Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Anatole is ready and leans back while taking a swing at my chest.
Blood freezes in my veins when the tip of his rapier comes way too close to the flower, and I jump back so rapidly the heel of my shoe slips. The audience chuckles when I save myself by landing in an awkward scoot, with my left hand on the floor, but laughter is soon replaced by gasps when Anatole strikes.
Tension ignites every muscle, and I shoot up, slapping aside the blade of his rapier. His blue eyes widen, and he attempts to keep himself from falling farther toward me, but I grab his blade, pull on him, and slam my forehead against his.
The world spins in a rainbow of color as pain travels up my skull and all the way to the back, but when Anatole tries to twist his hands away, and pushes at the base of my fingers, I shove him back before he can break something.
Spilling his blood would also mean my loss, but if I play my cards right, I can give him a good battering without cuts. It’s supposed to be an honorable duel, but he lost all honor when he licked Luke’s ear.
Anatole looks back my way once there’s sufficient distance between us, and my heart leaps with joy when I recognize the tiny groove between his brows as a sign of worry. I might not be as skilled at fencing as I am at shadowcraft, but I have also never measured my abilities against his. He and the real Kyranis, however, dueled many times—for training, fun, or to resolve conflict, and I am positive my twin didn’t win a single time.
I am a real opponent, and Anatole is only now realizing he might have gotten himself into deep shit by provoking this fight. I should have demanded more than him keeping away from Luke, but maybe another opportunity will present itself in the future? I barely keep myself from grinning when my opponent falls back every time I attempt to close in on him. I am taller, stronger, and our clash earlier must have shown him that he needs to keep me at a distance if he is to have any chance of winning this.
Which he does not, because I am going to end him.
My perfect solution would have been to use my strength to overwhelm him, but with the stakes being so high, I’m tiptoeing around Anatole as we exchange jabs and cross swords while keeping our bodies so far apart neither of us can reach the other’s rose. It’s a game of time and focus, and while I imagine that some of my guests have already lost interest, I don’t let that sway me.
This duel might be about Luke’s safety, but I need to forget his existence for as long as I’m within Anatole’s range. At this point, the duel is about waiting one another out and seizing the perfect opportunity, but after avoiding several of Anatole’s traps, my sword hand is damp from the effort of needing to do this for so long.
I am exhausted, my throat is dry and going raw, and I want Luke in my arms—safe and reassured—but Anatole is equally tired. His next mistake makes my brain blare with dozens of bells, and when our swords cross and he comes one step too close, I seize the moment. I step on his foot to keep the bastard in place and dive in so fast my blade smoothly slides off his and shaves off the flower.
Anatole’s eyes go wide, and the audience utters a collective gasp just as I feel a sting on my chest. A hot drop rolls down my skin and is immediately cooled by air where my cousin has split my shirt. I grin, ready to raise my blade in triumph, because not only has this pathetic villain lost the duel but also shown lack of skill by cutting into my flesh.
When Anatole’s face brightens with a menacing grin, my own smile falters.
And as my friends, servants, and courtiers stare my way in horror, I realize there is nothing to celebrate.
My secret is out.
Chapter 40
Kyran
It’s too late. The result of the duel doesn’t matter.
The gasps around me tell me everyone can see the golden sun etched into my skin. And in this moment I know this duel was never about the rose, or even a night with Luke.
Anatole was after this very public opportunity to cut open my shirt in front of others. Maybe he saw a glimpse of gold when I caught up with the assassin. Maybe he was just suspicious of Kyranis’s changed behavior. Maybe he had a spy notice something strange about me.
Whichever it was, it’s doomed me.
Whatever happens now, I need to make sure Luke is safe.
I search for him, and he comes forward with parted lips and wide eyes. It’s as if time has become a swamp and each passing heartbeat takes hours. I take in the shocked faces of courtiers, Tristan’s mortified expression as he steps away from me. I am the tainted son, the mistake kept alive, and he flees as if my very existence could infect him.