Another cut. Damn it all to hell.
Brennan sensed weakness, like a shark senses blood in the water. He slashed in a wide, horizontal cut, left to right. Richard leaned back with sudden speed. The sword sliced empty air. Richard clamped his left hand on Brennan’s sword wrist. Brennan lunged with the dagger, striving to drive it into Richard’s throat. Richard ducked under the blow and rammed the pommel of his sword under Brennan’s chin. Blood spilled from Brennan’s mouth. He jerked back, and Richard sliced across the inside of his left biceps. Brennan dropped the dagger and stumbled back. “Who are you?” he gasped.
“I’m an Edger, a nobody. You preyed on my people, so I took it all away from you. I killed your crews, I destroyed your island, I misled you into thinking Maedoc was a traitor. The pieces of your kingdom are crashing down around you because I made it happen.”
Brennan growled, spitting blood. “I’ll kill you, you piece of Edge shit.”
“You’ll never rule,” Richard snarled back. “You’re unfit.”
Brennan lunged into a furious melee. His sword shone, slicing in wide arcs: left, right, left. Richard deflected. Brennan head-butted him. Richard scoured Brennan’s side. They clashed again, bloodied, focused only on each other. The ringing of steel on steel was like a heartbeat.
Brennan made another slash at Richard’s neck. All his blows were above the chest, George realized. Enemy fixation. He had heard about it but had never seen it. In this moment, Brennan hated Richard so much that he was unable to look away from his face. All his cuts were designed to chop Richard’s head off.
Richard spun out of the way and hammered a kick into Brennan’s side. The bigger man took a step back. The point of his sword drooped. Tired! He was tired. The blade was slow to come up.
Brennan exhaled, blood bubbling on his lips, and charged. Richard let him come and slashed at Brennan’s stomach in a lightning cut.
Brennan stumbled, clamping his arm to his stomach, trying to hold his guts inside. Richard paced back and forth, stalking him like a lean, hungry wolf hounding a lame bear. The bigger man tried to straighten. Richard dropped down, almost to his knees, and sliced across Brennan’s legs, left-right, his sword blurring.
Brennan staggered. The fabric of his pants split, showing crisscrossing cuts. Blood swelled. He growled and sank to his knees. Richard hammered a knee to his face. Brennan toppled over. Richard flicked the blood off his sword with a sharp jerk and looked at Charlotte.
She still stood at the table, so pale, she looked bloodless. Slowly, Richard raised his sword in a kind of salute.
The Grand Thane boomed. “Someone, take out this garbage.”
Celire appeared, backed by half a dozen guards. They swarmed Brennan. Three swords pointed at Richard.
“Not him,” the Great Thane said. “He can go.”
Richard bowed his head. The guards parted, and he strode toward them.
“A disgrace.” Erwin said. George turned. The spy was standing at their table. He looked a lot less like Lorameh and very much like Erwin. Some sort of magic had to be at work here. He would have to get to the bottom of it.
“Erwin?” Kaldar peered at him. “You’re Lorameh?”
“Yes, I am. What part of back off was unclear to you? I have sat on Brennan for ten months, building my case so I can bring him in quietly, without scandal and embarrassment to the realm.” Erwin raised his arm, indicating the wrecked dining hall. “This is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”
Richard reached them. “Where is Charlotte?”
George glanced at Charlotte’s table. It was empty. Charlotte was gone. So was Sophie—and so was Spider.
“She was just here,” he said.
“Jack!” Richard barked.
“I’m on it.” Jack dashed through the dining hall, crouched at the table, inhaled and pointed to the doorway. “Right hallway.”
Richard sprinted across the hall.
*
“MY lord!” Sophie called out.
Spider stopped and turned. He was midway through the gardens, and as he spun on his foot to face her, the gorgeous flowerbeds framed him. He seemed an elegant painting, drenched in sunlight. She let the dog off the leash.
“What are you doing here, Sophie?”
“I was scared when the screaming started,” she said. “I ran out and saw you walking away.”
He raised his hand, inviting her to walk next to him. She caught up, and, together, they strolled down the winding path. The dog ran sideways to investigate some flowers.
“I see you brought your dog. Have you finally settled on a name?”
“Yes. I think we should call him Callis.”
“After the Grand Thane?” Spider smiled.
“They have the same type of rough dignity. Where are you going?”
The stiff blade of her short sword, the only weapon that could be hidden in her dress, was warm against her thigh. Roses bloomed on both sides of the path, pink, dark red, and cream, their velvet petals sending a refined perfume into the air.
“I came here to disrupt this wedding,” he said.
“But why? Don’t you like the Marchesa?”
“I do. I’m very fond of her, in fact. She is a beautiful example of the best noble blood has to offer. But I’m a patriot, my dear. And sometimes the needs of my country conflict with my personal likes.”
“I understand,” she said. “Duty.” He wasn’t a monster by choice, oh no. He was a patriot. The only difference between a common psychotic sadistic murderer and Spider was he had Louisiana’s mandate to be one.
“Yes.” Spider nodded. “The Marchesa has great land holdings. It wasn’t in our best interests to let those lands fall under Adrianglian influence. I was planning something quite spectacular. But a true professional knows when he is beaten. They have created such a glorious chaos on their own, I can’t possibly contribute anything else to it. It’s time for me to walk off the stage.”