Chapter 17
“H ow are you doing, Amelia?” I asked, dutch braiding my hair with a lavender ribbon in front of the fencing locker room’s mirror.
“Dreadful,” she said, slipping on her black fencing glove. “Almost like that time the teacher forced us to dissect a mouse in class, but the only animal corpses I would like to touch are the ones of humans, especially men.”
Uproarious laughter, cheers, and curses from the boys’ locker room seeped through the wall.
Amelia grimaced at the sound, and Tara barged into the locker room, one hand firmly planted on her hip. “Stop hiding in here, losers. Class is about to start.”
“Hello to you too, Tara,” I beamed, determined to get on Tara’s good side one day.
“Sucker,” she groaned, storming back to where she came from.
“Being kind to her is a waste of time,” Amelia said as we exited the locker room to warm up in the fencing gym.
After a few laps, we gathered around the teacher. I dreaded one person in particular. My tormentor. My mistake. My insanity.
The same one who emerged at this exact instant from his locker room with the other guys. But while they were all smiling and joking around, he couldn’t have looked more bored in his white fencing attire. His sharp eyes locked onto mine as if he had a radar for my presence. He was so magnetic, merciless, and undeniably… him.
A black swan with a black soul.
He was beautiful the same way pain was. Intense and captivating, but it also elicited a tug at the heartstrings every time I saw him.
I swallowed hard. I’d ignored him the best I could for the past few days and resolved never to kiss Levi Delombre again. Our first kiss ended in tragedy, the second sealed my redemption, but the third never existed. I wanted to help him, not become a mindless zombie, consumed by thoughts of human flesh, with Levi being my particular craving. I didn’t trust my heart around him, not knowing his full intentions, but one thing was for sure—I should not let my guard down.
“Levi has nice bone structure,” Amelia commented out of the blue as though it were the most normal observation.
“That’s the only nice thing about him,” I retorted, struggling to keep my composure in his presence. Thankfully, at least six or seven people stood between us.
“Female frogs fake deaths to avoid unwanted attention from the males. Too bad we can’t do that too,” Amelia said.
Even death would not be enough for him to stop.
“I’m swamped.” Sylas arrived by our side, connecting his foil and body wires to the spools on the fencing strip. “Our fathers say hi to you, by the way. They’re delighted we get along so well. I’ve never seen either of them smile like that before.”
“My dad really likes you.” I grinned and refrained from saying he’d never liked any boys before him. “But if he were to know everything that happens here, I probably would be shipped back home in a second, so I’m thankful you didn’t tell him everything.”
Everything, meaning Levi Delombre’s existence.
Speaking of the devil, Levi loomed nearby, his gaze scanning me and Sylas, probably planning something vicious.
“Trust me, I don’t tell my father everything either. I’m on your side, Dalia.” Sylas’s hand lightly grazed my arm, his smile reassuring. Then he turned to my new friend. “Amelia, nice to see you too.”
“You know my name?” the Guardian girl asked with a puzzled frown.
“Of course.”
“Okay, class,” the teacher announced. “I trust you’ve warmed up correctly. Plug yourself on the track, and pick a partner to practice our parry-riposte drills. We’re practicing épée today, so hurry up.”
Levi made a beeline toward me, his purposeful stride cutting through the towering stone walls of the gym’s alcoves.
“Do you want to spar together?” I whispered hurriedly to Amelia.
She surveyed the room briefly, her eyes flicking between Sylas, Levi, Tara, and finally settling on me. “I see. Why not?”
Quickly, we donned our fencing masks and grabbed our épées, making our way to the last piste by the windows. Attaching our weapons to the large plug trailing us, we tested their conductivity with a light tap before retreating to our en garde lines. We practiced some retreats, worked on our balance, and learned to quicken our ripostes.
I stole a glance at Tara, locked in combat with Levi. With a casual flick of his wrist, he countered each attack as though they were merely a minor inconvenience. Rather than launching attacks of his own, he focused solely on deflecting hers. His passive stance provoked Tara, who responded by intensifying her strikes and hastening her movements along the piste.
“Let’s switch for a bout,” the teacher announced.
“Partner up with me?” I recognized Sylas’s warm, regal voice even with his fencing mask on. “I’ll go easy on you.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “Well, then, prepare yourself to lose.”
But before we could even begin, Levi’s épée halted our tracks, his blade cutting through the space between Sylas and me. The glint of steel reflected the determined set of his sharp jaw and the unwavering darkness in his eyes.
“Sylas.” His voice was laced with a sadistic edge as he brought his épée to rest, the tip poised with controlled grace. “How about you don’t hide how pitiful you are by pretending to go easy on a weaker opponent, and you take me. First at five.”
“You don’t have to entertain him,” I urged, though my voice seemed to fall on deaf ears.
“Fine, Levi.” Sylas’s voice hardened.
Levi’s chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. He donned his fencing mask, ready to face off against Sylas on the piste. Amelia and I remained staring, not even bothering to focus on our own bout since neither of us switched opponents.
“En garde!” The referee’s command shattered the silence.
“Two opposites fighting for one woman’s attention,” remarked Amelia, a hint of amusement in her voice. “If this doesn’t end up in a bloody mess and broken hearts.”
