I didn't see the sand coming.
One second, Cassian was bowing like the perfect noble—the next, my vision exploded into white pain as something gritty and sharp blasted into my eyes.
I staggered back with a gasp, hand flying to my face. My sword nearly slipped from my fingers.
"Seriously—?!" I choked, blinking furiously. My eyes burned. My vision swam. Everything was shapes—shadows—movement.
The crowd erupted. Screams. Gasps. Someone yelled my name—Alya, maybe. Jerry hissed, furious.
And over it all, Cassian's voice slid in like oil.
"You should've stayed forgotten."
I heard the crunch of sand under his boots.
Footsteps—fast. A shape swinging toward me.
Instinct screamed at me to move.
I raised my sword to block, but—
Pain.
It was sharp. Hot. Blinding.
His blade sank into my shoulder—deep enough that I felt the breath rip out of my lungs. My knees buckled and heat spilled down my arm, soaking into the sleeve of the academy-issued tunic I'd borrowed.
My stomach twisted. Not from the pain—but the realization.
He stabbed me.
He actually—
My grip slipped. My sword clattered onto the sand next to me.
I fell to one knee.
The crowd erupted again—this time louder, angrier, panicked. The Arena Master shouted something, but my ears rang too loudly to catch it.
Blood dripped down my fingers.
I pressed my hand against the wound, but the moment I touched it, the pain roared up my spine.
"Damn it—" I gasped.
Everything blurred. The arena tilted. The sand looked too bright.
Cassian leaned in close, voice low enough that only I could hear him.
"I warned you not to get ideas," he murmured. "Next time, remember your place."
He twisted the blade.
I screamed.
Not loudly—my pride was too stubborn for that—but enough that the edges of my vision went black.
And then—
"CASSIAN!"
Her voice crashed over the arena like a storm.
Seraphina.
Even half-blind, half dying, I looked up.
She stood at the edge of the arena platform, posture rigid, fists clenched at her sides. She looked angrier than I'd ever seen her—beyond angry—furious in a way that made nobles shrink and instructors turn pale.
She leapt over the railing.
Actually leapt.
Her boots hit the sand hard. She crossed the arena in three strides, grabbing Cassian by the wrist so sharply that he stumbled.
"What do you think you're doing?!" she snapped.
Cassian grinned—not apologetic. Not ashamed.
Amused.
"She dodged," he said simply. "Barely. Not my fault she's weak."
"I saw you throw sand."
"That's a tactic."
"I saw you strike when she was blind."
"Also a tactic."
"I saw you stab her, Cassian!"
He tilted his head innocently. "And? The blow wasn't fatal."
"THAT IS NOT THE POINT!"
Do you know how much trouble your causing for the kingdom?" she snapped.
Her shout cracked something inside me.
Maybe it was my pride.
Maybe it was the pain.
Maybe it was the fact that the princess of Fides—a girl I had only seen from afar—was standing inches from me, furious on my behalf.
Me.
She didn't even know my name.
Seraphina whipped toward me, her expression instantly shifting from rage to something tight and frantic.
"You—" she breathed, kneeling beside me. "You're bleeding. A lot. You—what's your name?"
I blinked blearily.
"My—my name…?"
"Your name," she repeated urgently, voice sharp but soft at the edges. "Tell me your name. You—are you Alya's sister? Van Buqeat? Mavis, right?"
It took everything not to pass out.
I managed a tiny nod. "Y… yeah."
Her eyes softened.
Then sharpened.
She turned back toward Cassian.
"You attacked a vulnerable opponent," she hissed. "And don't pretend otherwise."
Cassian's jaw tightened. "It's a combat exam."
"You could have killed her."
"But I didn't."
"That's not a defense, Cassian."
"She's a girl pretending to be someone important," he snapped suddenly, losing his composure entirely. "She's nothing. She shouldn't even be here—"
Seraphina struck him.
A clean, sharp backhand across the face.
The entire arena went dead silent.
Cassian staggered back, eyes wide, one hand pressed against his cheek.
Seraphina stood between us, commanding, furious, radiant in a way that made my heart twist painfully—even more painfully than the stab wound.
"If you ever," she said, voice low and shaking with anger, "ever raise your sword with lethal intent in this academy again—fiancé or not—I will have you expelled, stripped of status, and exiled from Fides territory."
The crowd gasped.
Cassian's face contorted. "Seraphina, you're being irrational—"
"Leave."
"—I won the round—"
"You lost your honor."
"I—"
"Leave."
Her command wasn't loud.
But it was absolute.
Cassian—future duke, perfect noble, untouchable heir—looked at her like he couldn't comprehend what was happening.
Then he looked at me.
Not with guilt.
With hatred.
He sheathed his sword and walked out of the arena without a backward glance.
Seraphina dropped to her knees again, her voice softer now.
"Stay with me," she said, reaching gently toward my wounded shoulder. "Hey—look at me. Don't close your eyes."
"I'm not closing them," I muttered weakly.
"You nearly died."
"I'm… used to worse."
She stared at me.
My vision cleared enough to see it—the disbelief, the anger, the fear. Not fear of me.
Fear for me.
It hit me so hard I almost forgot I was bleeding.
An instructor skidded to a stop beside us, dropping medical supplies and fumbling with bandages.
Seraphina snapped, "You should have stopped the match sooner."
"Y-yes, Princess!"
She looked back at me.
Her hands hovered just above my shoulder—close enough that her warmth brushed my skin, careful not to hurt me further.
"What in the world were you thinking…?" she whispered, more to herself than to me.
I wanted to answer.
Something witty.
Something sarcastic.
Something strong.
But all that came out was, "I… won, right?"
She stared.
Then—despite the blood, despite the panic—she laughed.
A small, breathless, disbelieving laugh.
"No," she said softly. "But you fought like you deserved to."
And for reasons I couldn't understand—maybe because my head was woozy, maybe because she was too close, maybe because her eyes were too soft—
hearing her say that
meant something.
Something I wasn't ready to name.
The world tilted.
The pain surged.
Her hand cupped the side of my face to steady me.
"Hey. Stay awake."
"I'm awake," I breathed.
"You're not."
She caught me as my vision flickered again.
"Don't you dare faint on me," she muttered, panic slipping into her voice. "You're not allowed."
"S…orry."
"Stop apologizing."
"I… I'm… fine…"
"Liar."
Her hand tightened around mine.
And as the arena spun and my consciousness slipped—
the last thing I saw
the last thing I heard
was Seraphina's voice, shaking with fury and something else I didn't yet understand:
"Someone get a healer—now! She's Mavis Van Buqeat, do you hear me? And she needs help!"