I preferred Max the Sharpshooter and Nash the Unknown to Prophet and War Chief, but those names existed now as family names, marks of those who truly knew us.

Nash and I climbed into the arena and kept our stares locked on one another as we walked to Markus. Our people loved this nearly as much as we did. They loved that their war chief could take on their prophet, as well, when the kingdom considered me invincible. I wasn't. But I couldn't convince any of them of such a truth. That I was human and fallible like the rest of them. Coming back from the dead might have played a role in that. After my ascension to Prophet, stories like that couldn't be kept quiet. While I managed to guard our most important secrets, all of Skia Hellig knew of my greatest exploits within a year's time.

Markus smirked at each of us. "Don't cause too much damage. We're busy enough as it is."

"We can't worry about damages when fighting, Markus." I nodded at the warriors gathered around the arena. Their shields would protect the people and village alike. "That's their job."

He sighed and then lifted the necklaces holding our sealing stones. Nash and I grabbed them eagerly, ready to begin.

I fastened the silver chain around my neck and closed my eyes as I focused upon the clear stone hanging from its rungs. The fire of my power poured out from my body until heat from the necklace stung. The stone now glowed red against my skin that already started to pale in the darkness of our approaching long winter season.

Piercey and Elias created this incredible device together. It relied upon me using my own energy to bind my power, so no one could ever force me, but the chip at the heart of the stone helped me to not allow even the slightest leak of power while it was activated. I loved being able to train and spar with our warriors, regardless of whether they had a neural implant or not.

Nash bound his power in the stone as well, turning it a deep blue, and winked at me, already trying to unnerve me. Every year, he won the powerless sword fight against me, and every year I returned the favor once we fought with our power. And every year it infuriated me that I still couldn't beat him at both.

I narrowed my eyes and he merely smirked in return. He loved to tease me as much as he loved to fight me, and I supposed that was because they were two sides of the same coin. It still bothered me that he won at this too–the teasing and flirting. He knew I hated losing.

But I did love the look he got in his eye.

Nash's hands settled on his twin blades, looking deceptively relaxed, when he was prepared to strike in a fraction of a second.

My own smile broke through my forced frown and I snapped forward to cover it, not wanting to let him feel satisfied with himself once again. At least not with our swords drawn and a crowd watching.

No matter how many times I saw Nash draw his swords, I never got used to the rapid blur of blades. How anyone could move so fast without power amazed me.

Our blades clashed with a hissing promise of more to come. The crack of sword against sword erupted in rapid succession. The cheering began to die as our people studied the display of swordsmanship. I couldn't pretend the fascination was for the heavy arc or rapid thrust of my blade, but for how handily their war chief fended off the sword of their invincible Prophet. This was only one reason why all of Skia Hellig feared more than just my name, but also his as well.

I understood. Watching Nash fight mesmerized me too.

I rolled off my shoulder and sprang up, forcing him to block low, and quickly abandoned the assault to pivot behind him. His blade snapped behind his back, catching my own. I prepared myself for the moment the tide of the match would change, for the strike that signified Nash no longer observed and waited but drove forward on the offense.

There was never any preparing.

He turned on his heel, locked onto my eyes, and as quickly as he'd unsheathed those swords drove both his blades for my core in a pointed strike. I threw all my weight into my blade to defend against the attack and still I barely held him off. In the past, it would have landed me on my ass.

Pride and satisfaction flooded Nash's face when I successfully blocked the powerful attack. He didn't slow down, though. No time to get my bearings. I used both hands to block the next one, my arms shaking and my blade wobbling from the last hit. He was too strong. Another hit like that would break my defense for sure when I couldn't use my power to fortify myself. And I was certain he'd held back just then, which infuriated me.

"We talked about this before," I said as we both struck. These weren't real hits, though. They were enough to keep the crowd happy while we talked.

Nash didn't ask what I meant. He knew exactly what I meant because he knew what he was doing. "I can't help it."