I began to understand Amelia’s penchant for the macabre and the gloomy.
“Having Levi’s attention is not a good thing.” I folded my arms on my chest, silently praying that none of them would murder the other. “And as for Sylas, they just don’t like each other. I don’t even know why, but it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
With a mocking gesture, Levi lowered his guard, inviting Sylas to attack. Sylas’s steps were hesitant as he slowly gained some of Levi’s territory, his épée poised for defense.
It’s a trap.
“No, wait,” I whispered, knowing Levi was luring him in to dismantle him.
But Sylas launched an attack that Levi counterattacked, scoring a point on Sylas’s shoulder and sending him stumbling backward. Most students had their eyes locked on their fight. It always was the case when it was related to Levi—except for Tara, who was busy brutalizing her own fencing partner.
“He’s good,” Amelia commented. “It’s like he can read each of Sylas’s moves before he even makes it.”
I winced. He was humiliating Sylas on purpose. It was all calculated. Levi’s tactics were ruthless, his every action designed to dismantle Sylas both physically and mentally. He exploited every opportunity to assert his dominance by making him run on the piste, struggling to regain his footing, or scoring the most epic points to amaze the crowd.
When Levi was done with Sylas, the crowd lost its interest.
“Switch partners!” the teacher yelled.
Sylas strode back toward me, his shoulders squared, refusing to salute Levi after their bout. I remained rooted to the spot, clenching my épée. I shared Sylas’s anger, feeling the need to retaliate against Levi. And retaliate I would.
“We’ll partner up in the next round,” Sylas muttered with an edge of irritation, brushing past me to address Amelia. “Let’s spar?”
That soulless bastard pointed his épée in my direction. “You’re all mine now, little thief.”
I put on my fencing mask, connected my weapon, and faced him. “You had to put on a show.”
“En garde!” our teacher called out.
“It was all because of you,” Levi responded, feigning innocence as he saluted me with his sword. “You forced me into it.”
I saluted him back, wanting to slice him open with my blade. “You humiliated my friend.”
“You mean the friend your father picked out for you?”
“I make my own friends,” I quipped back. “He did nothing to deserve this.”
I imagined that sly scowl of his creeping across his face. “It bothers me when you ignore me. Unfortunately for you, I can be quite possessive of what’s mine.”
I assumed my stance and launched into a flèche . “I’m not yours, Levi.”
I would not sacrifice my freedom for him.
He riposted and scored a touch on my wrist. The red light flickered on. We resumed our positions and attacked again, the metallic clink of our épées clashing through the air. We were trapped in proximity, neither of us wanting to back down.
“You didn’t say that a couple of nights ago when I had my tongue in your mouth.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I stepped back, retreating my attack. “Someone could hear you. And it won’t happen again.”
“You should riposte by lunging low instead of parrying out of fear. You’re petite and flexible. If you aim for my feet or legs, you could have a chance of riposte,” he remarked, his attacks relentless. “And for instance, you were the one kissing me first, remember? You sealed your fate.”
“Well, maybe that kiss on the roof was the worst experience of my life,” I said, sidestepping his assault. Forgive me, God, for lying.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“It wasn’t meant to be a compliment but a threat because I can do much worse.” His épée scored on my arm, probably adding another bruise to my collection. “You’re not listening. So stubborn.”
In response, I dodged his next attack and executed a low lunge, precisely as he had suggested. But I aimed my blade at his throat, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips when the light turned green. Take that, Levi.
“I’m not interested,” I declared, returning to my en garde position on my side of the piste to attack again.
“Nice point,” he said, trapping our foils together so mine would dwell far away from his body, the tip of his weapon threatening to score another touch. “I’m a patient man, something that my chess-playing days with my stepfather taught me. But don’t push my limits; I will inevitably take everything from you.”
It was the first time he’d talked to me about Patrice. “You’re making it really hard for me not to hate you.”
“Because you know deep down that I’m right.” He broke our link and scored a point by skillfully maneuvering his sword from behind his head. “In fencing, as in life, trapping your opponent to your will is a must if you wish to win.”
“Let’s switch fencers,” the teacher announced.
“I believe we’re done here.” I scored the final point by lowering myself and aiming near his groin to make a statement.
Levi then lowered his fencing mask, gazing down at me while running his hand through his hair to sweep it back. “On the contrary, I’m far from done with you.”
“When will I be able to work on decrypting Lucie’s music scores?”
“I’ll find you.”
“When?” I urged. People waited for us to clear the piste.
“When I feel like it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He came in close. “When my murderous impulses calm down because I’m afraid I won’t be able to sit in front of you for hours without either wanting to slice a sharp object through your neck or through mine. And I won’t be able to stop myself from having disruptive fantasies about you. Unless you’d let me use you to satisfy my cravings?”
“Nope, all good here. Take all the time you need.” I walked as far as I could from him, wanting to ignore the burning sensation he ignited in my belly.
He was so rude. I didn’t know what I disliked the most about him right now. Was it his calculating nature or his blunt demeanor? Perhaps it was the admiration I felt toward his strength or the fact he was able to do as he pleased?
But one thing was for sure—I hated how he made me feel.