“That’s good intel,” Tereille said. “Now we know.”
“It's almost like there are disadvantages to dark-age warfare,” I said. “Shocking.”
Juliette tugged on her braid. “I predict we're all fucked.”
“I'll bet you we last till moonrise,” Numair said.
“Stakes?”
“Archers, fire at will,” Édouard growled.
Wyvenne drew his sword, and Ramonne held a slender-bladed staff, saying nothing, her attention on the unmoving Montague.
“Remember, I'll deal with him myself,” I said. She nodded curtly without looking at me.
I wasn't the strongest warrior among us, but I had my little edge. My Skills combined, even if minor, gave me the best chance of getting close enough to him to strike a deathblow.
He would literally never see me coming.
Across the glossy white boulevard, our gazes met. I lifted my sabre, pointing the tip at him.
Renaud smiled and walked forward. His smile. . .
Around us, the Fae charged.
ChapterNine
Iflinched at the first savage moment of two opposing sides locked in ferocious battle.
A cacophony of swords assaulted my ears, cries of pain and triumph, snarls of rage and frustration as warriors tore into each other, releasing mayhem in a way only Fae could. We relished the release of an open melee.
I fought my way through the press of bodies, dodging and weaving, my sabre and long dagger slicing through those in my path as I edged relentlessly toward the Prince. Eddies of battle separated us, the white stone slippery with red. He seemed in no hurry to engage me. To him, the outcome of a duel between us must seem inevitable.
“Lady Aerinne,” a hated voice said, amusement in sibilant tones.
High Lord Baroun stepped in front of me, malice in his rich topaz eyes. The skin that paled to nothing on Renaud Gauthier bloomed with a desert glow on Baroun, his thick black hair waving around his shoulders.
“Do you want to die today?” I asked. “I’m in a time crunch.”
I wouldn't have put it past them toplanto wear me out in a duel with Baroun before I faced the Prince.
“Oblige me.” He lunged, feinting with a thrust of his sword, and I parried, setting my jaw grimly. “A little slow, halfling mud.” He began stalking me in a circle.
I kept him in my line of sight. “Gods, I hope you aren't a talker. I hate talkers. And your insults need work.”
“I can work on my insults. I can practice over your grave.”
“You sure about that?” I smirked at him, just to get him to do something besides spout poetry at me. “Tell me more about my eyes, Baroun.”
Baroun darted forward in a flash of movement, catching me off balance before we engaged in a full-out flurry of blows. His expression settled into a faint frown, and I grinned, recognizing his irritation that I was faster than he’d assumed. Point and case for why I kept my Skills close to my chest.
He spun, and for a second, our shoulders almost touched. Long enough for him to whisper, “Where is Embry, Aerinne? Where is the missing son of the Prince?”
It startled me, and his sword found its mark.
“Fuck!” Not fatal, but it hurt like hell. I kicked his knee out from beneath him, my racing heart no longer due to the battle.
His leg buckled and he went down, spinning away as I whipped my sabre down in a whistling arc, missing him by a breath.
