beneath the anger, Bryn finally saw the truth settle in.
Caldwell knew.
He was going to lose.
Bryn lifted his fist once more, his heart tightening at the ruined, blood-smeared face beneath him. Just a little more and…
Pain exploded through him.
Sharp and piercing.
Bryn grunted as his arm fell uselessly to his side. He staggered forward, confusion knitting his brow. What…? Caldwell still lay on the ground, chuckling wetly, blood and spit bubbling from his lips.
Then another agony tore into Bryn, lower this time.
And another.
And another.
It did not stop.
He dropped to his knees, breath shattering in his chest as another blade found him. He twisted as he fell, crashing onto his back, the sky spinning above him. Only then did he see them.
Caldwell’s men stood over him.
Each of them held a dagger.
Each of those blades was slick with blood.
Hisblood.
Bryn’s blue eyes widened as they descended upon him, stabbing again and again and again, steel tearing into flesh with merciless rhythm. He could do nothing but watch as Caldwell slowly dragged himself to his feet grunting, battered, but very much alive.
Unbroken.
