Chapter 7 #4
“What is going on?” his mother asked. “Her move was legal. What are they doing?”
Monsieur Perreault stretched a large scroll across the judge’s table. Philippe guessed it was the official rules, but he couldn’t imagine what they’d be looking for.
After several long moments, in which the crowd had begun chanting their impatience, Monsieur Perreault came back out beside Alex. “Alexandra de Foix will be challenging…” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Alexandra de Foix will be challenging his Lordship, Monsieur Philippe du Chevalerie.”
The spectators went into an uproar. Philippe sat stunned in his seat. What the hell was happening? This couldn’t be right.
Monsieur Perreault continued, “We have checked the official documentation. Though there is no precedent for a junior challenging a master, there is, apparently,” he looked back to Alex, “no rule against it. Lord Philippe,” he cleared his throat again, “to the arena floor please. Or,” he said, “You will forfeit the championship.”
The Duchess turned to Philippe, her dark-blue eyes flashing red with fury. “What did you do?” she asked through clenched teeth.
Philippe couldn’t speak, let alone answer.
He stood up, dazed. He didn’t want to fight Alex, yet if he refused, he would be shamed for declining the battle.
He moved through the stands, with the buzzing of confused whispers trailing him.
He hopped the fence that ringed the dirt and walked across the ring, though he felt unaware of what his limbs were doing.
Monsieur Perreault looked stricken as Philippe approached them. Philippe stood before Alex, her eyes black with hate.
“Don’t do this,” Philippe pleaded with her. “Don’t be stupid.”
“I wish to fight you one more time.”
“You will lose. You know that.”
“I will hurt you first.”
Monsieur Perreault stood to the side. Reluctantly, Philippe took his stance. She looked different; it was more than the loathing shining back at him. He was an enemy to her, he realized. And this was going to be a real fight.
They raised their weapons. The gamekeeper called the start.
Philippe braced himself for the move she had used on éric, but her sword came from the top this time, knocking him off balance and scoring the first touch of the battle. He spun around and caught her weapon mid-air before she could strike him again.
“I cannot go easy on you,” he shouted between clangs of their swords.
“Don’t.” She spit the word through her teeth, attacking him with an upward thrust. He avoided it but missed his chance to counter as she had already repositioned herself for her next move.
She fought like a fiend, coming at him again and again. They made short work of the ground, tracing trails through the dirt. Philippe fought back, but she drained his strength.
She snapped around and caught him across the arm, causing him to wince.
He realized that he would need to finish this to avoid as much humiliation as possible.
With two aggressive steps towards her, he took command of the fight and put her on the defensive.
He drove her back until she was at the edge of the ring.
She stepped onto a bench against the wall, putting them eye to eye.
“You can’t win, Alex,” he shouted.
“Like hell,” she shouted back, just making a blow to his chest.
He whipped her arm with his blade, but she held fast to her sword. He would have to wrestle it out of her hand. He moved in closer, stifling her range with his body. With his left hand, he grabbed her wrist and held her sword to the rail behind her, his own sword ready to deliver the winning move.
“You are outmatched,” he said. “Drop your sword before I must hurt you.”
She bore into his eyes, refusing his command.
With one last move, he twisted her arm back over the fence. She let out a yelp of pain, and he heard the sound he’d been waiting for: the clang of her sword as it hit the ground.
It was over. He avoided her eyes, the eyes of Monsieur Perreault, and everyone in the audience.
It was a terrible win. He regretted every moment and knew he would feel the sting of this for a long time.
He loosened his hold on her, wanting to get off the floor and away from it all as soon as possible.
But Alex wasn’t done. In the split second of release, she reared back and slammed her head against him with the force of a stallion.
Stars exploded like a cannon blast in his vision, and his mouth overflowed with blood.
He heard the crowd gasp. He stumbled back and caught fat drops of crimson in his hands.
She stood before him, her face smeared with his blood.
He brought a hand up to his mouth and felt the meaty split along the bottom of his lip.
Rivulets of blood weaved through his fingers before coloring the ground.
His head swam and he felt himself drop to one knee.
It was quiet as she picked up her sword, nodded her defeat towards Monsieur Perreault and walked off the floor.
He saw only her empty footprints in the dirt before his eyes went completely dark.