Chapter 40
Talear
The Ebony Fortress
From the moment Reyne had escorted Odin—restrained and protesting, from the throne room, Kendra remained on edge, her focus never straying far from the double doors.
Unfortunately, the lavish entertainment Mordick had ordered continued to impede her view.
Jugglers tossed flaming torches and glittering balls high into the air, their skillful hands never missing a beat.
Energetic acrobats twirled and leapt with grace, their feet moving in perfect harmony with the rhythm of the drums and the lilting melodies of the flutes.
She craned her head from side to side, desperate to catch a glimpse of the closed doors through the throng, but there was no sign of Reyne.
Reyne, where are you? The unknown created havoc in her mind, forcing her to take deep, slow breaths to calm her frayed nerves.
She picked up the chalice, hoping the vile creature beside her didn’t notice her trembling fingers as she took a hearty sip.
The performance reached its crescendo, the lead juggler performed a daring feat, balancing on a tightrope while juggling a trio of swords. The room gasped and then erupted into applause as he landed safely on the ground, bowing with a low sweep.
With seamless precision the acrobats removed their props, departing just as the music slowed to a sensual rhythm and alluring dancers—adorned in shimmering fabrics revealing lots of skin—filtered in.
They wove through the room, every sway of their hips and elegant sweep of their arms, captivating the guests.
Kendra was about to lose hope on Reyne’s return, when she noticed his bold entrance.
Her shoulders slumped in visible relief.
Reyne’s stormy gaze met hers from across the room. Every step he took was purposeful, his expression unwavering as he advanced. Her eyes tracked him as he disappeared and reappeared several times as he maneuvered through the throng of dancers and swiftly moving servants.
Then she saw it—the glint of the polished blade.
She blanched, her sense of relief only a short-lived reprieve. He couldn’t be planning what he appeared to be planning, could he? No. No. No. Her heart thumped against her ribs with such force she clutched the armrests for support.
"Mordrick," Reyne called out as he approached the elevated platform where they sat, longsword in hand, the tip practically dragging the floor. "I challenge you."
Several things happened at once. The music abruptly stopped with several ear-shattering notes.
Entertainers and servants alike paused mid-movement, their gazes shifting around nervously, unsure what to do, and the guests' conversations stilled as a hush descended, leaving the great hall in an awkward silence.
Kendra mouthed ‘no' and shook her head from side to side.
Beside her, Mordrick's sharp, narrowed glaze settled on Reyne. "Reyne, what nonsense is this? You can't be serious."
“Nonsense? I assure you, uncle, I am most serious.”
"You desire my throne? Is that it?" Mordrick questioned with a hint of wry amusement. He raised his chalice and took a deliberate, measured sip. “I hadn’t realized you had such ambitions.”
“I don’t want your throne.” Reyne lifted the sword and pointed the tip at Kendra’s chest, her heart. “I want her.”
Their gazes clashed, and Kendra felt a jolt that rocked her core. She knew she loved him, but in that moment any doubts she had about his love for her shattered. Her heart swelled and she fought the overwhelming urge to run to him and throw herself at him.
Mordrick let loose a crazed laugh that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “Let me see if I understand. You want to challenge me, for my bride, right now? During our betrothal celebration? In front of all our guests?” He gestured to the room with a sweep of his gloved hand.
Reyne flipped the longsword with his wrist, spinning it in a wide vertical circle, then gripped the hilt with both hands, assuming a defensive position. “Yes.”
“Alright. I’ll humor you, nephew.” Mordrick stood, the awkward sound of his chair scraping the wooden dais breaking the tense silence.
Taking his time, he shed first one gauntlet, then the other.
He removed the silver chain linking his mantle with intentional slowness before letting both fall to the floor in a heap, behind his chair.
Attired in military garb similar to Reyne’s—a sleeveless gray tunic, black sash and tight trousers tucked into shiny black boots, Mordrick flashed a smile right before he plucked Kendra from her seat and placed his repulsive lips on hers.
She stifled a scream and struggled in his unwanted embrace.
Before her teeth could sink into his lower lip, he released her with a quick thrust that sent her stumbling backwards.
She barely caught herself before she fell to the floor beside his discarded mantle.
“This won’t take long,” Mordrick told her, his tone a mix of arrogance and disdain.
