13
“Loren wait,” said Geraint. “Where are you going?”
But Geraint’s voice was drowned out. So was the pounding of flesh as one brother took the first swing. I ignored it all as I made my way down the steps towards the ground floor.
My palms sweated as I got nearer to him. My heart was a drum in my ears. The only thing louder was the crack of bones from the arena. I had a fleeting thought, wondering if it was the indebted brother that went down at the terminal brother’s hands. Death was a strong motivator, stronger than love.
I’m not sure I believe that; that the fear of death was stronger than the bonds of love. Maybe a few weeks ago, but not now. Especially not when it came to familial love. My shared blood and heritage was a strong pull to do the right thing. Stronger than the man ac
