Kick his blankety blank, Ran says. A smile turns my bleak lips into a semblance of happiness. She’s heard some words from Fisherman's Corner that I haven’t been able to beat out of her.

Instead of berating her, I give her a genuine smile from where she's beside me in her pony form. “I will, sister.”

She nuzzles me and I hug her long horse neck before stepping back to let her go with the stable master. He still doesn’t like me, but my obvious indulgence and relationship with my horse has almost won him over.

Hopefully, he won’t murder me in my sleep for daring to name something Ran. I have too many enemies without adding an obvious horse friend in there. Besides, if I accidentally hurt him when he attacked me, Ran would have my hide. Not fair. But such is life with a giant Timber Wolf with the pettiness of a giant cat.

Heard that, she hisses, almost silently.

And I pale slightly before remembering that she can’t hurt me too badly if she truly wants me to beat Xonier. I couldn’t fight with a broken arm or leg, and she knows it.

Ran chuckles in my head, and I feel her rooting for me.

And for some strange reason, I also feel the little Spark grow warm in my chest, and the lingering pain of the people all around me fades from a roar to a muted whisper in my head.

“Thank you,” I whisper, relief washing over me and calming my soul before the storm.

I draw my shoulders back, a smile on my face and peace in my heart.

~~~

“Ladies and gentlefolk, today is what we all have been waiting for. Today we shall see who will win our hearts through trial by combat. We have two Champions. Two who have fought with blood, sweat, and tears to make it to the Grand Masters Trial!” The applause shakes the stands. “Now, don’t get all excited on me. We still have the dancing after for all the fair maidens to find their favorite knight. Not to mention the sweet cakes.” He winks, and the crowd laughs. Some cat-calls sound from some knights standing on the sidelines as many a fair maiden wave their handkerchiefs and call out to their favorites. I’m tempted to roll my eyes.

Sir Handsomlot turns his twinkling marry gaze to his contenders. His voice drops, “Today, we have before us two of the best swordsmen in the entirety of the continent. Two rising stars, two beasts who slay quicker than you can say catwalk, and who move as if from something out of lore. But today, only one shall be named our victor. Victor of the first token!” He holds up a golden oval-shaped coin about the length of my hand. The crowd roars their approval. The stomping boots make the large rock stands shake.

Clouds rumble overhead, and a light drizzle threatens to turn into a storm, but the people couldn't care less.

“On one side, we have the undefeated contender of a giant. This man is taller than most mountains, quicker than a deadly Quate Rattler, and more lovely than the Queen herself.” Laughter abounds, and the Queen gives a smile and a theatric bow. She wears a sword at her side, the baldric a royal blue with silver lining that somehow matches her slit skirt. The one and only time I've truly met her, she was mostly kind... but then she rescued that cat. If one can find love for an animal, they can't be too bad of a person. Handsomlot continues, drawing me back to the present, “I give you the handsome, the powerful, the bold, Sirrrrrr Xonier!” He draws out the name, using a bards trick to have the crowd eating from the palm of his hand. The applause is thunderous. I’m tempted to cover my ears as the sound drowns us in its clutches.

The sounds finally die down, although it is a few more moments before the echo fades.

“And his competitor. Folks, this youngster here we all laughed at. A bare-faced lad who came with only two swords and a knighthood recently bestowed by one of the most notoriously stingy knights of all time, Sir Hans.” The name alone brings a round of applause. “Yes, indeed. A conundrum, to be sure. A lad who then surpassed all expectation, going head to head in one of the fastest rounds of sparring I do believe I have ever had the pleasure to witness. Or not witness, as was the case. They moved too daggum fast for my mere mortal eyes to follow!”

“Hear, hear!” someone shouts to a smattering of laughter.

“Without further ado, let me introduce the underestimated, the quick, the brave, the brash, the honorable, the easily embarrassed,” I blush, much to the audiences amusement, “Sirrrr Ri!” The name just doesn’t roll off the tongue like Sir Xonier.

Would you prefer Sir Aria? Ran says into my mind, quite innocently, I might add. Why'd the Spark let her through to say that?

RAN! That wolf just isn’t right.

She cackles. The Spark cuts her off before I can say the other things in my mind.

“You two know the rules: don’t fight to kill, don’t kill to fight, yada yada yada. Do us all proud and try to survive while doing it, yeah?”

We both nod.

