THE CLOCKWORK CAPTIVE

Chapter 3: Duel of the Doomed

The morning air at the royal training grounds was crisp, smelling of damp earth and sharpening stones. Zavi stood on the gravel circle, the weight of the practice sword feeling like an anchor in his hand. Jeremy was already there, pacing like a caged panther, his blade gleaming under the pale sun.

"Ready to be humiliated, Zavi?" Jeremy barked, pointing his tip toward Zavi’s chest.

"I’m ready for this to be over," Zavi replied, his voice dry. "Can we skip the monologue?"

"Big talk for a man with one foot in the grave," Jeremy sneered.

"Is that all you’ve got? I thought you were supposed to be a threat, not a critic," Zavi countered, rolling his neck.

Jeremy lunged. His footwork was precise, his blade singing through the air. Zavi sidestepped, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Moving a bit slow today, Jeremy?" Zavi taunted, purposely dropping his guard by pulling his right shoulder back.

"Don't mock me!"

Jeremy swung again, a vicious overhead arc meant to cleave a shoulder. Zavi deliberately tripped over his own heel, his body careening backward.

"Whoa—!" Zavi let out a fake shout, his arms windmilling in the air.

"Die!" Jeremy screamed, abandoning all form, his momentum carrying him forward with reckless, murderous intent.

Zavi hit the ground hard, his back jarring against the packed dirt. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the cold sting of steel. But instead, there was a sickening thwack, a grunt, and then a heavy thud.

Zavi blinked open one eye. Jeremy lay sprawled in the dirt, his face having collided squarely with the heavy wooden post of the training dummy. His sword had skittered ten feet away.

"Is he… breathing?" Zavi muttered, scrambling to his feet.

A spectator in the crowd whispered, "Did you see that? Zavi dodged, baited him into the post, and finished him with a counter-maneuver!"

"I didn't bait him," Zavi muttered under his breath, dusting off his trousers. "I tripped."

"Incredible," another voice chimed in.

Zavi spun around. Serafia stood at the edge of the grounds, her gloved hands clasped elegantly in front of her. She looked like she had just witnessed a masterpiece.

"Serafia? How long have you been standing there?" Zavi asked, his pulse accelerating for entirely different reasons.

"Long enough to see you dismantle a man without even drawing a drop of blood," she said, gliding toward him. She ignored the unconscious Jeremy entirely.

"It was an accident," Zavi insisted, his voice rising in frustration. "I fell. He hit a pole. It wasn't a tactical genius moment."

Serafia laughed, a sound like glass chimes. "Always so modest. That’s what makes you so infuriatingly perfect."

"I am not perfect. I am trying to lose! I am actively attempting to be the most incompetent candidate in this city!" Zavi grabbed his own hair, pulling at the roots.

"And yet, here you are, standing, while he is sleeping on the floor," she murmured, stepping into his space. She reached out, adjusting the collar of his coat with a lingering touch. "Is this your way of telling me you’ll protect me from the others? By taking them out so quietly?"

"I don't want to protect you. I want you to go away," Zavi hissed.

"You say that, but your heart is racing," she whispered, her eyes fixed on his throat. "You’re breathless, flushed, and trembling. Is it the fight, Zavi? Or is it me?"

Zavi stepped back, hitting the very post Jeremy had ruined. "It’s the sheer stupidity of this situation. I’m cursed. That’s the only explanation."

"Perhaps," she agreed, her gaze turning predatory. "Or perhaps you’re finally realizing that you aren't the one in control here."

"I am in control of my own life," Zavi snapped.

"Are you?" She gestured to the air around him. "The duel is won. Your reputation is now that of a calculated warrior. Everyone is watching you, Zavi. The more you try to fade into the background, the more you shine."

Zavi looked up. The blue screen flickered into existence in his peripheral vision.

[WARNING: LIFEFORCE EXPIRATION IMMINENT. 22 DAYS REMAINING.]

"Twenty-two days," Zavi whispered, his spirit sagging. "Great."

"What was that?" Serafia tilted her head, her expression softening into a mask of faux-concern.

"Nothing," Zavi said, pushing past her. "I’m going home. Don't follow me."

"I don't need to follow you," she called out, her voice smooth and cold. "I’ve already sent the invitations for tomorrow’s banquet. It’s an honor for the champion of the morning, after all."

Zavi stopped dead. "A banquet? I’m not going."

"It’s not a request, Zavi," she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper that traveled through the quiet training grounds. "If you don't show up, people will start to wonder why the man who just conquered a rival is so afraid of a celebration. Are you a hero, or are you hiding something?"

Zavi turned back to see her watching him, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She looked like a spider who had just watched a fly struggle against a web, noting every twitch.

"You’re doing this on purpose," Zavi realized, his voice hollow. "You’re building me up so you can break me."

"I'm merely giving you what you deserve," she said, walking away, her silk dress rustling against the grass like a warning. "Don't be late. I've prepared a seat right next to mine."

Zavi watched her walk away, his hands shaking. He looked down at the unconscious Jeremy, then at the cheering crowd, and finally at the timer counting down his final seconds.

He hadn't escaped the trap. He’d just tightened the knot.