It was hard enough for him to knock me down during a sparring match before the baby, but now that I'd carried our child, I wasn't sure he could bring himself to do it. I needed him to do this, though. I needed a real match against him. "Fight me," I demanded.

Nash had been with me every step of the way through the pregnancy, delivery, and recovery. He'd seen how hard it was on the body, even for someone like me who trained and battled my entire life. I really was ready, though. Flinn was four months old now and I worked hard to prepare for this match.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes."

He nodded, speaking quietly. "Sorry."

"Not forgiven." But my grin told him otherwise. I threw myself forward and unleashed a series of rapid strikes. I could see Nash wrestling with his instinct, but I trusted him to overcome it and to face me the way we both truly wanted him to. We loved fighting each other and I wouldn't allow having a baby to change that.

The muscles in jaw bunched and a certain hardness came over him. That lethal look quieted his expression. Fuck. I wanted this, but fuck!

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

A wave of exhilaration hit me. Nerves and excitement. The fear that I couldn't win and the determination that I absolutely would.

This time when Nash moved, I instantly knew I wasn't going to stop him. I tried, but blades knocked mine away, leaving me wide open. His knee came for my stomach and I jumped back as it grazed my tunic. Despite the concern in his eye, he kept coming for me. I dodged the slice of his swords, trusting my instincts and the warriors who guarded us to thwart any lethal strike.

Even though Nash forced me onto my heels, the challenge fueled me. The next time he attacked, I wedged my sword between his and twisted my wrist like he'd taught me while I tried to push them apart. It spread his blades just enough for me to slip through and close in on him for a devastating thrust of my blade from close enough to feel his breath on him. Only, Nash dropped one of his swords to catch my wrist. Knowing I wouldn't be able to free my arm, I let the momentum swing me so my back slammed against his chest, and I slammed my palm into the crook of his other arm to force his second sword away.

I threw my head back for his throat but he released me and sidestepped. Desperate for the advantage, I wheeled around to block him from retrieving his sword. He slid across the ground, scooping it up on the way, and then he was fully armed again.

I groaned with disappointment. He looked surprised and as exhilarated as I felt. Nash hadn't expected me to get that close.

"Get him, Ma!" Elsie screamed from the sidelines.

My muscles burned as I attacked as rapidly as possible, searching for any opening. Our swords danced until Nash successfully knocked mine to the side with one of his swords and jabbed for my midsection with the other. I shifted to the right, just evading the attack, and caught his arm with my own so I held his forearm against my side. He was stronger than me and he'd easily break free, but it gave me a precious second to reposition myself.

Instead of ripping his arm away from me, he slipped it behind me, and pulled me against his chest. With my sword still forced off to the side by his and his free arm holding me close, we were both left open. Our bodies pressed together so tight I could feel his pounding heart beat against my chest. It lasted only a second, but Nash brought his mouth to mine and stole a kiss. The heat and softness of his lips warmed me in the cold.

I shoved him back even though my body wanted to lean in for more. "You ass."

He grinned, his gaze skittering down as he repositioned his swords.

"Don't kiss me when we're fighting," I said.

His sword slammed against mine and we spoke with only our steel separating our faces. "You love when I kiss you while fighting."

I kicked at him and forced a few inches to open between us. "Not with the whole kingdom watching."

The cocky smirk crawled back onto his face and he rolled his shoulders, looking far too confident. "Make me apologize, then."

That drew out my own grin. "Oh, I will."

Even more desperate to win, I attacked so ferociously that the steel of our blades cried out as in pain and a loud crack erupted. The top half of my sword flew free and embedded itself in the ground. My eyes widened at the jagged edge of my broken weapon.

No way would I lose because of a broken sword.

I screamed and slammed into Nash so hard that he seemed to catch me on instinct. Rearing back, I swung my broken sword for him, and when he blocked it, the uneven edge caught one of his swords. It spun from his grasp.

We both dove for the sword to retrieve it. I landed on top of him, straining to reach, but he rolled me over to block me from grabbing it.

