The roar of the crowd still echoed in Soren's ears, a phantom sound that refused to fade even in the quiet of the preparation chamber. He sat alone on the bench, staring at his trembling hands with disgust.
No matter how he tried to clench them into fists, they continued their betrayal, shaking like those of an old man rather than a victor who'd just humbled two noble champions.
"Hide your hand until you cut." Kaelor's parting critique hung in the air, more damning for its truth than its harshness. He'd shown too much, revealed his approach too early. Against Marcus it had been enough. Against what came next...
'Two victories,' Valenna whispered, her voice cold as winter frost against his thoughts. 'Two houses shamed. They cannot ignore you now.'
Soren wiped sweat from his brow, wincing as his fingers brushed the cut on his cheek from Aric's blade. Fresh blood stained his palm, his own this time, from where Marcus's sword had opened his forearm.