“Now, for the rematch we have all been waiting for, I will give our beloved crown prince the chance to drop the flag.”

We all look up and over to find the prince has a white and red flag in his hand to denote the beginning of this match. He smirks at us, and something in that... oh my word. That cannot be what I think it is. Not possible. His eyes meet mine. His eyes laugh even as his face remains impenetrable, and his nose is straight. He winks, his eyes a light blue when lighting trails the sky, then he drops the flag.

I draw my swords with a ring of steel as I hear my competitor do the same. We face each other and bow.

I flash a fierce smile. He gives me a nod.

Then the fun begins.

Having gained the appraisal of one another in the last fight makes this different from our tentative testing circles during our first match. No, when we crash together this time, our blades ring, the loud sound fighting the thunder for dominance—and it's not tentative. Not by a long shot.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

This is a fight.

I shove away his sword, kicking his knee, but have to jump back to miss a swing of his blade that would've taken my head if I'd been a split second slower.

I shift, allowing a thrust to slip past my waist with nary a finger's breadth between bare skin and sword, slicing my tunic but missing flesh.

I slide my sword up, attempting to trap his wrist. He dodges and twists, but not before I strike with the pommel of my sword, jabbing it into the soft flesh sometimes called the funny bone.

I give a feral snarl as the fingers spasm on his sword, but he doesn’t drop it, much to my surprise and dismay. I hit with enough force to drop a normal man to his knees.

I press the attack, trying to sweep his leg, then blocking a strike as fast as a snake's bite. I step close to negate his reach advantage. A wince crosses my face before I stab my sword into his shoulder. I don’t go deep, only enough for a flesh wound, despite Sir Hans' voice in my head telling me I’m too nice.

I feel a bite on my arm before I jerk away.

We’re both left panting and bleeding, slowly circling each other as we seek to find an edge of advantage. My ribs protest the movements and bending and my hand is slick where the cut on my fingers has reopened.

The Spark is offering to help you win, Ran says, hesitant. I wince from a headache as a few emotions sneak into my soul, but appreciate the sentiment from both of them.

I give a grim smile, keeping my eyes on Xonier, circling. Tell her thanks, but I'll either win this, or I won't.

Ran surges over the bond with pride. That's my sister. Go win.

With pleasure.

He limps from a kick I got in. My left-handed sword grip is becoming slick with my blood. His shoulder weeps red onto his plain grey armor. It’s his sword shoulder, and I got it just enough to where it should slow him down. A lot.

He smiles, fire burning behind his gaze. I can’t help but relish this fight, this challenge, and the worth of a quick and extremely strong challenger.

I give a slight bow of my head. He returns the sign of respect, then grins.

It crinkles his eyes and makes him look years younger.

He makes the next move, throwing a hidden blade. I duck, the blade passing a hair's breadth from my forehead, actually shearing some of the shortened hair from my head. I step forward, almost slipping in the mud as the rain intensifies.

In the back of my mind I hear the crowd say, "Ooh," as I go to a knee then roll to avoid Xoniers sword as he presses the advantage.

I jump to my feet, using both swords to catch and redirect his sword that was coming for my head. I kick out, and catch him on the knee. He stumbles back, resetting his stance and swirling his sword in a figure eight.

My lips turn up in a snarl, and his eyebrows raise. Cold rain tickles my forehead. I lick the moisture from the top of my lip, the slightly sweet rainwater making me thirsty. Not the time for wanting water, but it gives me an idea.

I take some steps back.

What are you doing? Ran yelps.

Spark, so help me, quite letting her distract me!

It's time to be the down and dirty fighter I am. I never won nicely in the streets, because there is no nice when someone is trying to take your head. It's time for me to fight, not as a challenger, but as the vigilante of Risia. Her Guardian.

Because that is who I am.

Sir Xonier follows my retreat, first swinging for my head and then kicking forward and almost catching me unaware. I cross my arms in front of me, thinking to block the front kick… but something in me says that would break my forearms. So I twist, twirling away from the kick. I hate turning my back on an opponent, but the only other option wasn’t ideal. I don't like broken bones.

Coming back around, I barely have enough time to block his sword. It leaves me reeling, backpedaling until I’m against the wall of the arena. I duck, and his sword rebounds off the wall, sending sparks flying.

