Chapter 20 #2
Struggling against her grip, Gregory gritted his teeth, heaving in rage. “I’ve had enough of this disgusting charade. Sophie, we are leaving now.”
As if he wanted to rub salt into the wound even further, the Wicked King scoffed, “Of course you will. You are a coward.”
“Bastard!” With a furious growl, Gregory pushed past Sophie to draw his sword. He drove forward, his weapon cutting cleanly through the air toward the king’s shoulder in a precise and well-practiced strike, the kind that should have forced any opponent onto the defensive.
The Wicked King drew his sword so fast, I barely glimpsed it. Steel rang sharply as he deflected the blow, his movement so minimal it was almost insulting. He stepped back only a fraction, not even attempting a counterattack as though he were merely observing rather than participating.
The king noted Gregory’s retreat instead of advancing again. “Oh, what is it? Are you afraid of fighting me?”
Gregory’s eyes flickered. “You have an unfair advantage with your magic.”
My jaw almost dropped. That was his concern?
The king lifted his shoulders. “Let’s say I won’t use my magic then. Are you afraid you are still no match for me?”
“I back down from no challenge,” Gregory seethed. “Use your magic if you must. That only makes you cowardly. But I will fight to the death if that’s what it takes to save my people from your tyranny. How do you respond?”
I groaned out loud. “Gentlemen, there is no need for any of this—”
The king cast me a nonchalant glance. “Look here, witch, it seems the good prince means to negotiate once again.” He held out his hands. “What are your terms, Your Royal Highness?”
“If I win, you must go back to your side of the river and never return.”
“Fine. I accept.”
“And Allie stays here with us,” Gregory added.
The king stiffened.
“What?” I gaped at Gregory.
“Allie is too good for you,” Gregory sneered. “Her services are invaluable. She deserves better. Sophie and I can keep her safe at Lucerne.” His gaze warmed as they met mine.
I caught my breath, already sensing where he was going.
“And…” Gregory went on. “I’d like to get to know her better. She’s exactly the type of woman I’ve been looking for.”
The king snarled, “And what if I win?”
Gregory dropped his somber gaze. “If you have any honor at all, you will kill only me. You will leave my people alone.”
The king’s eyes blazed. “I should raze your entire kingdom to the ground right now—malady or not.”
Gregory bared his teeth. “That only goes to show who the better man is even more.”
“Hey, I never agreed to this—” I called out in vain. There was no way I could step in and intervene. I met Sophie’s eyes, but she merely shot me a helpless shrug in return.
The Wicked King struck first with a swift downward slash that Gregory barely caught in time, steel crashing against steel before he twisted sharply and drove a counterstrike toward the king’s ribs, knocking into a row of potted plants that shattered across the conservatory floor in sprays of damp soil and broken ceramic.
His Majesty deflected the blow with unnerving ease, their blades skidding together in a shower of sparks as Gregory was forced backward again, his shoulder slamming into another planter that toppled violently beside them.
I gawked at the Duchess. “Are you not going to do anything to stop this?”
The Duchess’s blue eyes shone with glee, her fan flapping harder. “Oh, don’t mind me. I do enjoy watching the young men tussle.”
Chez made a retching sound.
Same, Chez. Same.
Sophie seemed likewise entranced by the view.
I could hardly catch my own breath.
Even in combat, His Majesty was devastating to watch—his movements fluid and precise, each strike unfolding with a lethal grace that turned violence into something almost hypnotic.
His firm muscles drew taut beneath his tunic with every controlled motion, strength and elegance entwined in a way that made it impossible to look away.
“She is not from this world. You cannot keep her.” He pivoted smoothly into another vicious strike aimed at Gregory’s shoulder, forcing him back across the stone.
Undeterred, Gregory lifted his chin. “She will be free to come and go as she likes, so long as she doesn’t stay with you.
” Recovering quickly, he reset his stance and circled.
He struck again, this time lower and faster, aiming for the king’s side with more force and urgency, but the result was the same.
The king turned the blade aside with a flick of his wrist, their swords scraping together in a shrill clash before separating again as Gregory faltered sideways into a tall ceramic planter, sending it crashing to the floor in a burst of shattered clay and scattered leaves.
