Page 111 of The Death King

“His duty was to his kingdom?—”

“His duty was to his daughter.” He stepped forward again. “Fuck the kingdom. Family is everything. I would have burned the place down before I left my daughter’s side.” His fanatical eyes started to moisten with unshed tears. “The only way she would have been left alone would be if I had died because a thousand swords had pierced my armor. Only fucking then.” He breathed hard, gripping his sword as it started to shake. “I’m sorry for everything—but I stand by what I said.”

I stared him down, seeing the emotion burn in his eyes, his breath escaping as vapor because the air was still cold despite the raging fires. I reached for my sword and unsheathed it, never taking my eyes off his.

He gave a slight shake of his head. “Don’t do this.”

“You killed my father.”

“I did not. He did that himself.”

“But if you hadn’t come to our shores, none of that would have come to pass. My father would live. I would wear the crown of my people as their queen. I wouldn’t have ended up digging in the sand for seven years while a madman raped me. You took everything from me.”

His patience started to pass, and his anger returned. “You have no idea how horrible I feel?—”

“Fuck you.” I launched at him, swinging my sword with a speed I hadn’t thought I could produce.

He stepped back and parried it effortlessly, his eyes widened in surprise.

I was surprised myself.

“Please don’t make me do this.” His cape billowed in the breeze, and his handsome expression hardened into a vicious stare.

I lunged at him, striking my sword down to take advantage of his opening.

He moved quickly, his sword slicing through the air and meeting my steel with his strength. He was fast, faster than he’d been in our training sessions, and he showed me his full potential for the first time.

My reflexes were sharper than they’d ever been. I could see assaults quicker, anticipate attacks before they happened, dodge out of the way when normally I’d be too slow and take the hit. I blocked his hits and returned with my own. My muscles didn’t scream in agony, like they were three times their size even though my appearance hadn’t changed at all.

Back and forth we went, our swords dancing through the air and striking each other. I felt invigorated, felt like I actually had the ability to defeat him, to make this end for good, to avenge my father.

But then he made a flurry of movements so fast I couldn’t stop them—and my sword went flying.

His boot hit me in the chest, and my back hit the dirt.

The breath left my lungs, and when I opened my eyes, his sword was at my neck.

He stood over me, boot on my sternum, the blade touching my flesh. He looked the same as he had that night—like he lacked a heart.

I lay there, defeated.

“Yield to me, and I’ll spare your life.”

I pushed myself up on my elbows, not feeling the blade touch my skin because he reduced the pressure until I stopped. He removed his boot. I looked up at his angry eyes and stared.

“Do you yield?”

I’d yielded to General Titan to stay alive, but it wasn’t worth the cost of my dignity and my innocence. “No. I’m done being owned. I’m done being treated like a prisoner. I’m done being a pawn. There are worse things than death. So kill me.”

He kept the blade at my throat, his stare pulsating with anger.

“You’ve dedicated your life to reclaiming the throne that was stolen from you. Avenging the people who lost their lives to your conquerors. You used your trauma to justify trauma against others—trauma that you inflicted on me. You did the very thing to me that they did to you, but you expect me to accept it. Let me tell you right now—I will never accept it.”

He pressed the blade harder into my throat, almost drawing blood.

I didn’t flinch.

“Do what you must. I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same.”