The tournament field looked a lot larger once Maize stepped foot on the packed dirt, and the crowd surrounding it much more ominous. Their murmurs and hollers echoed across, back and forth ricocheting each other until the cacophony could no longer be drowned out by the pounding in her head and the hammering of her heart. But all of that seemed to deafen as Findara approached.

The Lady of Alynthi dragged behind her a two-handed broadsword, its blade drawing a line in the mud behind her as she approached an incredibly confused Maize. Immediately she put her hands in front of her, both defensively and to remind her she was unarmed, but the look in the other woman's eyes was dark and lethal like a demonic possession had taken over her mind. Perhaps it had, if she was truly going to do this.

"Whatever it is you think I did," Maize started as she kept her distance from Findara, backing up step by step. "You heard incorrectly. We don't need to do this."

"You have done nothing but embarrass me, my name, my court, and all of Dreduor the moment you stepped foot in that ballroom," she snarled as she continued in her approach. "And now you dare insult me on top of it?"

"I don't even know you!"

"But you seemed to know my husband well enough."

"What—" The insinuation was enough to have Maize pull her attention from Findara and find Cade up in his seat. The smug bastard was watching them with an amused smirk across a face that deserved to be punched. Gone was the injured man, who was in too much pain to even join them for dinner. There she saw the same shithead who betrayed his best friend when they were caught in a compromisable position and wanted to save his own ass. And now Findara thought she wanted him?

Maize bared her teeth. She should have challenged him the moment she saw him across the tournament field and finished the job on his other leg. That she even considered biting her tongue for Ress' benefit...

"Did your husband ever tell you how he knew Ress?"

Findara seemed taken aback that Maize dared speak to her, like she was going to accept the challenge without question. "Not that I owe you any explanation, but Restor is my husband's childhood friend—"

"—who can probably fuck Cade better than you ever could."

Findara paled before her complexion turned a vibrant red. "Cade would never. Restor took advantage of him, wanting him only for his money. For his position. He was nothing without Caden. That's why he's crawling back now, and that's why he owed Cade by being his proxy."

"So where is he now?"

"You tell me. You kept him away from his obligation. You have done nothing but embarrass my family name. You knew Restor was supposed to fight today. He owed Cade a debt. But your selfish, lowborn presence believes you actually have a say in any of this."

"You don't know me!" Maize felt like she was a parrot repeating the same thing over and over with the same lack of comprehension. "And you don't know Ress, or Cade for that matter, if that's what you really think what's going on."

"I know my husband better than anyone else in this world. Stop. Lying!"

With a groan, Findara lifted the broadsword up and brought it down hard between them. There was still enough space and Maize had plenty of time to step back and again, but that she still had the audacity to continue this spectacle.

"So why me?" Maize asked, deciding now was the ideal time to sidestep her way towards her own weapons cache. "Ress was Cade's proxy and he's not here. It looks like he's the one bringing shame upon your household— not me."

"I know it was you who kept Cade from fighting today. You orchestrated that attack on the Wild Hunt so he wouldn't be able to win Grand Champion."

"Why would I even care? I wasn't even there!"

"No, you were warm and comfortable in the Prince's bed, hiding behind the royal name as if that would give you immunity for your actions."

"Now you sound like something who's more jealous of me than of Ress."

"I don't need the Prince's cock in my mouth to get his attention." Findara smirked as if amused by her own comment. "Does he even know what you are?"

Maize faltered in her step but thankfully recovered— her dress was long enough to hide her footwork and she manufactured it to move more gracefully towards the weapons. "I'm the Prince's courtier, last I checked."

"You're a fraud. A whore. An addict. And I will not rest until you are exposed for a traitor to Dreduor with your head on a pike."

Maize didn't even have the chance to let the insults register. Not as Findara was sweeping the sword back up in a threatening arch. Maize had limited options— either she'd have to step back, trying to avoid the blade but tripping over her dress at the same time, or...

Kill.

As if possessed, Maize spun, flipped and skidded to a three-point stance in the dirt before the broadsword hit the ground where she previously stood. Gasps were audible throughout the stands and Findara's roar of frustration sent Maize sprinting towards the weapons.

None of the options were anything she would have chosen herself. There were more broadswords, falchions, claymores and daggers than Maize would ever need, but none were polished and all appeared too dull to actually do any serious damage. She hoped. That didn't mean they couldn't hurt, and defending herself was the name of the game.

"MAIZELYN! WATCH OUT!"

Laris' call from across the field almost took her attention away to look at him, but it was enough for Maize to choose fast. With a dagger in each hand, she spun around from the weapons rack, her skirts caked with dirt and mud swishing around her ankles, just in time to catch the falling broadsword between the blades.

"I'm going to rid the world of you so you can't ruin anyone else's life," Findara spat as she put pressure on the blade, pushing Maize back until she could find her footing and retaliate.