I crouch, then put one foot behind me on the wall and kick off, using the wall as a boost and diving forward between his legs.

I use the muddy and slick sand, and I almost underestimate how quickly I'm going, just about missing my mark. But I twist to my back, throwing out my hand and the dagger slides through the back of his ankle, making his leg give out and he goes down to on knee.

A guttural cry comes from his lips, and it makes my heart hurt, but... this is what I need to do to win. But is it worth it?

He tries to flip his dagger and send it through my ribs when I come up behind him, but I knock it away with one hand and put my other blade at his throat, blinking through the rain even as bright waterlights spotlight us so the forebodingly silent crown can see through the water streaming from the sky.

"I yield!" he yells, his voice deep and gravelly.

I step back, lightning flashing through the black clouds above the arena. Rain streams down my face and makes the wound on my arm stain the surrounding white and brown shirt pink. Why in all that is good and holy did Jenny give me a white shirt to go under the light leather armor today? Didn't she know I'd be fighting?

I use my bloodstained blade to cut a strip of my muddy tunic under the leather armor, and approach Sir Xonier.

He breathes heavily, still on one knee and his ankle bleeding, staining the sands a darker color than even the muddy mess from the rain.

I offer him my hand.

He looks at it, then looks at me, his hard eyes raking me from head to toe.

"Xonier not fought braver opponent. Nor dirtier opponent. You worthy challenger."

He takes my hand, and I almost slip and fall on my face when he uses me to leverage himself to his feet. He's just as heavy as you'd think.

My heart still beats against my ribcage like a bird trying to fly from a cage and gasping breaths escape me as I stand nose to lower chest with Sir Xonier.

I crank my head up to look at Sir Xonior. His eyebrows are creased with pain, but a laugh thunders from his lips, combating the thunder above.

I bend down and dress his ankle with quick movements smooth from many times dressing wounds.

I sit back and wipe my eyes clear of mud and rain. "That should hold for now, sir, until you can get to a skilled healer."

His eyebrows climb his forehead and his lips make an oval. He does something I don’t expect.

He takes some of the blood from his shoulder, wipes it on his hand, and holds it out for me to shake.

I'm not sure about this. I've never heard of it, but with the look in his eyes, he takes this seriously. It takes a moment, but I look from his hand to his face, and then wipe some blood on my hand and tentatively shake his hand instead of his forearm as would be the usual.

He nods his approval, grinning.

His hand swallows mine, and he jerks me to him. I yelp, but he pays me no mind. He gives me a brotherly hug and lets out a burly laugh. He slaps my back with enough force to knock the wind out of my achy lungs.

“Little Wolf full of surprises. Will keep secrets.” He gives my wide-eyed stare a wink. “Many worthy women fighters up north to kick Xonier’s tail. Never found a man able to best Xonier in fair fight,” he whispers. I blush, but he gives another burly chuckle loud enough to rumble the ground.

Then he turns to face the crowd hanging on to our every word. “To the next Worthy Prince Protector, a little wolf-heart of fire and light Xonier is proud to call his sibling at arms, Sir Ri!”

My cheeks grow warm to the sound of exuberant cheers and lighthearted laughter at my flaming cheeks. Flowers surround us, mixing with the muddy sand, thrown from the highest and lowest reaches of a stadium that booed me not a week ago.

People sure are fickle.

I'm kinda shocked I actually won. Scratch that. There's a numb place inside my gut, and my hands are tingly. Not from my Gift, but just... a numb sort of shocked disbelief. I shouldn't have won. Everything was against this. Against me. Yet, I won.

The Spark grows warm, and Ran's voice comes in a whisper, just enough for me to hear but still have the rest of the surrounding emotions muffled.

Dear rider, you worked hard for this. With the King's guidance, you fought and you fought well. Be proud of what you've done, where you've come from to stand here today... a winner, but not of a fight. There is a reason you came today, unafraid even if you lost, 'cause you knew the truth. Win or lose, you are enough, my rider. Win or lose, you will always be enough. Just as you are.

I smile, the chilly disbelief in me changing to a warm surge of happiness and pride.

If we can do this... is it possible I really can rescue my family?

Nothing is impossible together, something or someone whispers within. I can't tell if that was The King, Rose, or Ran... or all three.