The king’s eyes glinted in indignation. “I possess her heart. It has always been mine. It will forever be mine. You will never own it.”
“If she will have me, your claim will have no bearing.” Holding his own, Gregory stepped back.
His breathing grew heavy, strands of golden hair falling loose against his damp brow, his grip tightening as he prepared himself again.
His tight muscles strained and shifted beneath the fight, his every movement edged with determination, with passion.
I supposed I should have been flattered. The King of Wünder and the Prince of Lucerne appeared, by all accounts, to be fighting over me. Yet beneath it all, it evoked more of a battle about pride—the desire to claim me.
Did they even stop to consider that I deserved the right to choose for myself? That I had my own goals and intentions?
Of course, regardless of what I wanted, or who I deemed to choose—that was, if I chose anyone at all, I certainly didn’t want either of them to get hurt or killed.
“You are the biggest threat to Allie’s life, to her well-being, and you don’t even realize it.
Or maybe you do, and what does that make you?
” Gregory feinted high before twisting mid-motion, redirecting his blade toward the king’s unguarded side in a maneuver that was faster, sharper, and more desperate than anything before it—
It almost landed.
The Wicked King moved.
Not with haste, nor with any visible strain, but with a precise, controlled motion that met Gregory’s blade at exactly the right angle, stopping it cold with a force that rang through the hall.
Before Gregory could recover from the impact, the king stepped forward and brought his own weapon down in a decisive, overwhelming strike. Gregory’s sword was knocked from his hand, clattering loudly across the stone floor.
The king shot forward as though he would strike another blow—it would have been brutal, devastating, final. But he stopped.
He took a deep breath. His eyes on the floor, his words were a deep growl in his throat, “Leave us now.”
Gregory blinked. He looked quite winded, uncertain, as if he had already steeled himself for a painful death that did not come.
His shoulders were still heaving. His eyes flickered as if he almost wanted to take up his sword once again, but then his expression cleared.
His throat bobbed as the true outcome of the duel settled over him.
The king was letting him live.
“Whew.” The Duchess guzzled a flute of champagne.
“That was quite exhilarating.” She set the glass down on the table, then clapped.
“My dears, that was marvelous!” She didn’t seem to care at all that her conservatory had fallen into elegant disarray, with shattered pots, scattered soil, and broken branches littering the floor.
Trance broken, Sophie rushed to her brother’s side, quickly assessing any injuries needing tending before taking a deep breath of relief.
I stared at the Wicked King. He remained still, his gaze on the floor.
He didn’t seem strained by the fight at all, at least not physically.
He could have killed Gregory—easily. But I couldn’t read the expression on his face, the crinkle between his eyebrows.
Was it remorse? Was he merely holding back?
Was he going to strike once Gregory’s back was turned?
The nearby neighing of horses punctuated the situation, drawing both mine and Sophie’s attention out the window.
Chez hopped up to perch upon the balcony railing. He glanced toward the courtyard. “Your horses seem to be getting restless.”
Sophie took a deep breath. “I think their timing is quite impeccable.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her regal chin in authority, radiating the confidence of someone finally taking charge.
“Perhaps it is indeed time for us to depart.” Taking her skirts, she turned to the Duchess first. “Thank you very much for your assistance.” She curtsied low.
“It was a pleasure to meet the legendary Duchess.”
The Duchess gave her an acknowledging nod.
“The pleasure was all mine, Princess of Lucerne.” She lifted her hand in a wave, moving toward the foyer.
“I think I shall instruct the stablehands to ensure whatever supplies Their Royal Highnesses might need for their journey will be sent along. Come, Fluffy.”
With a short mewl, Chez hopped off the balcony railing to follow his master out of the hall.
Sophie took her brother’s arm securely in hers—as if to prevent any further incidents, as she moved toward the door. “If we make haste, we should arrive home before sunset.”
Gregory paused mid-stride anyway. He turned to meet my gaze. “Please come with us, Allie. You know we are the better option.” His gray eyes shining with his final plea, he lifted his hand and held it out.