Maize gritted her teeth as the applied counterpressure through the daggers to keep the broadsword as far away from her face as possible. "If you think I'm the one ruining your life, maybe you need to reassess what the hell is wrong with it to begin with."

Apparently, that was not what Findara wanted to hear, because she let out not her blood curdling scream to convey her aggravation when the sword was pressed closer against Maize's blade but still had not yet drawn blood. She could smell the oil and dirt on the blade, mixed with the sweat and angst of the battlefield. When she found Ress? He was not going to hear the end of this. She didn't care what his reasons or excuses. He never should have gotten involved with Cade again, and therefore, never would have gotten her involved with Findara.

The time to kill is now.

Despite the raging headache, another surge of unexpected energy coursed through Maize's body, down her core and out her arms. With her own frustrated cry, she dug her slippered feet into the dirt and pushed back against Findara's onslaught, the muscles in her arms roaring in agony but she didn't stop, couldn't stop, not until the tables were turned and Maize had the upper hand. Findara's footing began to slip, her heels too late a mistake for the challenge she chose to issue, and soon Maize's pressure against her blade was enough for her feet to slip out from under her, the fall to her back disarming the blade from her grip.

Maize didn't waste a moment. Like a wild beast, she pounced on her fallen prey, straddling the fallen female's thighs while the blades of her daggers crossed and pressed against Findara's neck like a thread waiting to be snipped. The Lady's eyes were wide and body went rigid, as if she didn't expect such a reaction from the Prince's consort. And if Maize could have been perfectly honest, neither did she.

"Yield," she hissed with a tone of voice that even she had a hard time recognizing.

Findara turned her head to spit dirt out of her mouth, which seemed like a stupid thing to do with blades pressed to either side of her neck. "To trash like you? I'd rather die."

Die. Die. Die.

Maize grit her teeth at the pounding inside her skull in time with every punctuation of the word. Findara really was delusional if she thought that was her only option. But that didn't stop her from applying more pressure, the blades pressing hard against Findara's skin causing her to cry out in surprise. One dagger even seemed to be sharp enough to cut skin after all, because a drop of blood appeared and started to trickle down her neck.

The sight of it caught Maize by surprise, though there was a certain thrill to it.

"Don't be dense. And don't make me say it again. Yield."

"I will become the laughing stock in all of Dreduor at your expense, whore."

"You already are."

A harder press, a deeper cut. More blood, a louder cry—one that almost sounded like a plea for mercy.

But all Maize could think about was the blood running down her throat, the feeling of the daggers in her hands, the tension coursing through the body between her legs. Her teeth clenched hard, a feeble attempt to focus through the agony between her temples.

How easy it would be.

"So easy," she whispered in response to the revenant plaguing her mind while the world around her seemed to numb, the sounds dim. What if she gave in? Would it be so bad? She had been fighting its control for so long, but it only brought discourse to the other aspects of her life. What if she decided to not fight any longer? To allow this energy, this power to take over, to make her decisions, to control her..

Control.

She was tired. Tired of always having being in control. Tired of always having to pretend she was someone—something—she was not. What if she showed the world who she truly was? No one would have control over her anymore.

Just one more.

"One more..."

"MERCY!"

Cade's unexpected outcry through the silence snapped Maize out of her internal reverie and she blinked, looking down at Findara beneath her.

The Lady of Alynthi was as white as a specter, her eyes wide full with tears and mouth agape in a silent scream. Both blades of Maize's daggers had found purchase in the flesh of her neck, blood freely flowing to create a sadistic ruby necklace across her delicate skin.

Blood on your hands.

Maize threw the blades aside as if they burned her palms, her chest heaving as if she had run around the kingdom itself and back. The response from the crowd surrounding the tournament field was mixed— there were groans of disappointment as if they wanted to see the bloodshed mingled with sighs of relief at the sparing of her life.

She didn't have the time to process it— any of it. Maize scrambled off of Findara's and to her feet. Her legs felt like lead and her arms numb with pins and needles. She couldn't even help Findara up and off the ground if she wanted to. That the woman looked at her as if she half-expected it, it made Maize want to grab her daggers again and stab them through her eyes.

Brushing her hands off on her dusty skirts, and turned on her heel and started to take her leave, returning not back to the stands, but toward the gates the tournament attendees rode through for their announcements. She was forced into this— she was going to leave however she wanted too.

She ignored the outcry behind her. The crowd that wanted blood. The onlookers who demanded resolution. Maybe even Findara who insisted they weren't done. But Maize didn't look back. And the guards at the gates didn't attempt to stop her when she approached, and the gates opened for her without request. She passed through without resistance.

She needed to find Ress. She needed to come clean to Laris. It was too much, too close. She couldn't do this anymore. Not like this...

More blood.

No. No more.

If Maize had anything to say about it, there would be no more blood. On anyone's hands.