Zyryxa surged forward, slamming Matyxal against the wall with enough force to rattle the cabin. The freckled bard didn’t fight back. “That murderer will be champion of nothing!” Zyryxa hissed. In her rage, she crushed Matyxal harder into the coarse fur blanket on the gigantic bed. Matyxal didn’t even flinch. The fiery woman’s serenity stoked Zyryxa’s fury.

“She’ll—she’ll—” Zyryxa’s words splintered as she screamed, her guttural cry reverberating off the cabin walls. There was no way she’d ever let Saevah be the Fire Champion. No divinedamned way! She’d jump into the middle of the ocean before she permitted such injustice. Her body couldn’t contain her anguish, letting her suppressed cries escape in tremors that wracked her to the core.

Lexyn reached for her, as if approaching an enraged wolf. “Zyryxa.”

“Back off!” Zyryxa snarled, cutting Lexyn as sharp as if it were her axe doing the chopping. She barely stopped herself from shoving Lexyn away. Pelzyq stepped between them, but his presence did nothing to Zyryxa’s wrath. She fixed her glare solely on Matyxal, who remained calm and motionless. She wanted to throttle her. Instead, her hands clawed at the edges of her furs, holding on to her to stop herself from shattering completely.

“I’ll kill Saevah,” Zyryxa growled. “I’ll rip her apart, bit by bit, until she’s nothing.”

Matyxal exhaled, but it was Natazia’s voice that cut into her. “Are you done yet?”

Zyryxa whirled toward her, her rage finding a new target. Despite all her scarring, Natazia still had a pristine face. A caved-in cheek might teach her to shut the fuck up. Divinedamned bitch. “As long as Saevah lives, I’ll never be done.”

Natazia rolled her eyes. “No warrior can defeat a knight. Even if you think you’re better, which you’re not, they’re augmented by their dragon bond. Try as hard as you can, and they’ll always win. Always.”

“You haven’t seen me,” Zyryxa said.

“I’ve seen your kind. Proud little girls like you that thought they were better than everyone else. You know what happens to them? They break. Fragile as ice beneath a dragon’s claw.” She leaned closer, her pixie hair catching the light from the bluish-white vials lining the workbench shelf. “And Saevah—” her voice dropped to a whisper— “she’ll carve you up with her twinblade before you even swing your first blow.”

Zyryxa’s rage turned to ice, contemplating how to hurt Natazia as a chill ran down her spine. Her fingers curled into fists as she mapped out the room—a tight brawler’s playground with little space and all the potioneering devices. She’d fucking show her who she was.

Pelzyq let out a loud snort. “Divinedamned great! Now we’ve got two proud princesses. Should Pelzyq give you both a good spanking so we can get on with it?”

“Shut up!” Zyryxa and Natazia snapped in unison, their voices cutting like twin blades.

Lexyn flinched at their ferocity. “Please,” she muttered, shaking like a little mouse, “we’re all on the same side.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

They scowled at her, then their mirrored glares met. Zyryxa almost laughed, a bitter twist of irony in staring at this mirror of herself. Still, she’d shatter the glass before she yielded. Natazia wouldn’t get the better of her, nor would Saevah or anyone else.

Matyxal took advantage of her opening before Zyryxa or Natazia could close it again. “You two were shadows of justice weaving a beautiful synchrony through the blizzard,” she said, her voice lyrical but grounded. “You are meant to be broodsisters.”

Of course, Zyryxa thought, further calmed. Matyxal had known all along that Zyryxa, and later Natazia, were stalking through the homestead. Thinking back, she could time the bard’s singing with their murders. From the start, she’d been helping them.

Matyxal sat up slowly, her freckled grin softening her sharp words. “Natazia, you haven’t truly seen Zyryxa yet. And you of all people should know better than to diminish the anger someone feels against the person who caused their pain.”

“You know nothing of my pain!” Natazia snapped, her voice cracking.

Matyxal frowned, though her voice was soft as Isihlan silk. “You’re right. I was blessed to serve two dragon knights who built me up with love. But I know enough about Hatrox to see how he writ his name upon your flesh.” Her voice grew quieter. “And I know it’s engraved gar deeper than the eye can see.”

At mention of Hatrox, Natazia’s fierce expression crumbled. Her arms fell limp at her sides, and her hard gaze turned distant. Her entire body trembled as she stumbled toward the door. She didn’t speak, didn’t look up as she fled toward the ice. Once she was out of sight, a raw, broken cry escaped her lips.

Zyryxa’s stomach churned, her anger eclipsed by a surfaced memory bursting up from the ice beneath the surface of her consciousness. She stood triumphant over Syraxyz at the Festival of Melding, huffing and puffing but full of pride at being champion of the junior tournament. Again. Her gaze latched onto an eminently muscular man, shirtless and covered in scars, with a uniquely chiseled face, unable to escape on her own volition. For all his icy beauty, his stare made her tremble, froze her in place. His cold eyes consumed Zyryxa, the smallest of grins breaking his lips. Her mother grabbed her arm and whisked her away before the celebration ended, before Hatrox could close in, and told her to stay far, far away from him.

“And Zyryxa,” Matyxal said, her soft voice pulling her back to the present, “Natazia is also right. You have the potential to take on anyone, but right now, you cannot defeat Saevah. Nor should you.”

Natazia stood in the cabin’s doorway. She looked like a ghost. Zyryxa folded her arms, no longer wanting to fight, but not at peace either. “I’ll find a way. I always have. I always will.”

Matyxal’s smile carried no joy. “I knew Zyrthalla better than most. Long after her girl fell asleep in her lap, she’d tell me about the dreams she had for her firstborn. If she could speak to her now, she’d tell her to focus on protecting Loxzua, Oxyeeq, and all the homesteads north and south of the Frostmelt. Zyrthalla would want her to survive long enough to become Ice’s Champion, to restore peace to the Volqor she loved, and forge a better future for all who live here.” Matyxal eyes brimmed with tears. “She wouldn’t want her to kill her dear friend. And most of all, she wouldn’t want her joy, her hope, her pride to be consumed by the need to avenge her and lose herself.”

Zyryxa swallowed hard, her throat tightening. Matyxal was right. She knew it as certain as anything there ever was or ever would be to know. But just because something was right didn’t mean you had the strength to accept it. “Saevah stole my future.” Zyryxa clenched her jaw to keep the emotions from rushing out, not sure if she stifled a roar or a whimper. Breathing heavily, she forced out, in broken pieces, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t have one.”

Matyxal’s tears spilled over as she whispered, “Then it will be Volqor, and thousands who live here, that don’t have a future.”