Chapter 15 #3
“The lord gave me the orders. I will drag her back by her hair if I have to. You won’t outdo me this time.”
“Well then, I suppose you’ll have to find a way through me,” Lysander says.
“You’re still a prisoner. And you have no sword.” Keagan sways on his feet, the loss of blood making it difficult for him to give Lysander his full focus.
“I understand that you’re afraid.”
Keagan growls in response and swings his sword clumsily. Lysander dodges it with ease.
“I believe Cornelius would be ashamed to see you fight like this to avenge him.” Lysander laughs. “Allez, femme, I don’t even hold a sword!”
All the taunting confuses me. I’m not sure the point of fighting the man now, especially without a weapon of his own, but his teasing is working. Keagan shakes with rage. He lunges at Lysander again, fangs bared.
Even with the blood loss, Keagan is quick, much quicker than Cornelius was, and more of a skilled fighter.
Lysander leaps out of the way of his swinging sword, hitting into the wall.
Keagan swipes it through the air again, forcing him to duck.
He strikes the stone just above his head, sending a sharp sound echoing through the hallway.
As I watch Lysander narrowly dodge each of Keagan’s blows, I realize he’s losing. Actually losing.
But that’s not possible.
Sweat gleams on Lysander’s brow, and when he glances my way, I realize what his intent is. He’s expecting me to go after Haven while he faces Keagan alone. Another self-sacrifice. But without a weapon, Lysander will be killed.
No. I won’t let him do that.
This time, when Keagan attacks, I throw out my sword and his blade meets with mine. Both he and Lysander look up in shock.
“This ends now,” I say, pushing Keagan’s sword away from Lysander.
“Avrum—” Lysander warns.
Keagan has already turned on me, his eyes black with hate. “Then I will kill both of you!”
There’s no hesitation. Keagan steps forward, striking low, and forces me back. He jabs to my right, leaving me off balance when he comes at me again.
Sharpness slices into my side, and when I look down, I see blood staining my shirt, his blade embedded in between my ribs. As he retracts, I stumble back, not expecting the pain to be so shocking and to leave me breathless. This is nothing like dueling with Lysander in the attic.
“Your footing!” Lysander shouts instructions at me as if we’re training together again. “Remember your stance!”
But as soon as I glance down at my feet, Keagan comes after me again. I block out of reaction, crossing our swords, but my arms shake as Keagan pushes all his weight into his attack.
I try to lock my elbows, but the blades and Keagan’s menacing face are getting closer and closer.
My knees are about to buckle, and I beg them to stay strong.
“Avrum!” Lysander’s commands are the only thing keeping me grounded. “Do not give in. Don’t you dare embarrass me. Haven needs you.”
He’s right. If I go down, Haven’s chances of escaping will be over.
I stare straight into Keagan’s eyes, suck in a deep breath, and put all my strength into our still latched swords. Keagan’s brows pinch together as I force him to take a step back.
I notice his skin glows whiter than before, and his lids droop. His hold on our stalemate is loosening, too. The blood loss is taking its toll on him, it seems.
“Find a weakness that you can play on.” Lysander’s instructions replay in my head. “The littlest of flaws can destroy the greatest of men.”
“Now!” shouts the present Lysander.
I shove Keagan as hard as I can. He backpedals but trips over his own feet, falling onto his backside with a hard thud.
Lysander’s voice booms. “The head or the heart!”
My own heart racing, I grip the handle with both hands and plunge the sword into the center of Keagan’s chest. He lets out a terrifying strangled cry that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
“Twist the sword!”
I do, scrambling what is left of his heart. Keagan’s limbs go limp and his wide eyes flash back to their normal color and then become unblinking. Dead.
A sudden touch on my shoulder has me jumping, but it’s only Lysander at my side. My insides are trembling from what I’ve just done, but unfazed, he pulls the sword out of Keagan’s chest and hands it to him. Then he grabs Keagan’s for himself.
“Alright, let’s go.” He steps over Keagan as if he’s nothing, but my legs are having a difficult time moving again. “Avrum…”
The ballroom doors open. Favian stands there with a grim look on his face, and behind him, I can see what’s left of the party.
Tables are overturned, windows broken, a complete mess.
Silent Alessandro is among the servants picking up the remnants of dinner, while Gunnar speaks to one of the distraught musicians in the band.
When Favian sees Keagan on the floor and the bloody weapon in my hand, his brows raise. “Lord Henri has left. He has gone after the girl himself.”
The danger of the situation increases tenfold. “We have to go,” I say to Lysander. “Now.”
Lysander nods.
“He is unstable,” Favian warns as we turn to leave, “and he is heading toward the grounds.”
“Thank you.” Then without another thought, we race down the hallway toward the back doors.
“May you reach her before he does,” Favian calls after us, “or may God help her.”