The next morning, the jungle felt quieter.

  Not peaceful — just… waiting.

  Rell sat on a low branch overlooking the mist-heavy glade, eyes half-lidded, chewing on a piece of dried fruit he didn’t remember pulling from his pouch.

  He was thinking. Which, for Rell, usually meant brooding in silence until something exploded.

  Below, Nexya stood on a stone slab, arms outstretched like a performer mid-scene. Her wild white hair was tied into twin arcs that bounced as she spun dramatically.

  “You’re sulking,” she sang.

  “Not sulk,” Rell muttered. “Think.”

  Nexya cocked her head. “You thinking or stewing?”

  “Same. In brain.”

  She hopped up beside him. “Still crying about sword girl?”

  Rell side-eyed her. “She save me. Help kids. Now caged.”

  “She chose that,” Nexya said, poking him. “She made her bed.”

  “She protect. I fix.”

  “You're lucky you're hot when you’re dumb,” Nexya muttered.

  Ko Mala emerged from behind a thick root network, his staff balanced on two fingers like a compass needle. “Whatever plan you're brewing,” he said lazily, “best not involve fire. Or flight. Or flying fire.”

  “No fire,” Rell mumbled. “Maybe knife.”

  “Better,” Ko Mala said with mock approval. “Stab plans are less flammable.”

  Nexya leaned forward. “So you *want* to break her out? Because that’ll make you a marked criminal.”

  “No break. Must fix without burn,” Rell muttered, pressing two fingers to his forehead like it helped.

  She tilted her head. “Then what’s the move, jungle genius?”

  Ko Mala raised a brow. “He’s not wrong to try. But the odds are filth.”

  Nexya suddenly lit up. “Wait. Wait wait wait. Trial by Combat.”

  Both men looked at her.

  Rell blinked. “That… thing?”

  “Yup,” she said, hopping in place. “Old noble rite. Dusty. Rare. *Still legal.* If someone challenges the claim over a prisoner’s fate, and wins… they get full pardon rights over that person.”

  Ko Mala whistled. “Even nobles don’t pull that card anymore.”

  “But it’s in the books,” Nexya said with a smug grin. “And Varellion *loves* the spotlight. He won’t turn it down.”

  Rell rubbed his chin. “Beat noble. Save her.”

  “She’s worth it, right?”

  He didn’t answer. But his hand clenched slowly into a fist.

  Ko Mala tapped the earth with his staff. “The arena’s in the central court. They'll hold trial tomorrow.”

  Nexya flashed a sharp smile. “You show up like a demon with perfect timing, drop your challenge, and leave the crowd screaming.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Rell looked up, half-laughing. “That… sound cool.”

  Ko Mala shook his head, sighing.

  “She gonna hate this,” he said.

  “Probably,” Nexya added. “But not if you win.”

  —

  The next day – Vellstone Guild Tower

  Thessia sat in her cell, legs folded, back straight. Her hair was unkempt, her cloak gone. She hadn't touched the food tray from last night.

  Her mind swam.

  Rell’s face kept flashing across her thoughts. That idiot. That fighter.

  He’d said he would fix this.

  She didn’t want him to.

  She didn’t want him getting hurt for her sake.

  That’s why she hadn’t spoken a word during the morning procession or the pre-trial declarations. She was protecting him the only way she knew how — by pretending he didn’t matter.

  The door opened. She didn’t move.

  Lord Varellion entered, clad in red and ivory noblewear. His coat shimmered with threadwork that spelled out his family name in hidden glyphs. A rapier dangled from his belt like a statement piece rather than a weapon.

  “I was hoping you'd reconsider.”

  Thessia glared.

  “I didn’t ask you here.”

  “You didn’t say no last time,” he replied. “Silence counts, in some courts.”

  She stood, slowly.

  “You’ve got one more chance to walk away.”

  He stepped closer. “And what? Wait for the jungle brat to challenge my house? He’s already hunted. I just need him to *try* something.”

  He smirked.

  Then the bells rang.

  The courtroom bells.

  And something like wind slammed through the building.

  ?

  The courtroom — Grand Arena Tier — Vellstone Inner Ring

  Crowds had gathered fast. The press of boots and whispered nobility turned toward the thunder that had interrupted the trial.

  From the side doors, bursting into the light with smoke and motion—

  Rell stepped in.

  Dust still in his hair. Cloak tossed over one shoulder. Shirt tied with cord, jungle vines laced into the sleeves like it was battle garb.

  He walked forward, eyes only on Thessia.

  The crowd fell to whispers. The judge raised his voice.

  “Who intrudes on this sacred—”

  Rell raised a hand.

  “I claim. Her fate. Mine to win.”

  The crowd blinked.

  “What?”

  Nexya stepped forward, grinning.

  “He challenges Lord Varellion to Trial by Combat. Ancient code. Article 8, Sub-Clause 3 of the Vellstone Oath Charter.”

  The noble turned with a slow, angry grace.

  “You dare invoke my name?”

  Rell simply nodded.

  “Beat you. Free her.”

  The judge swallowed.

  “…Combat recognized. Challenge accepted.”

  The court roared.

  And Thessia’s heart — traitor that it was — leapt into her throat.