The banquet hall had been remade into an arena overnight.
Marble gleamed like ice, braziers guttered low along the walls, and the chandeliers burned with a pale, cold light that made every bruise on Elma's skin stand out like a signature.
Donors packed the balconies, whispering. They weren't here for diplomacy anymore. They were here for blood.
At the far end, Frostspawn's heir stepped forward—barefoot, bare-handed, his breath already misting. His hair was white-blue, his eyes shards of clear river-glass. No armor save for a shirt of interlocked frost-scales, gleaming faintly under the light.
He bowed a fraction. "Leash-witch."
Elma smiled thinly, ignoring the ache in her jaw. "Winter boy."
Nitron didn't rise from his seat on the dais. He didn't need to. "Terms."
Sable Veyr's voice was smooth and cutting. "House Frostspawn contests your strength. Your wife was stolen, your weapon was paraded in bruises. If I break her in front of your allies, you will concede ground to us. If she breaks me, Frostspawn will acknowledge your house still holds power."
Nitron's gaze flicked to Elma—an order without words. "Begin."
The sigil in the marble floor woke in pale light. The duel was bound.
Sable breathed once and the temperature plummeted. Frost crept across the sigil, blooming into a ring around Elma's ankles. Her calves ached; the stone itself felt hostile.
He liked control. He liked patterns.
"You wear heat like perfume," he said calmly, stepping closer. "Pretty. Wasteful."
Elma flexed her toes inside the frost, letting it bite. "Then come smell me up close."
He obliged, moving not like Thorn's brute but with precision, sliding along invisible vectors only he seemed to see. A hand slashed past her ribs, silk splitting, skin freezing. She hissed but didn't flinch.
"You studied me," she said.
"Everyone studies the circus."
He moved again—efficient, relentless, cutting in diagonal sweeps that built on each other. Frost webbed the air, turning each breath into glass. The sigil under his feet glowed, approving.
Elma let him build. Let him tighten the cage. And then, when he leaned for a throat grab, she stepped inside, hooked her heel behind his ankle, and spoiled his perfect geometry.
The sigil stuttered.
Sable's eyes narrowed.
The system stirred.
[Optional Path: Vow & Burn]
Impose a restriction on yourself for temporary amplification.
Elma exhaled, chest tight. "Fine. I won't throw a punch. If I do, burn my hands to ash."
[Vow Accepted]
Heat Index +60%
Penalty: Permanent cauterization of palms if vow is broken.
The braziers flared, their flames leaning closer, eager.
Sable didn't hear the vow, but he felt it. His breath came sharper, misting between them. "Tricks."
"No," Elma said. "Style."
She tangled with him like a lover instead of a fighter. Her hip brushed his thigh to ruin his footing, her shoulder bumped his sternum to stagger his breath, her heel slid along his calf to interrupt balance.
Every time he exhaled frost, she gave heat somewhere else: a candle she brushed with her arm to flare, the braziers hissing higher when she stepped too close, even her own breath in his ear.
"Yield," he said softly, fingers brushing her jaw.
She laughed into his hand and bit his thumb. Gasps rippled across the hall.
Sable's eyes sharpened. He slammed her down, frost storming into her lungs. Her chest seized. Stars danced in her vision.
"Yield," he whispered again.
Elma smiled bloody. "Make me."
She used no fists. Only leverage. Her knee hooked his waist, dragging him off angle. Her thigh slid across his, shifting balance. They rolled; she trapped his wrist beneath her forearm, weight pressing into his chest.
"Say it," she hissed at his ear. "Say you yield before I make you whimper in front of your house."
The sigil glowed erratic, frost clashing against the heat that bled off her skin.
Sable snarled, trying to wrench free. His breath froze the air between them, but she kept her weight heavy, her smile brighter.
The crowd leaned forward, drunk on spectacle. Nitron's gaze was sharp steel. Calista's hand clenched the armrest of her chair until the diamond on her finger cracked the wood beneath.
Sable bucked once, twice. Finally his pride bent.
"I… yield."
The hall exhaled all at once.
Gasps, murmurs, laughter in corners. Bets won and lost.
[Quest Complete: Arbitration Duel]
Reward: House Frostspawn concession.
Leash Pressure: −4%
Vow maintained. No penalty.
Elma rose slowly, bloodied but upright. She bowed toward Nitron, her smile sharp enough to slice.
Nitron inclined his head the faintest degree—acknowledgment, not praise.
Across the hall, Calista's eyes met Elma's for a single heartbeat. They burned hotter than all the braziers combined.
The leash hummed at the edge of her skull, uneasy.
Something in the house had shifted, and no one watching could pretend they hadn't felt it.