A Court of Wings and Fate

57. Vendetta

Ronan wrapped his arms around Mikael's middle, driving him backwards. Thinking quickly, Mikael braced his hands on the male's shoulders and planted his feet into the ground, waiting for him to stop pushing. The moment he felt a lapse in Ronan's force, he shot his leg forward and jerked one of Ronan's out from under him.

Ronan collapsed but kicked the back of Mikael's knees. He went down and Ronan flipped on top of him, throwing dirt into Mikael's eyes in the process. Pain blossomed through his jaw as Ronan threw a solid punch. Mikael thrust up with his hips, throwing Ronan off balance, and kicked the Peregryn over his head.

Mikael flipped onto his feet, shaking coarse dirt from his wings. Ronan rounded on him, teeth bared in a snarl. From the corner of his eye, Mikael saw Estelle struggling to reach him. Ameer had a tight hold on her arm. Her shadows were coiled and ready to strike. Umbra was clenching Mikael's arm almost painfully.

Mikael blinked, returning his focus to the fight. He yelped and dove beneath Ronan's outstretched fist. Mikael landed a sharp jab to Ronan's side. Breath hissed between Ronan's teeth and he snapped a wing out, knocking Mikael down again. Mikael rolled as Ronan attempted to stomp a foot into his gut.

Magic burned through Mikael's veins, begging to be released, but he kept a tight hold on it. The Vendetta had to be won according to the rules. There was too much at stake for him to ignore even the smallest one. He had completed the Rite, proving himself to be a warrior. Now, he had to win the Vendetta as one.

If he lost, he would die. Thesan would have no heir. Both of his fathers would lose a son. Calden, Celeste, and Sienna would lose a friend, a brother. And Estelle... Mikael couldn't bear to think of what pain his death would cause her. He had only one option. He had to win. He had to win the right way. He had to kill Ronan, or force him to surrender.

"Why don't you make this easier for yourself and just yield?" Ronan sneered. "We both know who the better warrior is. It certainly isn't you. You've always been a weak, pathetic scholar. You prefer books and your father's lap over grueling training and hard work."

"I have worked harder in one day of my life than you will work in a hundred of yours," Mikael spat. "I have learned from books. I have learned from mentors. I have learned from experience. I have learned from pain and sweat and tears."

"You know nothing of pain."

Ronan threw another punch, but Mikael caught it. "Don't I?" He grunted, struggling to hold Ronan's fist back. "You were the one who taught me about pain! I learned what pain was when you broke my arm and ripped out my feathers. When you chained me to a tree, tight enough that my ankles bled. When you left me in that forest, hoping my blood would attract a predator to kill me when you couldn't!"

"I learned about pain when you taunted me, calling me a bastard and my parents whores. That's when I learned what I was. I learned pain when you disrespected my father, my friends, my MATE, because of what I am! I know what pain is. I've suffered plenty of it."

"You've never suffered!" Ronan roared. He pulled his fist back and kicked Mikael's stomach. Mikael doubled over, retching. Ronan grabbed him by the shoulders, driving his knee into Mikael's gut again and again. Mikael vomited. Ronan's knee collided with his jaw and he tasted blood. The world spun before his eyes. Ronan threw him on the ground.

Mikael shook his head, trying to refocus his vision. Ronan climbed on top of him, wrapping his hands around Mikael's throat. Mikael gasped for breath, flapping his wings instinctively and clawing at Ronan's hands.

"You have had everything handed to you, your entire life!" Ronan screamed, lifting Mikael by the throat, then slamming his head back into the ground. Mikael wheezed, his chest tightening from lack of air. He could hear people screaming all around them. He couldn't tell if they were cheering for Ronan, or screaming in fear for him.