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handsome men, each of them
lusting after her soon to be exposed body, thinking sexualized thoughts. She
was out of breath. She could hardly stand. In a moment her hands would be
reaching for the base of the gown, and then a few moments later it would be
pulled away from her and she’d be helpless and alone.
    Her only
chance was Zane. If there was some other way. If he was prepared to turn his
back on his clan for her. But was Stacey really worth that much to him? Could
he not just as easily fall for the next girl who came here?
    “STOP.”
    His hand was
out and pointed in her direction.
    The King
jumped off the table and landed right next to him.
    “I’m not sure
I heard that,” the King said. “Could you repeat it please?”
    Zane directed
his hand at the King. “I challenge you to a duel.”
    “WHAT?” the
King cried.
    “A duel. By
sword or fire. Your choice. The winner takes the throne.”
    The King’s
head went back and he roared with laughter. “What sort of preposterous nonsense
–”
    “A challenge
is a challenge. Do you accept it? Or will you just behave cowardly as always.”
    The King’s
laughter stopped. His face shriveled with menacing rage. “You miserable fool,
Zane. How dare you challenge me. For all we have fought for and this – this
bleeding puke of a creature is our downfall? What spell has she cast on you?”
    Zane turned
his back to the King and walked into the middle of the hall to stand with
Stacey. He leant down to her ear and whispered, “As soon as you can escape, do
so.”
    Stacey nodded
slightly and was then nudged to one side as Zane unsheathed his sword.
    “By sword or
fire.”
    The King
unsheathed his own sword. “By sword it shall be.”
    He advanced
slowly towards Zane.
    Zane took a
step back, circling.
    Stacey could
hardly watch. She was frightened, not for herself, but for him.
    Before she
could blink the two swords had connected with each other. There was a flash of
light from both of them – Zane’s sword flashed green, and the King’s sword
flashed red. Electricity sparked. Then the swords were connecting with one
another with ferocious precision.
    The men at
the tables, cheered for the King. But for Stacey, there was no enthusiasm
behind it. The applause didn’t sound genuine.
    Of the two
fighters, it was clear immediately that the King was stronger. His slices
through the air carried more weight, and a number of times Zane seemed as
though he would lose his footing underneath their power.
    But Zane was
more agile. He moved faster and was actually in more of an attack stance than
the King. For the first minute or so of the battle, the contest seemed
reasonably even. Stacey couldn’t tell who was going to win.
    “Come on!”
she cried, trying to make her voice louder than the crowd’s. “Come on Zane! You
can beat him!”
    There was no
certainty of that though. Already it appeared Zane was getting tired. Defending
himself from the King’s blows was really taking it out of him. Soon he’d make a
mistake and then it would all be over.
    Stacey bit
her lip. She made eye contact with Zane and she saw the desperation in his eyes.
She realized he couldn’t hold the King much longer. He wanted her to run. To
escape. If he were to die now, then his sacrifice would have been for nothing.
Stacey looked to the entrance to see if it was being guarded, but the coast was
clear. She could slip out now. It was what Zane wanted.
    But something
made her stay. She wanted figure out if there was some other way.
    If she could
think of something that would make them stop fighting…

 
    CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
     
     
    Too late. Defeated, Zane had fallen
to his knees; his chest bloodied with scars. His sword was already out of
reach, but the King now kicked it across the floor so that there was no chance
of it being retrieved at all. Zane had lost the duel.
    Still there,
Stacey had tears pouring out of her eyes as she watched the King advance behind
him. Zane’s head was bowed, so the