10 Aggravating Allies #4
Prince Aureli noticed. He focused on Orsey behind me, then looked up over the crowd.
I didn’t know precisely what he was doing, but he seemed to make eye contact with someone and gestured them over with a slight grimace and tiny jerk of the head.
Had he summoned Boleslaw? I wondered where the consummate diplomat was. I could use her help here.
“Were either of you involved in the Maritay sector invasion?” I asked the two demons. Perhaps a reference to the Federation territory still under Imperial occupation would cool Orsey’s jets.
“No,” Gerasimov said, his voice growling in his throat. “We were fighting more potent foes.”
Prince Aureli shot a warning glance at me, but also smiled at the oblique compliment from his enemies. I couldn’t make out his intentions. Was he pleased or upset with my behavior?
Lady d’Lyre’s familiar voice spoke behind me. “Dear Andre, come with me. You don’t need to stand alone here.”
“I was—Commonwealthers have no manners. Comes from following a queen, I guess. The fish rots from the head, you know.”
Zukov and Gerasimov both heard the insult, both knew what it meant, and both focused on me to see my reaction.
I cursed inwardly, caught. I should stay silent, I knew.
I never was good at returning insults, and letting Orsey’s comment drop would result in it being forgotten in a few days.
He was walking away. I should have let him leave, but he had insulted my Queen in front of my enemies, and they would expect me to defend my monarch’s honor the way they would theirs.
I turned to Orsey. “If you intend to continue insulting my Queen, then I suggest we step outside and let our zeroblades finish the conversation.”
Orsey stopped, his smug smile dropped, accentuated by his drooping mustache points. “Are you challenging me to a duel?”
“I volunteer to be his second,” Count Gerasimov said, too eagerly. To prove his willingness, he drew his short sword and slid it across the fleshy heel of his hand, then squeezed it into a fist. His dark red blood dripped to the floor.
Orsey tried to step back, but d’Lyre held tight to his arm, preventing his retreat.
He looked about, the whites of his eyes visible all around his irises.
Several other demons had turned to view this new entertainment with eager, predatory smiles.
With only the slightest quiver, Orsey said, “I fear I left my sword on another planet.”
“Any warrior here would be happy to lend you the use of their blade,” Gerasimov said, then snapped his fingers. In a moment, two hordlings trundled forwards with a collection of human-sized zeroblades. “I took these as trophies from your honored dead. You may borrow any which suits your style.”
Orsey’s jaw locked shut as he eyed the presented blades. I watched with guilty pleasure as he considered the collection of secondhand weapons, clearly considering the fate of their former owners and wondering how to gracefully refuse to join them.
D’Lyre squeezed his arm. “Andre, apologize. You don’t want to die for no good reason.”
Orsey’s eyes met mine and narrowed. “I can take him in a fair fight.”
D’Lyre laughed up and down a musical scale. “If he wouldn’t fight like a gentleman on the tournament field, what makes you think he’d do so when his life is on the line?”
Before Orsey could reply, a loud, metallic clang rang out from the Emperor’s dais. The Emperor stood as one of her guards banged a metal pole against a strike plate, and she leveled a pointed finger my way.
“There will be no dueling at my jubilee. Not even if sufficient insult is offered. I will not have my celebration marred by every overexcited warrior settling decade-old disputes with blood. Find your own time and place to fight. While on this planet, I forbid combat of honor.”
There was an audible groan of disappointment from the assembled demons. “My word is final,” the Emperor exclaimed, then sat, crossing her legs in a fit of pique.
Orsey looked smugly down at me. “I guess that’s that. No dueling.”
I bared my teeth, causing Orsey to shiver. “Lucky for you.”
D’Lyre tugged on Orsey’s arm, pulling him away, but as he allowed her to pull him towards the dance floor, d’Lyre looked back over her shoulder at me, flipping her cascading blue-black hair to look me up and down through heavily lidded eyes.
I got the distinct impression that, despite my threatening her countryman, she approved of my actions.
Perhaps she wished to reconnoiter my capabilities in the diplomatic corps’ nightly intelligence activities.
I knew she was a prime target for the Commonwealth, but was I ready to take her on and learn anything valuable without giving too much away?
The way her lips opened slightly, her tongue brushing barely visible between them, I feared her diplomatic skills vastly exceeded mine.
Count Gerasimov clapped a huge hand on my back, nearly knocking me over. “My condolences.”
“For what?” I asked.
“You should have had the chance to slay that quivering coward. Our Emperor is too soft-hearted at times.” Gerasimov clapped me again. “Take heart. Perhaps you’ll have the chance to shed some blood before this soiree is done.”
I certainly hope not, I thought, but nodded politely and said, “If I must.”