Chapter Thirty-Two #2
I try to shut my eyes and think through it. Claude isn’t an idiot. He’s been training for this for months now. Surely he wouldn’t have challenged Ambrose if he didn’t think it was possible to beat him.
“Maybe that’s why Claude insisted they fight in front of the court,” I say, opening my eyes. “Perhaps Ambrose would be too proud to use a command to win in front of them.”
“Might be so,” Benjamin says. “Speaking of which…” He nods toward the entrance. “We should head in. They’ll be starting soon.”
“Right.” I stare up at the double doors ahead. Despite my agreement, I can’t bring myself to move. When I walk through those doors, this will be real. There will be nothing left to do but sit and watch whatever happens.
When Benjamin offers his arm, I take it, and let him lead me inside.
He squeezes my trembling hand where it grips him.
I’m grateful for his presence at my side, and for Sebastian, stony-faced as he is, here to support Claude along with us.
They keep me from panicking as we step inside the Vulpe mansion, but only barely.
Still, I feel lightheaded as I look around the room at what seems, to my eyes, to be a pit of vipers.
This wide-open space, with white marble walls and tile, could only be a ballroom.
But the furniture has been pushed to the sides to open a space in the middle.
Under other circumstances it might be for dancing, but now it looks, to me, like nothing so much as an arena.
Archaic, barbaric. Perhaps it was what the room was first intended for, and all the glamor and manners have just been constructed around it to conceal the ugly truth.
Like with everything in the vampire world, glitz and politeness cover sinister truths.
The Vulpe vampires look more casual than I expected, almost like normal people.
But this is no glamorous party, and they must have rushed here last-minute to witness the duel.
Because of that, perhaps, they’re less intimidating than I imagined.
I thought they’d all be like Ambrose, all vipers in suits and smiles, but instead I see an eclectic bunch.
Some are dressed finely, but others bear paint stains, clay-crusted elbows, fingers smeared with graphite.
I see Claude in them more than I see Ambrose.
And the crowd is marked with lowered voices and shifting eyes, a sense of unease.
“They don’t approve of this,” I note in a low voice to Benjamin as I glance around.
“It is a shameful matter,” Benjamin agrees. “A valentine hurt. A sire challenged by his fledgling. Even if Ambrose has power here, it isn’t something the court can overlook.”
“It’s brought his ugliness into the spotlight,” I say. That must be what Claude wanted. He’ll force them to stare it in the face.
“And it makes Claude look brave,” Benjamin says.
“He is brave,” Sebastian says. He rarely speaks, but when he does, his voice is sure and strong. “And he is right, to stand up for his valentine. No one can deny it.”
But none of that means he will win, and neither of my companions can tell me otherwise.
Still, at least I’m not alone as I take my place in the crowd surrounding the open floor with Benjamin on one side and Sebastian on the other.
There’s no sign of Claude or Ambrose yet; they must be elsewhere, discussing the terms. Or perhaps finding some way out of this that doesn’t involve violence.
Maybe Claude has found a way to negotiate…
A door at the back of the room opens, and the crowd turns that way, silent and watchful. Vampires part as three people make their way to the empty center of the room: Claude, Ambrose, and a stern-looking vampire with a snake pinned to his breast pocket, clearly some kind of Vulpe representative.
My heart sinks at the look on Claude’s face, serious and resigned. I’ve never seen him look this somber before, even in his dour moods. He’s stripped down to a plain undershirt and trousers, his fingers bare of their usual rings and his hair combed back. He looks so unlike himself.
Ambrose, on the other hand, is smiling as he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to the man from Vulpe. They exchange a quiet word, and Ambrose laughs like all of this is a joke to him. I dig my nails into my palms to release some of my building anger, and focus on Claude.
He meets my gaze across the room. I can’t read his expression this far away, but he touches one hand to his heart briefly and nods at me before returning his attention to the other vampires.
I let out a shaky breath. Benjamin’s hand slides into mine, and I squeeze him, grateful not to be alone.
The Vulpe man raises a hand, and the murmurs of the crowd die away, leaving a room full to the brim with silence.
“I, Henry de Vulpe, stand today as witness to a blood duel within the court,” the man says, his voice deep and clear.
He holds Ambrose’s jacket draped over one arm, which seems an outrageous show of favoritism given the circumstances.
But Claude knew the court would be against him.
He challenged his sire here, in front of them, where none could dispute the outcome.
I have to believe he knows what he’s doing.
“Lord Claude de Vulpe has challenged Lord Ambrose de Vulpe, his sire, on the grounds of an attack against his valentine. Lord Ambrose, do you dispute the claim?”
“I do not,” Ambrose drawls, shameless. “I punished her insolence, and now I shall punish my fledgling’s.
” There’s a flash of murmurs within the watching vampires, and Ambrose bears his fangs.
“Do not pretend any of you would do otherwise. Claude has been a bane upon me since the day I turned him. An embarrassment and a waste. This tantrum will be his last.”
The murmurs intensify but die away quickly as Henry raises his hand again for silence.
“And Lord Claude, you wish to claim your right to a trial by combat?” he asks.
Claude never looks away from Ambrose. “I do.”
The witness nods. “So it shall be done. A duel to first yield, or death, whichever comes first.” He looks at Ambrose, and then at Claude, gaining a nod of approval from each. Then he steps back to the edge of the crowd, leaving the two vampires in the center of the open ring.
Benjamin grips my hand. Sebastian leans forward, ever so slightly, his gaze intent.
“Begin,” says the Vulpe witness.