2408, Crescin 08, Daleth

April threw the doors to the meeting hall open, knowing full well that another meeting was in place. Heads whirled to her, the Advisers' faces collectively morphing into an expression of annoyed confusion.

"What now?" Elami blew an exasperated breath and rubbed her face. "Some rogue tuscan out in the city? Other 'pressing' issues that we need to look into according to the Princess?"

April smiled, baring her teeth to the rest of the council. "Surrender your control to Falkirta to me," she said. "You old hags aren't doing a very good job at it in the first place."

Elami's face shifted from surprise then contorted into anger. Finally, a hysterical laugh tore from her. "What are you going on about? Are you on oshella?" she exclaimed. The rest of the Advisers snickered or snorted into fists tucked under their noses. "What makes you think we'll hand it over to you even if you ask nicely? Which, for the record, you can't even do even if it kills you."

"You will give it to me," April strode towards the table in the middle of the white-walled room and leaned her weight against it using her hands. "Because I invoke Provision Nine."

Elami's face fell. A wave of uncertainty washed over the advisers. Whispers thickened from the bunch. April scoffed, knowing she had them on chokehold. Unlike the rest of the air sprite population, these idiots didn't bother touching any weapon as soon as they took the seats of power. It was a disgrace, really. Air sprites were supposed to train both form and mind and they weren't supposed to stop even if they had other duties.

April had weighed her chances. Even if they fought her, she was sure she could beat them. But she'd known them all her life. She knew they wouldn't raise a finger if it meant getting locked in a physical battle. They'd rather use their mouths and run off their opponents with fake diplomacy. Their tongues were their weapon and, in their defense, they've honed it to a deadly edge.

But April wasn't going to fight them on their floor. She tried and failed. So, the next best thing she could do was to change the playing field altogether. That's where Provision Nine came in. It was included in the Doctrines of Ethics—one of the civic texts all Air Sprites upheld—and was about challenging anyone to settle things through the use of strength and skill. It has a lot of applications, whether in arts or in April's case, in combat.

Backing away from such a provocation was considered cowardice. Invoking Provision Nine included both parties involved being able to state their conditions before the actual event. That's what Elami seemed to be thinking of now as she straightened on her seat, her eyes flitting everywhere. The Potentate's hands clasped together atop the table, the knuckles whitening to prove how hard she was clenching them.

April kept her smile smug and sure, even though an inkling that Elami would be able to trump her with some sneaky move already roiled in her gut.

Finally, Elami smoothed her hands against the table. "The Court will present their conditions," she said. "It'll be simple enough."

Adviser Pernice perked up as if the Potentate referred to her by habit. How did they even come up with their conditions without discussing it with each other? Didn't they need time for this kind of thing?

Pernice pushed her crimson-rimmed glasses up her nose. Her hair was back into braids, the mousse-brown plaits hanging down the side of her head and down to her chest. "By the Provision's standards, since the Princess challenged the Court as a body, we have the right for representation."

April knitted her eyebrows. What were they saying? That she wouldn't get to fight these witches directly? Representation? Who were they even going to send?

"And for this specific invocation of Provision Nine against the Falkirtan Court and the Office of the Potentate," Pernice continued. "We nominate Ilvi Aledryl."

April's gut sank. Ilvi Aledryl. She hadn't met the man but she had heard enough tales from Vafron, the army base, of what kind of a soldier he was. Born into the Aledryl clan, one of the previous families who once held distinction all over Falkirta's royal courts and even ruled as Potentate once, he made good of his name by being one of the best warriors Falkirta ever had.

And if April was going to fight someone whom she never met, that's going to be trouble, indeed.

Backing out of a challenge invoked by Provision Nine was considered cowardice, especially if the one who proposed it withdrew. A curse bubbled up her throat but she swallowed it, tamped it down. This had come to bite her in the ass. Judging from the triumphant narrowing of Elami's eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, the Potentate knew of April's hesitation as well.

A beat passed. Two.

April forced her hands to unclench from her sides. To get to Hera's killer and Melron's accomplice, she needed to get the Court back on line and not get in her way. She needed their resources and the manpower. And she couldn't do it if her authority would always be questioned.

