Chapter 28 – Duel
90 15 min leff
MARCIA’S PERSPECTIVE
The crowd went quiet.
Jareth’s grip tightened around his hilt as we circled each other. He was taller, broader, older, more experienced. And from the way he moved, definitely stronger.
But strength wasn’t everything. Fighting was about tactics. Strategy. And timing.
It was clear he didn’t believe I could win. And that overconfidence would be his downfall.
I watched him. He watched me. Somewhere behind him, I caught sight of a few officers whispering to each other. Their expressions weren’t hostile, just skeptical. Curious. Waiting to be proven right.
Good.
I would disappoint them soon.
“Whenever you’re ready, General,” Jareth said, tone clipped but not mocking. “Ladies first.”
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I stepped forward, drew my blade, and struck without missing a
beat.
He was fast, parrying the blow with ease, the metal of our swords singing on impact. The crowd shifted. The circle around
gazes wide us grew tighter. No one spoke. They just watched, with anticipation.
I aimed for his side. He twisted away.
He brought his sword down hard, but I ducked and spun. The edge of my blade sliced across the fabric at his hip. Not deep. Just enough to tell him I could’ve. A silent warning.
I caught the flicker of surprise in his eyes. The crowd gasped, closing in further to see more clearly.
Jareth responded at once. A swipe toward my shoulder, swift and deliberate. I blocked, barely. The force rattled through my wrist, instantly turning into a faint ache throughout my forearm. I stepped back, steadying myself, my heart thudding in my chest.
The ghost of a smile formed on Jareth’s lips. Almost amused.
He lunged again. I let him.
But at the last second, I moved.
My foot hooked behind his ankle. He stumbled—not down, but
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(**) 15 min left
enough to give me room. My elbow came up sharply, landing against his chest.
Then I twisted and brought my blade up beneath his chin.
A hush fell over the camp.
His breath caught.
I could see the thoughts running through his head. The previous doubt in his gaze slowly replaced with respect.
He hadn’t expected that.
“Yield,” I said quietly.
Jareth hesitated. Then dropped his sword and raised his hands.
“I yield,” he said.
I stepped back, lowering my blade. My chest rose and fell, steady
now.
The crowd stayed silent for a long beat.
Then someone muttered, “One move? Really?”
Another scoffed. “He barely fought. It looked like he let her
win.”
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“She didn’t even draw blood.”
“I heard Dravic threatened his rank if he beat her.”
A low ripple of laughter spread.
I clenched my jaw.
It didn’t matter that I won fair and square.
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The seeds of doubt Ardin’s rumors had planted wouldn’t be easy to uproot.
Abigail, Laura, Quin and the other witches stood rigid at the edge of the ring. They shared glances, faces filling with anger. Abigail’s hands balled into fists. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“He was holding back,” someone whispered behind her.
“I heard he’s retiring soon anyway,” another added.
“That wasn’t a real fight.”
Jareth stepped forward, facing them. “I wasn’t holding back,” he announced.
No one answered.
He turned to me. “I issued the challenge. I lost. If you think I was coerced, challenge her yourself. But don’t insult me just
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Chapter 28 Duel
because you underestimate women.”
I didn’t move. Didn’t smile or thank him.
I simply met his eyes and nodded once.
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He nodded back and stepped away, retrieving his sword from the ground.
From the other side of the ring, I caught movement. Ardin Hale was still there, standing beside a few off–duty guards, arms crossed and posture still smug.
He would be leaving tonight, but couldn’t resist the chance to land one final blow to my image. The fifty lashes had clearly done nothing. He needed more.
“Is that it?” he called out loudly, his voice mocking. “One match? That’s all it takes now to prove merit?”
He looked around, eyes bright with mockery.
“No blood. No real damage. If he was so easily beaten, why was
he in command to begin with? I’ve seen Jareth spar. That wasn’t him.”
One of the men beside him chuckled. Another added, “You’d think they’d at least fake it better.”
The soldiers exchanged looks. Some nodded. Others looked
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uncomfortable.
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I turned away from them and walked back to my side of the ring. Marcus handed me a cloth to clean my blade, his mouth a hard line.
“They’ll keep talking,” he muttered under his breath.
I wiped the steel carefully. “Let them.”
“You shouldn’t have let him yield so early,” Quin said. “They were waiting to see blood.”
“They were waiting to see me fail,” I replied. “It wouldn’t have mattered if he bled.”
She stared at me. “Still. You could’ve driven the point harder.”
“I’m not here to put on a show.”
“But they think it was one.”
I didn’t respond. My gaze drifted back to the crowd. The elite guards. The old soldiers from my pack and my father’s comrades. The ones who knew his name but didn’t yet know mine.
They weren’t cheering.
They were doubting.
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And I could feel it in the air. Heavier than before.
One match hadn’t been enough.
But it was only the beginning.
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