Kravius's staff met my gauntlet for the ninth time and the courtyard flinched around us like a held breath. Stone cracked under my boots in a spiderweb that hadn't been there a heartbeat ago. Somewhere past the burning east wall, Malrik was still bellowing something profane at a line of Concordat pikemen, and somewhere closer, Rena's twin blades were carving a red arc through three men who'd made the mistake of thinking they could flank her. None of it reached me. There was only the archmage in front of me, silver hair matted dark at the temple, one eye swollen shut, still smiling like a man who hadn't yet decided whether tonight was the night he died.
"You've gotten faster," Kravius said, breathing hard, blood threading from his split lip down into the grey of his beard. "Death agreed with you."
"You'd know. You arranged the introduction."