For Hera, April must do this. She sighed, her hands relaxing and brushing against her trousers. "I concede with the Court's conditions," she leveled her gaze at the entire council who stared at her with a mixture of pity and blatant amusement. "Then, hear mine."

"The duel will happen in the training grounds at the earliest instance," April continued. "Only one weapon of choice will be allowed to be used. The first person who drops their weapon will lose."

April ground her teeth, both in anxiety and anticipation. "If I win...the Court will surrender all control to me. I will be the final voice to any and every decision," she said. "And if I lose..."

"You will step aside and let the Potentate do her work," Adviser Corlas snapped. "Better yet, we should just exile you to Lanteglos as a chambermaid to pay for your insolence," the Adviser crossed his arms and muttered, "Invoking Provision Nine. Unbelievable!"

April scoffed. "I accept these conditions," she said.

"The Court accepts as well," Elami said. The glee in her smile didn't slip by April's eye. "I declare the invocation final and apparent. See you in the training grounds. We'll just summon Ilvi and we'll be underway."

April bobbed her head and strode out of the hall. The door to her room slammed shut after a few minutes of walking. None of the maids were inside. The memory of her going home after Hera died and she spent her while dangling over the side of Falkirta played in her head as her gaze brushed the chairs and desk where her maids used to hang out.

She remembered screaming at them for failing to guard her well. Her whole frustration and grief poured out of her and before she knew it, they had filed out of the room in fear. It's been a few days since then but evidence of her rampage was still present in the smallest of corners.

She tore her gaze at those paltry things and strode to the adjacent room, towards her closet. Her writing desk stood empty behind her. After what happened, she couldn't bear to look at it without thinking how stupid she had been, turning her back to the door like she did back then. She shook her head and yanked the closet's door open. Lying on the floor of the only compartment was her real sword.

Gilded with gold and sheathed inside a wide, leather scabbard, it had been gifted to her when she finished the mandatory militia training. The High Queen had gifted it to her so the golden guard bore the crest of the Imperial Palace. On its hilt sat the roundest romerine ore APril had ever come across. It's beautiful. And along with the wine-stained dress, these items were probably the only things she had to prove to herself her mother was real.

All the more for April to reach out and close her fingers around its sheath. It wasn't the broadest sword she was fond of but its deadly edge and the comfortable grip it provided would be leagues more useful. Especially if she was going head-to-head with Ilvi.

When she strode out of her room, the sword was strapped to her belt. She wore lightweight armor knowing Ilvi would probably be wearing his bulky, full armor like the Vafron dagrine he was. The battle would be over before he had the chance to land a strike on her. Plus, all that heavy metal would get in the way of her agility and speed—two of the qualities she prided herself with.

The training grounds came too soon. Why in Pidmena's name was April's heart beating so hard? It's just a duel. She wouldn't die from it. You will step out of our way. We will exile you to Lanteglos as a chambermaid to pay for your insolence. The Advisers' threats wormed their way down into April's gut and into her mind.

She shook her head as she ducked into the grounds' entrance. The wide courtyard and the bright light from the sun greeted her. Just as fast, the clutter of dummies were missing as well as the piles of discarded training weapons scattered around on normal days. She scoffed. The Council sure knew how to remove any chance of April having the upper hand. Because without the mess, without the familiarity of the scenery, the courtyard seemed like a new place altogether. It might throw her off for a second, playing to Ilvi's advantage.

Vicious suncrowns—the lot of them.

April stepped into the courtyard and craned her neck up to the arched windows on one side of the second floor. The Advisers lined the spaces, looking down at her with passive frowns.She couldn't care less what most of them were called. Her eyes landed on the familiar figure with light brown hair and flat face. Elami Caizu gripped the wall's balustrade, her gaze the most acidic one thrown into April's way.

April flashed them a smile—one exuding the confidence she's going to win—despite the doubts crowding her mind and the fear driving her heart insane. It's all going to be fine. She'd get what she wanted. Ilvi was nothing but a block on her path. She would avenge Hera. She would root out the people working with Melron.

