Chapter Four
Casteel, garbed in black, cut a striking figure silhouetted against the snow as he stalked forward.
He came to stand beside Kieran, and I saw that he was armed with his two short swords, the handles a deep chrome, and the blades a ruby-hued bloodstone.
The knife I held had never felt more pathetic than it did in that moment.
“I suppose I will need to add lock picking to the ever-growing list of attributes,” Casteel drawled. “But what a very un-Maiden-like talent to have. Then again, I shouldn’t be that surprised. You have many un-Maiden-like talents, don’t you?”
I said nothing as my heart threw itself around my chest.
“Did you really think you’d escape me?” Casteel asked softly.
Anger was sharper than any blade, far more welcomed than the hopelessness. “I almost did.”
“Almost means nothing, Princess. You should know that.”
I did. “I’m not walking back to that keep.”
“Would you prefer that I carry you?” he offered.
“I would prefer never to see your face again.”
“Now, all three of us know that’s a lie.” Beside him, Kieran made a chuffing sound, and I considered chucking the knife at the wolven’s face. “I’ll make you a deal.”
I stayed alert as he stepped over the fallen tree I had as if it were nothing more than a branch. “I’m not interested in any deals. I’m interested in my freedom.”
“But you haven’t heard what I have to offer.” Reaching across his chest, he unstrapped one of the swords. “Fight me. You win, you can have your freedom. ” He tossed the sword so it landed in front of me.
Giving the weapon a quick glance, I laughed, the sound gritty against my skin. “As if he’ll let me cause you any harm.” I jerked my head to Kieran.
Casteel tilted his head as the wolven’s ears perked. “Go back to the keep, Kieran. I want to make sure Poppy feels this is fair.”
“Fair?” I seethed as Kieran hesitated for a moment and then pushed off the fallen tree. Twisting with all the grace of an animal, he loped off. “You’re an Atlantian. How will fighting you be fair?”
“So you’re afraid to lose, then? Or afraid to fight me?”
“Never,” I swore.
He smirked as his eyes flared a heated ocher. “Then fight me. Remember what I said earlier? I want you to battle me. I look forward to it. I enjoy it. None of that was a lie. Engage me.”
Of course, I remembered what he’d said, but there was no way I could beat him. I knew that. He knew that. However, there was no way I would stroll back to my cage either. Not when I’d spent my whole life in one.
Keeping my eyes on him, I slid the knife back into its sheath and unhooked the cloak, letting it fall to the ground. I immediately missed the warmth, but the garment would be too much of a hazard. I removed the satchel, as well, dropping it by the outer garment.
One of Casteel’s eyebrows rose. “Is that all you were planning to escape with? Just some clothes? No other supplies? No food or water?”
“I couldn’t risk being caught shopping from the pantry, now could I?
” Watching him, I bent and picked up the short sword, holding it with two hands.
It was nowhere near as heavy as a broadsword, but even as lightweight as it was, I didn’t have the upper body strength of those who trained for years with them.
Vikter had quickly erased the notion that I’d be able to wield either with one hand for any extended period.
“More like this was a poorly thought-out plan, one borne of panic.”
“It was not borne of panic.” Not exactly. Maybe a little.
“I don’t believe that. You’re smarter than this, Poppy.” He unsheathed the other sword, sliding it free. “Too damn clever to run in the middle of the night with no food, no water, and nothing more than a paltry meat knife for protection.”
I clamped my lips together as the heat of anger warmed my skin.
“Do you know how long it will take to get to Whitebridge on foot? That’s where you were heading, wasn’t it?
Did you think about how cold it gets in the middle of the night?
” he demanded, a hint of anger hardening his tone.
“At any point, did you stop and think about the things that could be in these woods?”
I hadn’t. Not really. And he was right. My plan wasn’t all that well-thought-out. “Are you done talking yet? Or are you too afraid that I might actually beat you, so you won’t shut up?”
“I like hearing myself talk.”
“I’m sure you do.” The snow picked up, spiraling across the ground.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Are you?”
“Always.”
My gaze dipped to his sword. He held it pointed down, not at the ready. There was an insult there, whether he meant it or not. Blistering, smoky rage burned through me, spurring me into action.
Charging him, I jabbed for his midsection, but Casteel was fast, deflecting my attack with a simple swipe of his sword. “You should be aiming for my neck, Princess. Or is the sword too heavy for you?”