Kendra wiped the back of her hand across her mouth in a show of disgust and moved to stand behind the high-back chair, gripping the wooden back.
“Reyne never truly mastered the sword.”
Color drained from her face at his words. Her gaze landed on Reyne, feeling his heated anger despite the distance between them.
Magnius approached from behind, a smile plastered to his face. He offered Mordrick his sword, pommel first. He released the blade from its scabbard and rounded the dais, stepping between the high table and the others littered with guests.
“So much for a willing bride,” Lord Mica snickered from the Valerian side of the room.
Several ambassadors seated beside him gasped.
Mordrick moved towards Lord Mica with lightning speed and poked the tip of his blade against his throat. “Choose your next words carefully, Lord Mica, or you will be the second man I kill today.”
With widened eyes, Lord Mica threw his palms in the air and swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing against the tip of Mordrick’s sword.
Mordrick spun on his heel, twirled the sword in a wide arc and stalked towards Reyne.
Servants and dancers who had remained motionless with silent anxiety, fled the moment he entered the center, leaving only Reyne and Mordrick standing between the ‘U’ shaped tables with their swords drawn.
Kendra's erratic pulse made her dizzy. What was Reyne thinking? Challenging Mordrick, a master swordfighter. Even she heard the whispers of his prowess. It was pure insanity.
“You have finally learned to lie. I am impressed.” Mordrick stepped and swung his weapon in a wide arc, a woosh cut through the air. “Now, I’m going to kill you for touching my bride.”
Reyne held his ground, his eyes burning with fierce determination as he deflected the attack, their swords sliding against each other, the metallic sound of steel against steel cutting the silence.
“Kendra is mine.”
“Yours?” Mordrick cocked his head and let loose a deranged laugh.
“I think not, Reyne.” Sidestepping, they danced around each other at a distance, their sword tips close, but not touching.
Reyne advanced and lunged. Their swords clashed several times.
They came together, grappling for a moment, almost nose to nose, before Reyne thrust against Mordrick, forcing them apart.
Kendra’s knuckles turned white as her grip tightened.
Mordrick regained his balance without missing a beat. He attacked and swung his sword in several quick arcs, catching Reyne's forearm on his last fierce swing. Reyne’s arm jerked and he hissed, taking a step backwards.
Recovering, he flicked his elbow and stepped forward.
Kendra cringed when she saw fresh blood trickle from a long gash on his right arm. Then she noticed the armband on his bicep and felt a small wave of relief.
At least his implant was protected.
“How many times have I warned you not to expose your fighting arm?” Mordrick mocked, his voice carrying across the hall as he and Reyne continued their careful dance, neither willing to turn their back.
“Apparently, not enough.” Reyne flicked his sword again in a vertical arc and swung downward. Mordrick took a forward step, blocking Reyne’s attack with an upward thrust. Their sword guards locked together as they grappled again, holding each other’s wrists.
Mordrick headbutted, knocking Reyne backwards and followed with a swift kick that landed with such brutal force that it sent Reyne sprawling to the floor and disarmed him.
Time slowed to a crawl as Reyne’s weapon clattered several times as the crossguard flipped and slid just out of his reach.
Collective gasps circulated the room.
Kendra covered her mouth and tears spilled onto her cheeks. No! No! No! Please No!
Mordrick stood over Reyne in triumph, gripping the hilt with both hands as he raised the blade above his head preparing to make a downward killing thrust. “Your pathetic father died for love. It seems fitting that so will his son."
Kendra let loose a scream. “Reyne, look out!”
Reyne dodged his attack by rolling aside at the critical instant and Mordrick’s sword clashed with the floor, where Reyne's heart previously had been positioned. Reyne rolled again, reaching towards his boot, towards the hilt of his dagger protruding from its sheath.
Bang.
The floor shook, causing glasses, dishes and utensils to rattle in unison and lights to flicker. Guests began murmuring, their unsettled gazes searching the great hall for the cause of the unexpected tremor.
Bang.
Mordrick paused, his sword stilling in the air as he also glanced around.
Kendra saw a glint of determination flash in Reyne's eyes. He reached and grabbed—not his dagger as she assumed—but a familiar shiny black strip. He leapt to his feet in one swift jump and slapped the strip onto Mordrick’s wrist with such remarkable speed that had she blinked, she would have missed it.