The arena still carried the weight of the previous fights. Sand had been swept aside and now the marble platform stood exposed at the center. Cold. Pale. Imposing.
Violette stepped forward once more, her heels clicking lightly against the stone.
Violette: "Lyssael. Victoria."
Victoria's shoulders tightened. Before she could even respond, Lyssael moved. He stepped in front of her, not subtly, deliberately, blocking.
Lyssael: "She won't fight."
A ripple passed through the students. Violette's eyes settled on him. Unblinking.
Violette: "Excuse me?"
Lyssael: "Victoria is not in condition to fight." A slight pause. "And I will not allow her to face anyone."
The word hung in the air. Allow.
Violette's head tilted slightly. She studied him. The arena felt quieter than before.
Violette: "You will not allow?"
Her voice was soft. That made it worse.
Lyssael held his ground. Barely.
Lyssael: "Yes."
Silence stretched.
Violette: "Very well."
A faint smile appeared. It did not reach her eyes.
Violette: "You will face Iris."
Lyssael's jaw tightened. But before he could argue her gaze shifted.
Violette: "Azrael. Selena."
The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Several students straightened. Azrael looked toward Selena. She was already looking at him. Sharp. Steady.
They began walking toward the marble platform, their footsteps echoing. Before stepping onto the stone Azrael spoke quietly.
Azrael: "You're sure?"
She didn't slow.
Selena: "You bark too much." Her eyes flicked toward him. "You won't even make me move."
There was no smile. Just certainty.
Azrael: "Don't come to our room later with a blade."
The nearby students heard it. Some thought they had misheard. Others began whispering immediately, the remark spreading through the stands and multiplying into something louder than it had arrived as.
Selena didn't answer. But for a brief second there was the faintest curve at the corner of her lips.
They stepped onto the marble. Cold underfoot. The arena seemed larger from up there.
Then Lyssael's voice cut through the silence. Loud. Sharp.
Lyssael: "This is ridiculous!"
All eyes turned. He had stepped forward again, his stare fixed on Azrael. Not Selena. Azrael.
Lyssael: "You would let some stray dog from the slums lay hands on the Princess?!"
The word stray spread through the arena like a stain. Several students shifted uncomfortably.
Lyssael: "This pairing is an insult."
For the first time since the session began Violette's expression changed. The light amusement disappeared. Her gaze sharpened. She turned toward Lyssael slowly, no rush, no raised voice, just presence. The air grew heavy.
Violette: "Would you prefer..."
A thin smile formed. Tight. Unsettling.
Violette: "That Azrael fight Victoria instead?"
The shift was immediate. Lyssael froze. Victoria stiffened. Selena's eyes flickered once. Lyssael understood the implication instantly. His jaw clenched. He lowered his gaze slightly.
Lyssael: "I apologize." A breath. "To you. And to the Princess."
He did not look at Azrael. Then, after a second, he did. A single glance. Hard. Teeth pressed together. No apology.
He turned sharply and walked back toward the tribunes. Sat down. Rigid. Victoria followed quietly.
On the marble platform Azrael rolled his shoulders once, loosened his wrists, as if none of it had happened.
Selena stepped closer, lower voice now.
Selena: "Don't take it personally."
Azrael: "I don't."
Selena: "He grew up with certain standards. Rank. Blood. Distance." She glanced toward Lyssael briefly. "He doesn't like nobles mixing with non-nobles."
Azrael finally looked at her. His expression didn't shift.
Azrael: "I don't care about his beliefs. We fight. That's all."
Selena's eyes narrowed slightly. Not offended. Testing.
Selena: "Good."
She stepped into position opposite him. The marble reflected light under their feet. Students leaned forward in the stands. Even Iris had gone quiet.
Violette stepped between them and raised her hand. The arena fell into complete silence.
Before the signal Selena spoke one last time. Low. Clear.
Selena: "I won't let a stray win."
No anger. No shouting. Just a line drawn.
Azrael looked at her. Unmoved.
Violette's hand began to descend.
And the arena held its breath.