Oliver turned back around, trying to get June's concerned look out of his mind. He couldn't blame her; he knew he'd have been terrified if the roles were reversed. Still, a little vote of confidence from her would've been nice.
"Get into position," Lawrence shouted from the sidelines, his excitement evident. Oliver quickly glanced over to Lawrence, hoping to get a bit of reassurance from his supposed best friend. All he got was a grin that told him Lawrence was here solely for the entertainment of watching Oliver get his ass kicked. Perfect.
Oliver scowled as he took up a defensive stance, now ten times more motivated to win than before. He took a deep breath and focused in on Ryelin. With a wide, grounded stance, it appeared as if Ryelin was going to start on the defensive, too. But the slight upward angle of his sword had Oliver shifting his weight to the front of his feet, ready to dodge the opening swing that Ryelin was trying so hard to hide.
Lawrence called for the match to start, and just as Oliver had expected, Ryelin made a sharp change to his stance, followed by a swift, upward slice. Much to Ryelin's surprise and annoyance, Oliver managed not only to dodge the swing but counter it, too.
"I'll take it that you're not used to people catching that move of yours?" Oliver taunted as he reset his stance.
"You might just be the first," Ryelin responded with a tinge of frustration.
"You must be practicing with the blind, then. The angle of your sword makes it so obvious."
Irritated, Ryelin gritted his teeth and made a rash move that Oliver once again blocked. Ryelin's futile attacks continued on for a minute, then two, then ten, each one being parried by Oliver. Muscles ached, and feet dragged as the match passed the ten-minute mark, Ryelin visibly more exhausted than his opponent. Trying to wrap things up before he ran out of energy, Ryelin's offense had grown sloppy and brazen. His fatigue and desperation were evident, and Oliver prepared to take full advantage of that. As Ryelin took his next swing, Oliver dodged but made a misstep. His footing slipped, and he was knocked to one knee. Ryelin saw what he thought to be a perfect opening and confidently smiled.
Though Oliver was out of breath, he played up his exhaustion by feigning being unable to get up. He made sure that Ryelin watched as he pretended to struggle, even raising his head. Down on one knee, he looked up frantically as Ryelin walked forward. With a nonchalant stride and lazy grin, Ryelin was sure he'd come out victorious and was savoring his assumed glory. There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his expression as he dug his heel into Oliver's sword, shifting his weight to press it into the dirt. And that casual act of boasting was his biggest mistake.
Ryelin went to raise his sword to declare his win but froze when he saw Oliver's smirk. Before Ryelin even had a chance to question the expression, Oliver ripped the sword from beneath his foot and knocked him off balance. In one swift motion, Oliver jumped up and swept Ryelin's feet out from under him.
As the dust settled, the final winner became clear. Ryelin was on his back, with the point of Oliver's sword pointed directly at his chest while his own was far from reach.
"You were never scared, were you?" Ryelin asked,
"Not for a second," Oliver said, reaching his hand out to help Ryelin up. With a defeated shake of his head, Ryelin took Oliver's hand and got to his feet. Ryelin stalked back to his friends, more than just his pride bruised, while Oliver walked over to gloat at Lawrence.
"You survived," Lawrence said with a laugh as he clasped Oliver's hand in congratulations. "That was a pretty slight stunt you pulled there."
"I couldn't have done it without your… resounding support."
"So glad I could help," Lawrence said, grabbing his own sword from where it rested against the wall. "I'm expecting you to cheer for me."
"I'll cheer for you as long as you don't look cooler than I did when I won!" Oliver shouted as Lawrence walked toward the center of the ring.
Lawrence looked over his shoulder, "you say that like it'll be hard!"
❧
I watched with amusement as Oliver and Lawrence bickered. They were too far away for me to hear them, but Oliver's face had dropped into a scowl quickly enough for me to know that Lawrence's nerves hadn't stopped him from getting the better of his best friend. Even after taking up a position on the outside of the center ring, Oliver kept his eyes on Lawrence and Sawyer.
"You're staring," Ryia said, leaning her arms against the railing next to me, "are you really that sad that he hasn't given you any attention yet?"
"Nope," I said, immediately stepping back, "not listening to you."
"You've been doing that a lot recently."
"Shouldn't you be getting pretty nervous right now?" I snapped, shifting the attention onto her. "You seem a little too calm for someone whose cr–"
"Point taken," she cut me off, then lowered her voice, "and of course, I'm nervous. Some of us are just capable of controlling our expressions."
"I thought you said that we just needed to have faith?" I asked.
"I said you just needed to have faith. You were stressing for no reason. I, on the other hand, have a perfect reason to be worried."
"And what reason would that be?"
"If you'd spent as much time paying your attention to your surroundings as you spent staring, you'd have heard that someone is apparently off their game today?"
"Really?" I asked
"Apparently, he hasn't won a single one of his matches today. Some of the guys were talking about it as we walked in."
How was that even possible? Lawrence had always been praised for his combat skills. Sawyer was the only one who could even be considered on his level.
"Wait, how could he have lost already, I thought this just started?" I asked, growing more confused by the second.
"It started over an hour ago. I was curious as to why Oliver wanted us to come later, but I'm not complaining. I'm almost glad that I wasn't here to see him lose."
