28. Stella

One moment I was about to kiss my husband, and the next, he's in a knife fight.

The fighting that's been going on all around us has stopped. Every warrior in the place is looking at En'Zal and Ro'Kal as they circle each other, blades drawn.

Even though they're both Erullian kings, they look nothing alike. En'Zal is big and strong, Ro'Kal slim and wiry.

They clash. Steel hits steel.

En'Zal is stronger, but Ro'Kal is faster. They dance around each other, and I'm so scared I can't breathe.

In the blink of an eye the blue king rushes forwards. Ro'Kal cuts my groom. Blood trickles from a gash on En'Zal's arm, his beautiful garb in tatters.

Fear squeezes my heart. "En'Zal, no!" I cry out.

Ro'Kal laughs cruelly. "Yes, cry for him," he says. "You'll be crying a lot, human. Start now!"

En'Zal's jaw tightens with determination. "Enjoy this moment while it lasts, cousin, for it will be your last."

They clash again. Ro'Kal strikes. En'Zal dodges. His clothes are slashed again. There is a kick, and a fall. En'Zal is on his back. My heart stops as Ro'Kal descends upon him, his knife aimed at the king's heart.

At the last possible moment En'Zal rolls away. Ro'Kal's knife hits the stone and is jammed right into the rock.

En'Zal hops up and punches Ro'Kal square in the face. Blood flies through the air as the enemy king staggers backwards.

"Yield," En'Zal demands.

"Never!" Ro'Kal says. "If I cannot have the human… neither can you!"

His crazy eyes dart towards me and he suddenly lunges at me, his mouth open wide, fangs glistening.

The next moment a glistening blade protrudes from his chest. The enemy king stops dead in his tracks, his eyes darting down in surprise.

And then En'Zal kicks him off his blade, and Ro'Kal crumples to the floor. Dead.

I can barely believe my eyes. Is it over?

With their leader defeated, the Kalnian warriors surrender instantly. It seems only fear of their leader motivated them.

En'Zal drops his knife and pulls me close. "Are you okay?" He asks.

"Are you?" I ask as I take a look at his arm. Thick red blood still drips out the wound. "You're hurt."

"Barely a scratch," En'Zal says.

The chapel is a mess. Broken glass, blood, injured warriors. A dead king at our feet. Chairs knocked over. The chapel is empty, save for us, Khi'Zal, and several warriors.

But none of that matters. En'Zal cups my cheek, and I look deeply into his eyes.

And then, finally, we kiss.