Their eyes met over the hovering ball of ice. His wrist flicked and the ball shot toward her, breaking apart into a barrage of gleaming, sharp arrows. So fast, so deadly. She inhaled and sprayed flame across her body, melting what bolts she could, turning their water into harmless steam, but it wasn’t quite fast enough. Some of the ice arrows got through, slicing and stinging across her upper arms.

Then all was still. Even the relentless ocean winds seemed to have paused. Ofarian and Chimeran magic—fire and water, complete and utter opposites—crackled in the air. She didn’t have that Ofarian ability to sniff it out, and she could still feel it.

Griffin’s chest heaved, his arm still thrust out, his fingers curled into icy claws that thawed as she watched. His arm slapped to his side. “We are too evenly matched.”

Keko looked down at the hairline stripes of blood across her upper arms.

“I didn’t come here to fight you,” he said.

“You were just planning to haul me back to the mainland in one of those boxes my old captor—your kinsman—had made.”

“No. I want to help you, Keko. Somehow.”

That again?

The fact that he’d even opened his mouth and said something that ridiculous pissed her off even more. Maybe they couldn’t fight each other with magic because they’d just cancel each other out, but she sure as hell still had her body. She was a Chimeran warrior and this was her land. She knew where the Source was and she was physically stronger than the Queen had been when her time had come.

“You don’t want a fight?” she growled. Then she charged. Head down, thighs burning and toes digging into the dirt. Arms flung out, she slammed her shoulder into his midsection. Took Griffin’s lying ass down.

The sound of his surprise, just before his breath exploded from his lungs, was the greatest music she’d ever heard. She couldn’t stop the grin from splitting her face, though it probably looked like something evil, something animal and violent. Good.

Pinning him to the ground with her knees, she whaled him. Fists and elbows coming down again and again. He threw up blocks but did not fight back, his face twisted in a grimace. After a flurry of punches, she landed one to his cheek . . . and then she was on her back, a rock grinding into her spine, her skin abraded by the dirt. Griffin held her down by her shoulders, the muscles in his arms and chest and neck popping out. If he was affected by her enhanced body heat, he didn’t let it show, didn’t wince or pull away. Adrenaline would do that to you, would erase those warnings you were supposed to feel.

He lowered his head, got right in her face. “If you need a fight, fine. I’ll give you one.”

“I’m not going to hold back this time,” she gritted out.

He came even closer, and for a scary minute she thought he might try to kiss her. “Good. Neither will I.”

Exactly what she wanted to hear.

Power pushed itself out from her core—not fire magic, but sheer physical strength. The strength given to Keko by the Queen and the ancestors she’d brought together from all over the South Pacific.

Keko wrenched one of her legs free and slammed it up between his. He groaned and closed his eyes against the searing pain. His grip on her loosened, just a little but enough for her to wriggle out from under him and get one elbow into his neck, then another into his side. She kicked him off, then flipped to her feet over him, daring him to recover, daring him to come after her. Because she was fucking ready.

She didn’t get to be general for nothing. They hadn’t just handed her the title. She’d fought her ass off, made challenge after challenge, and she’d won them all. Against men and women who were far bigger or older or had more wins under their belt. She’d beaten them all. And now she’d beat Griffin.

Skirting away from the edge of the cliff, going deeper into the open space between the trees, she wanted to give them enough safe room to go at it.

On his knees, Griffin’s teeth were bared in pain, his hands cupping his injured junk, his eyes squeezed shut. Keko dove, going in for another attack, not wanting to miss this golden opportunity. Griffin popped alert, all show of pain instantly gone. She saw his trickery too late. His leg swept out, taking her down, smacking her skull against the ground and laying her out all over again. She saw his stars, winking there above her consciousness.

Then he was standing above her. She glimpsed a knee of his going back, a cocked foot ready to spring forward, ready to get her right in the ribs. With a jolt of power she rolled. Not away but into him, taking him out at the ankle he balanced on. He toppled forward, but true to his training, he didn’t just fall. He used the momentum to drag her with him and they rolled together.

She took an elbow to her cheek. He absorbed a punch to the chin. A heel crunched into her knee.

“You done?” he gasped. “I’m not . . . taking . . . you . . . to the . . . Senatus.”

The lies. The lies! She had to stop them, to make him choke on them. She thrust out her hand, preparing for another slam. The soreness fed her, the adrenaline kept her going. There was no weakness to succumb to. Only purpose. It’s what she was born into, what she’d been given. And to turn her back on that was an insult to her people, to her Queen, to the very Source that pulsed somewhere beneath her feet.

She flipped on top of Griffin now, clamping his waist between her thighs, fist descending again to his face. Blood glistening from cuts beneath one of his eyes and his lower lip. She’d done that. She’d done that, giving him what he deserved.

He caught her fist in his crushing grip. Fuck. Despite her best efforts to stamp it down, the weariness was finally starting to eat at her. She couldn’t give in. Not now. Not when she was so close to finishing him. Finishing this.

With a sharp twist of her arm that had her screaming, he wrenched her body down, her chest flush against his. Sweat and blood sealed them. Fire and water repelled. His closeness, the smell of him and everything he’d said and represented, made her fury burn brighter and hotter than the sun.

He spun her, rolling her again, encasing her in the vise of his legs and arms. He didn’t stop. Just kept rolling her over and over. Body over body, pain over pain. Until she didn’t know which way was the earth and which way was the sun. There was no leverage for her to go at him. There was no way to control the momentum he’d created. He just kept going and going, the ground eating at her body every time he rolled her over, his grunts coming out every time he threw her over his body.

And then there was no more ground.

It took her a mere second to realize what had happened. Where he had taken them. Their intertwined bodies had rolled off the edge of the cliff. Hundreds of feet down before the white, angry water far, far below. No safety net. Nothing but death.

Nothing her magic could ever save her from. Nothing she could do but flail. Powerlessness was the worst kind of weakness.

They fell and fell and fell, her stomach trailing feet behind.

A terror like nothing she’d ever experienced ripped through her. She let go of Griffin out of pure fear. Nothing around her. Nothing but warm air. Nothing between her body and the ocean. She saw Griffin’s face then, floating above hers, just inches away but feeling like miles, like universes, and he wore fear, too.

He was saying her name. She couldn’t hear him but she saw the letters form on his tongue, the shape of her name on his lips. His fingers grabbed her, finding her waist and shoulders. Though they were still falling, falling, falling, wind whistling all around, he managed to pull her to him, wrap her up in his limbs.

Still she fought, because he’d trained her to do that. To push him away. To hate him for how he was killing them. How he was taking away her dreams even now. How he preferred death over letting her beat him.