She'd save Falkirta who clearly didn't know it was in danger.

All in a day's work.

"Enter Ilvi Aledryl," Elami's voice rang through the hollow courtyard.

April heard just the hushed shuffle of soles against the cobblestones and the faint clink of metal. She turned. Her gaze landed on a sprite with a clean-shaven, angular face, tanned skin, and piercing amber eyes. He walked with the grace of a hunter but with the confidence of a predator. Unlike April's prediction, he wore the same thing as her—just light armor with metal pads thrown over a simple tunic and trousers. The way his hand rested calmly on the pommel of the long sword strapped to his side told April enough.

This man was full of himself.

"Enter April Sylkrana," Elami said. A calculated drip of poison laced with the Potentate's tone.

April walked further, stopping somewhere in the middle of the courtyard. Ilvi did the same, closing the distance between them and stopping only when the tips of their boots were only inches apart.

"The rules are simple," Elami continued. "You can take as long as you wish but the challenge ends when one of you drops their weapon or becomes unable to stand for longer than five seconds."

Elami raised her hand in the air. "On my mark," she said. "Begin."

She swiped her hand down.

Ilvi whizzed forward in a blur. April spread her wings, her magic running wild under her skin. A huge gust of wind tore from her fingers, driving her back and Ilvi away from her. Almost immediately, an opposing column answered, coming from her opponent.

April gritted her teeth. He didn't even let her draw her weapon. Their initial magical exchange had stirred dust and a haze of fog in their midst. She cursed, straining her eyes through the veil. He could be anywhere.

Something flashed silver. April's sword slid up its sheath, blocking a slash to her side. A growl tore off her lips as she whipped her leg over, hooking her foot over Ilvi's sword. Then, she swung off him, her wings flapping in the wind. Her magic blasted off her hands in a strong gust. A lumpy blur shot through the fog and slammed against the wall. Hard enough to crack the bricks. If he's wise, he'd let go of his weapon now.

The fog cleared to reveal Ilvi still standing, clutching his shoulder. April landed on the ground, drawing her sword fully this time. The polished glint of the silver blade brought some sense of pride in her as she strode forward. While Ilvi was still recovering.

She swung. Struck.

Embers colored the air in vicious sparks as she and Ilvi exchanged blows. Parry. Lunge. Roll. Duck. Strike. Swipe. It was a blur but somehow, April was keeping up. Metal clanged against metal. April blocked Ilvi's swing, her sword pressing against her shoulder. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face as she gritted her teeth. That was close.

They stayed locked like that, April blocking Ilvi's sword from cleaving her shoulders and him driving his blade deeper against hers.

"Why are you doing this?" Ilvi asked through his bared teeth. Like her, he looked like he was having a hard time keeping up with her. That's good news. "Why drag me with your mess at all times?"

April knitted her eyebrows. At all times? It didn't sound like this was the first time the court called him down from Vafron to do their bidding. Then, from up close, she noticed the wings curling from his back in raised tension. The feathers were black.

That meant—

He was the one watching her. And the court ordered him. If anything, he was also the one who shot metal prongs through Hera. He's the one responsible.

April bared her teeth. "Why am I doing this?" she hissed. "So I could cut off your head for killing my friend."

With a cry, she drove him off her, swinging her sword in the widest arc she could. Red tinted her vision as she lunged and leaped, never caring how Ilvi's face looked like he didn't know what April was talking about. He killed Hera. He schemed with the council, probably bartered something in return, to get rid of her and her friend.

They all should pay.

Ilvi's attacks slowed just as April's increased. The wind howled in her ears with her every swing. She forced Ilvi back against the wall, his back foolishly pressing against it. The thread pulled taut. This was her victory.

She planted her feet on the ground, then using the wind behind her, propelled herself forward with the strongest swing she could manage. A loud clang reverberated across the courtyard. Her muscles screamed in agony as the vibrations crawled up her arm.

Ilvi grunted as he blocked April's swing with his blade, locking them at a stalemate once more. "I didn't kill anyone," he said. "I was asked to watch your movements and nothing else. Is that why you're doing this?"

