As soon as she was released, Yasmin pulled her sword free--slowly, carefully, trying not to cause further injury to him. She only killed when she had to, and she got no joy out of injuring her peers. It was a necessary evil, because it was either her or them, and she had no other choice but to fight or die.
Blade free, blood running down the steel, she motioned at his wound. "Go get that treated," she said over the roar of the crowd before, turning to smile up at the thousands in the stands, she saluted them with her sword and turned to head for one of the portcullises, her body aching, her arms burning with pain as blood ran freely from the wounds in rivulets.
But she kept her face as stoic as she could even though, inside, she wanted to scream. But that was her life here. Screaming on the inside so she could smile on the outside.