No way, I thought as I looked down at the two men preparing themselves in the center of the arena. From the dirt and cuts on his clothes, Lawrence looked like he'd been battered around, but his expression wasn't that of someone who'd been on a losing streak. He looked calm, almost confident, and he stood strong in front of Sawyer. Despite having apparently lost multiple times, he didn't show any signs of tiredness, but the same couldn't be said for Sawyer.
While he was confident, and his attire was still pristine with not a single speck of dust on him, his exhaustion was evident. He'd won every match he'd been in so far, but it had drained him to do so. His face was splotchy, and his breathing heavy; he had even wrapped his wrist for support. There was a stark difference in their conditions, and in a match where their skill levels were equal, something like that could easily tip the scales. Had they both been in prime condition, it would be impossible to guess who would win. But Sawyer had drained himself long before we'd gotten there, and as it was now, he stood no chance against his cousin.
I looked at Oliver, even more impressed now than I had been after he'd beaten Ryelin. He, too, was oddly calm as he watched, like he already knew the outcome. Sensing my eyes on him, Oliver looked over his shoulder with a smug grin.
"I don't think you have anything to be worried about either, Ryia," I said, leaning against the railing, excited for the show.
❧
It took everything Sawyer had in him to hold his stance and fight against the pain of his aching muscles. But he couldn't let anyone see that. He had to look as if he thought his victory was ensured.
"I'm excited to face you, cousin. But try not to embarrass our bloodline too much with your loss," Sawyer sneered through gritted teeth. At this point, his only option was to try and intimidate Lawrence to the point where he'd make a clumsy mistake.
"I'll do my best not to," Lawrence responded without fear. Oliver had been right when he told him to save his energy for the last round. He could see just how tired Sawyer was and had little doubt that he'd easily overpower him. Everything had worked out perfectly.
"You sound a little too confident for someone who has been losing all morning," Sawyer said, still trying to rattle him. But all Lawrence did was snicker as he took up an offensive stance, not even trying to hide where he intended to make his first move.
From the first strike, it was clear that Lawrence would come out victorious. Sawyer was barely able to hold his sword up, let alone attack with any proficiency. All he could do was attempt to block the clean offensive strikes that Lawrence easily landed. Within minutes, Sawyer's frustration has turned into desperation. Despite pushing himself to his absolute limit, he knew that his defeat was imminent. He only had a minute or so left to make a move before his body would give out. He stepped back, putting enough space between Lawrence and him to collect himself. Then, in a last-ditch attempt at victory, Sawyer made a mad lunge forward and brought his sword straight down towards Lawrence.
But Lawrence blocked it easily, not even fazed in the slightest. Sawyer put all his might into trying to overpower Lawrence, but his strength wavered just long enough for Lawrence to knock him back and off balance. Sawyer's sword was knocked onto his hand, and his legs finally gave out.
Sawyer fell to the ground, and Lawrence immediately brought the tip of his sword toward to his cousin's chest.
"I'm sorry for not being as much of an embarrassment as you'd hoped," Lawrence said as he dropped his sword and walked away, leaving Sawyer behind in the center of the ring.
❧
Both Ryia and I stood frozen, shocked at how effortlessly Lawrence had defeated Sawyer. Even Ryia had a hard time hiding just how impressed she was by Lawrence's display. I rocked on the balls of my feet, brimming with excitement and pride as Lawrence met up with Oliver. Oliver's plan had worked perfectly, and I couldn't wait to go talk to him about it.
"Can I?" I asked Ryia as I tilted my head toward where Oliver was now congratulating Lawrence.
She laughed and nodded. "Go ahead. I'm going to stay up here for now, but congratulate Lawrence for me." With her approval, I hurried down the stairs to where Oliver and Lawrence were standing.
"You planned that whole thing out, didn't you?" I asked Oliver as soon as he was in ear shot. Both Oliver and Lawrence turn to me, their backs to Sawyer.
"I told you I had something special planned," Oliver beamed. I couldn't help but smile at just how proud he was that his plan had worked out.
"I almost didn't believe him at first," Lawrence added, clapping Oliver on the back with a smile, "but he managed to convince me to listen to him, and I'm glad he did."
"You act like I've never had a smart idea before," Oliver griped, though his proud smile didn't waver. "You need to have a little more faith in me," he pointed at me, "both of you do."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't doubt you for a second," I said.
"Don't even try to pretend like you weren't expecting me to lose," Oliver responded, though there wasn't a trace of anger in his voice. He was too smug over how impressed I was to be annoyed.
"Also," I started, turning to Lawrence, "Ryia wanted me to congratulate you."
"Really?" Lawrence asked, his eyes bright. His face flushed, and he ducked his head out of embarrassment just enough for me to see what was happening behind him. My stomach twisted immediately as I saw Sawyer picking up his sword and staring right at the three of us.
My eyes met his, and with Oliver and Lawrence's backs to him, I was the only one of us who could see him make a mad dash toward Lawrence with his sword in hand. Without thinking it through, I grabbed Lawrence's sword from his hand and sidestepped around Lawrence. I threw his sword up defensively, bracing its end with my other hand, just in time to stop Sawyer as he brought his sword down toward Lawrence. The clash of steel against steel was loud enough to silence everyone around us.
With the adrenaline rushing through me, I could barely feel it as Sawyer shifted the pressure of his sword so that mine twisted in my hand. Steel sliced through the skin of my palm, and as blood began to pour from my hand, I looked up at Sawyer and smiled.