April would have scoffed and spat in his face but she decided to indulge him since he was being talkative. Sharpen her own tongue in the process. "I need to save Falkirta," she said. "I need the authority and the power for it. And those fools are in my way. You are in my way."

Ilvi pushed off the wall, driving April back. He swung his sword at her and she blocked just as well. "I'm just following orders," he said. "No hard feelings."

April screamed as she swept a column of air towards the side of his head. She ducked at his own lance of slicing wind and swung her leg against his ankles. Bone connected against bone. The world slowed as Ilvi fell backwards, losing his balance. His back slammed against the ground, making him gasp. April screamed as she drove her sword towards his throat.

Ilvi rolled out the side, bringing his sword up. His blade hit April's wrist guard, jarring her veins. Her hold on her sword loosened. She scrambled away from him, her other hand clutching her injured arm. What the—

Like there was something culling her movements, she couldn't quite feel her fingers. Her knuckles still thankfully circled the hilt of her sword albeit a little loose. One strike and she doubted she'd survive without her sword clattering to the ground. She whipped to him as he was staggering up. What did he do?

Ilvi wiped his sleeve against the side of his head. His tunic came up with blotches of red. April made him bleed. That's a good sign. Then, she felt a stinging sensation in her scalp. When she imitated Ilvi, her sleeve came away red too.

Great. Now they're both bleeding.

April ground her teeth. The game was just starting too.

"You won't be able to take in any blows with that hand," Ilvi lowered his sword. Everything was surprisingly still around them. Not a squeak could be heard from the spectating Advisers by the arches.

April growled. "You don't know anything," she spat. "What did they even offer you? A mansion? A slew of women?"

Ilvi didn't seem bothered by April's insults. He dropped into a stance. "How badly do you want to win today?" he asked.

April matched his stance despite the annoying tingling in her veins. Her magic blazed its trail, warm enough to start sparking underneath her skin. "So much I'm imagining your head flying off your neck," she said.

Then, as one, they charged at each other.

A swish. A sword clattered to the ground in a metallic clang.

April stepped back, her own sword clutched in her weak fingers. Her breath heaved against her cheek as her eyes searched Ilvi's, looking for any reason as to why he did what he did.

"April Sylkrana, win," came Elami's voice laced with the tiniest hint of ire and shock.

She saw it, how just as their swords were going to meet, Ilvi loosened his hold. When her blade clashed against his, he practically threw his weapon to the ground. To the onlookers, it looked like April did drive the sword out of his hands. None of them would know about April's weakened swing and Ilvi's hidden surrender.

No one would know except for the two of them.

Tears pricked the corner of April's eyes. She didn't win. Not in the disadvantage she let Ilvi have over her. He let her win by simply giving up. How would that make her feel? Like crap, most probably.

She glared at Ilvi who sighed and bent down to pick his weapon up. He gave it a quick look-over for damages before facing her. He froze, seemingly aware of her gaze piercing his form. Then, ever so slowly, he met her eyes.

"Why did you do it?" April seethed. Her fist balled, her other hand twitching against the hilt of her sword. "Why did you let me win?"

Ilvi looked at her like she had just gone insane. Maybe she did, when she realized nothing ever did go according to her plan since she started. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said. "You won fair and square."

"Don't kid me, you piece of lint," April stalked forward and was about to grab the soldier by the collar of his splotchy tunic when the Advisers filed into the courtyard behind him. Instead, Ilvi sidestepped her and patted her shoulder. Then, he was out of the training grounds altogether.

April turned to the line of Advisers who just earlier were so sure of themselves. Ilvi was the one who made this possible. He let April see the smug smile from Elami's face melt and drop to the floor in a sopping mess.

The real question was...why? Why in Pidmena's name would Ilvi let her win? Wouldn't he get in trouble with his job if the council punished him for his shortcomings?

Then, it clicked. He knew what April staked in this challenge. If he made her feel like she was indebted to him, with the council under her control, she wouldn't let them do anything to him. That's why he let her win. That's why April would go and punish them all instead.

Because now that the council was under her thumb, even if it wasn't completely by her skill and effort, there wasn't anything that would escape her wrath.