Suddenly Nash locked my wrists against the ground above my head, nearly wrenching the sword from my grasp. We both breathed hard, coated in sweat despite the cold wind. The feel of his hard chest bearing down against me made me think about how my lips still burned for more after he'd kissed me. I slammed my head forward and rammed my knee into his side. Nash shifted to dodge the headbutt, but the hit jostled him enough that I managed to rip out of his grasp.

We both rolled, jumping to our knees. I landed with my sword catching on his armored forearm, holding it back from his throat. One of his twin blades might have cut into my side, except I blocked it with my sheath. My arms trembled with his exertion as his hot, heavy breath fell against my face.

"You got distracted," I said.

He made no apologies, the love of battle and the heat we both felt bright in his stare. "You did too."

We shoved back from another, on our feet now, swords ready. The people cheered, but I barely heard them. As desperately as I wanted to finally win this first match, I almost wanted to let him kiss me even more.

Damn this man.

We'd been married for eight years. We'd had plenty of time together. Now was the time for fighting. That meant nothing in this moment, though. I needed him close.

I launched forward, but twisted right before striking, coming up on his left side at just the right angle, because I knew every one of his weak spots. Seeing what I was doing, Nash grinned, and blocked. He'd barely made the move in time, but that didn't matter. He stopped me and the disappointment stung.

I reared back from another hit when his sword cut against the top of mine and wrenched it from my grasp.

Just like that.

I stared in horror at my fallen blade while he set the tip of his remaining sword against my chest. "I win."

My jaw tightened and anger flashed through me. How could I let him break my sword and make me lose mine? Looking at him though, a different kind of tension wound through me. Nash looked amazing with the high of the fight shining in his eyes and his chest pumping with his deep breaths.

"Good fight," I said.

His stare tore through me. "Incredible fight."

Nash locked my hair in his grasp and with the same steadfast determination he'd shown in our match, dragged me up to his face. A strong hand dug firmly into the small of my back, holding me tightly against his body, and his mouth came down against mine. He opened my lips with his own, his tongue raking along mine. The passion of the fight still pounded heavily in my chest and mingled with his commanding kiss. We plunged into the deep waters between us so quickly, his familiar taste and smell as powerful as the combination of each day we'd spent loving each other.

I didn't even care about our people hooting or Elsie hiding her face in embarrassment. The want to finally beat him in a swordfight burned with all my other wants for him. I needed him.

In the final moments of his kiss, his touch turned so tender, so soft, that I couldn't stop myself from melting in his arms.

He drew back just enough to see me, his stare as consuming as his kiss. That look said more than words could.

But, he did beat me in the match, and then he kissed him for the whole kingdom to see.

I surprised him when I rose on my toes to quickly kiss him one more time. Then, as I started to pull away, I slammed my fist into his side. Nash grunted and uttered a low chuckle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still holding his sword, eyes still on me. The fight still burning there.

"I warned you." My fingers found the clasp of the necklace and I removed it, feeling the fire of my power pour back through my body. "You brought this on yourself."

His gaze wandered. Quiet enough for only me to hear, he said, "I know I did."

I shook my head at his teasing and brazenness. At his seriousness, as well.

"I'm going to win this year," he said, and I thought he really believed it, just as I did in the last match. He unfastened his necklace and threw it to the side. I thought he looked more beautiful in that moment than he ever had. His short beard dark against the cut of his cheeks and jaw and his endless shoulders tensed in anticipation of battle. Of all the things in my life that amazed me–and there were too many count–this stunned me the most. That this man loved me and I slept beside him every night of my life. That I got to have him. Him.

These baby hormones were no joke. I already couldn't think straight around Nash some days and now with my poor body flooded with all this oxytocin, I was helpless against the flood of emotion. Was I about to cry about how much I loved my life and my family right here for everyone to see while my husband waited for me to hand my ass to him?

I drew in a very long, slow breath and steadied myself. Any enemies out there who wanted to fight me for real right now would do best to run and hide, because I felt like I could instantly eviscerate anyone who tried to take this precious family from me.

"I'm ready to fight," I shouted desperately, earning a laugh from Nash.

Fuck, did I love festival days.