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looked at Jazan, the way she tried to make her delicate form even smaller as soon as she took her place beside him.
    The Az-kye had strict gender roles but it was essentially a matriarchal society. She was a woman where women had the advantage. She was an Imperial princess. For gods’ sake, she was heiress to the Az-kye throne itself. What could she have to fear?
    None of this was his problem anyway. The whole thing was an internal Az-kye matter. She’d tried to get out of an arranged marriage she didn’t want and it didn’t work. She’d figure something out. And if she had to marry this guy, she really had the upper hand here, didn’t she?
    He should hand over the sword and get the hell out of here. Put the dress uniform—which was uncomfortable but at least covered his ass—back on and walk away from this fight. The peace talks would go forward with the empress’ blessing and Princess Alari would get the ideal Az-kye mate.
    Alari.
    He hadn’t even known her name when her eyes first met his.
    Eyes as dark, deep and soft as a summer night . . .
    Kyndan tightened his grip on the sword.
    “Okay, he’s Ren’thar in mortal form,” Kyndan said with a dry reference to the Az-kye’s warrior god. “What’s Ren’thar’s weakness?”
    Aidar’s brow creased.  “His mate, Lashima.”
    “Goddess of Love.” Kyndan studied Aidar. “You know Az-kyes a hell of a lot better than I do. You saw them together. Do you think Jazan loves Alari?”
    Aidar gave a snort. “I think Jazan a warrior who loves himself alone. He would not force a woman to be his mate if she named another, did he love her.”
    “Did you love Kinara when you married her?” Kyndan asked suddenly. Kinara had agreed to be Aidar’s mate to win freedom for her enslaved crew, Nisara and Tedah among them. But Kyndan had never really thought about why Aidar had married a Tellaran slave.
    Aidar’s dark eyes were lit from within. “With such depth I cannot even speak to it.”
    “That’s good,” Kyndan said quietly. He tilted his head. “So if I marry Alari I’ll become part of the Imperial family, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “And once I’m the princess’ consort you’ll have to bow to me, won’t you?”
    Aidar’s face mouth twitched in amusement. “I would.”
    “Don’t worry, Aidar.” Kyndan grinned. “I’ll make sure you’re front and center for the wedding.”
     

     
    “First rule of combat is to know you are going to win.” 
    Kyndan recalled hearing Lieutenant Deril say that on his first day at the academy. The man was a windbag but he knew his stuff.
    “Have confidence that, no matter what ,” he’d said to the class, his Leman accent giving his words a clipped, harsh tone, “you will prevail.”
    Kyndan stepped into the arena, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d learned long ago at the academy how to get out of his own way, to go beyond the fear, how to trust himself and his training to handle anything he came up against.
    I will win. 
    I just need to figure out how . . .
    The circular arena had a dirt floor and was surrounded on all sides with stands for an audience. In the center, brightly lit from above and marked with stones to show the boundary, was the Circle. He couldn’t cross the stone boundary by more than a step; to do so meant being cut down by warriors who waited outside in case of such an occurrence.
    Run, you shame your clan and they kill you anyway.
    Once Kyndan stepped inside the Circle he would win or he would die.
    At least it’s a nice turnout.
    The stands were more dimly lit, filled to capacity and then some. There were many more outside who pressed forward at the arched exits, peering in from the corridors outside. The empress was easy to pick out; she commanded the very center of the stands and sat surrounded by her advisors and attendants.
    He spotted Kinara and Aidar on the right. Tedah was there with them, Lianna at his side. The three looked grim but Kinara looked sick with fear. He’d asked