Lips thinning at the taunt, I swiped the sword high. He blocked it and struck out, not nearly as fast as he could, considering I could easily dance out of his reach.
“You’ve forgotten a lot of what I said to you.” He prowled forward, cutting off my next blow with a swipe of his blade.
“Maybe I chose to ignore whatever it was you had to say.” Eyes narrowing, I moved to the side.
“Either way, I’ll do you a favor and repeat myself.”
“Not necessary.” I tracked his movements as he circled me. He was far more skilled with the sword, just like Vikter had been when he trained with me. What had he taught me? Never forget one of the most important weapons: the element of surprise.
Casteel stalked me, sword raised. “It seems entirely too necessary for me to repeat myself, considering your foolish behavior.”
I would show him foolish behavior.
“Fight me. Argue with me. I won’t stop you. But I will not allow you to put your life in jeopardy. And this? Tonight? Is the epitome of reckless, life-endangering behavior.”
“You didn’t want me to argue with you earlier,” I reminded him, watching him carefully.
“Because, as I said, you can fight me, but not when it jeopardizes your life.”
“So, my life was in jeopardy with Alastir?”
“I was working on ensuring that’s not the case. Yet here I am instead, making sure you haven’t gotten yourself killed.”
“Only because you need me alive. Right? What good will a dead Maiden be as a bartering tool when it comes to freeing your brother?”
His jaw flexed. “So, you’d rather get yourself killed?”
“I’d rather be free,” I gritted out as the wind blew a strand of hair across my face.
His upper lip curled, revealing one fang. “If you think running back to the Ascended will give you freedom, then I’ve overestimated your critical-thinking skills.”
“If you think that’s what I’m planning, then I’ve overestimated yours,” I returned.
Casteel made his move then, swinging hard. I suspected he planned to knock the sword free from my hand. If he landed the blow, he would’ve, but I darted into the sword’s path. Surprise widened his eyes as he drew the blade back like I knew he would. I was no good to him dead.
I dipped under his arm and spun, kicking out. My boot connected with his stomach, pushing a sharp curse out of him. Straightening, I swung the blade around. Casteel shifted to the side, narrowly avoiding a slice to the chest.
“Nice job,” he remarked, his voice free of mockery.
“I didn’t ask for your thoughts.”
His blade met mine in a clang of bloodstone. For several heated moments, that was the only sound in the woods as we thrust and parried. A fine sheen of sweat dampened my forehead despite the cold, and even though all the running caused my muscles to now weep in protest, I refused to give in.
This wasn’t a fight to the death. In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn’t even a fight for freedom because no matter what deal Casteel made, he wouldn’t let me go.
This was about who disarmed whom first. Who drew first blood.
This was about driving out the pent-up rage and the festering sense of helplessness that had resided inside me for far longer than I was comfortable admitting.
And maybe, just maybe, that was why Casteel was allowing this.
The edge of my sword came close to nicking his left cheek as he swept the blade aside, the deflection sending an aching tremor up my arms. I was breathing fast while he showed no signs of tiring.
He moved around me in a slow circle, his sword once again lowered. “Did I frighten you tonight? With Landell?” he asked. The arrogance marking his features slipped away, revealing someone else entirely. “Is that why you ran? Are you scared of me?”
Startled by the question—by the way he almost looked afraid to hear my answer—I lowered the sword an inch.
It was a mistake.
Casteel struck as fast as a falcon with its prey in sight.
He gripped my arm, spinning me so my back was to him.
I tried to twist, but his arm clamped down on my waist, pulling me back against his chest. He pressed his fingers into my wrist, forcing my hand to spasm open. The sword fell to the snow.
“I had to do it,” he said, dipping his head so his cheek pressed against mine. “No one, and I mean no one , speaks of you like that. Threatens you and lives.”
My stupid, ridiculous heart skipped a beat. “That’s so sweet,” I said, and I felt his arm loosen around my waist. “But you cheated.”
Jerking to the side, I slammed my elbow into his stomach as hard as I could.
Casteel grunted, letting go. I whirled, striking fast instead of going for the sword he still held.
My fist caught him in the corner of the mouth.
The shock of pain flared in his eyes, and I spun, dipping low as I swung my leg around.
He jumped, but I caught one leg, sweeping it out from underneath him.
He went down, and a shout of victory burst from me as I popped to my feet and turned to him, breathing heavily.