by Monica Burns
The raw pain in the woman's voice was an emotion Emma could identify with far too easily. She blinked back tears at the thought of her parents. Charlie. The young man who'd been tortured to death. The woman's song grew louder as the singer emerged from the trees and walked toward the funeral pyre. The fact that it was Phae didn't surprise her. Ares's sister halted at the head of the wooden funereal structure. When she'd finished her song, she lowered her head and her body folded inward in a clear display of sorrow.
Emma saw Ares watching his sister with a look of concern. He even took a step toward her, but Phae suddenly straightened and started to speak. Over the next ten minutes, Ares's sister shared memories of her friend in a moving eulogy. When she'd finished, she threw back her head and shouted out in Latin the words, 'he lives twice who dies well.' At her raw cry, the fighters around the funeral pyre drew their swords and repeated her shout.
"Bis vivit qui bene moritur." It was a roar of pain, grief, and defiance all in one.
Phae retrieved an unlit torch off the ground and set it on fire with a nearby flame. In a singular move the fighters sheathed their swords and picked up unlit torches off the ground in front of them. Phae lit Ares's torch and then Lysander's before thrusting hers into the head of the funeral pyre. The flame from Phae's torch passed its way down the two lines of Sicari fighters. One by one they thrust their torches into the pyre. In less than a minute, the wooden structure erupted with a roar as the fire engulfed it.
The heat from the flames forced everyone back except for Phae. The expression on her face echoed with more than just sorrow. There was guilt there as well. Lysander took two steps toward her, but she must have seen him move because her head jerked in his direction. Pointing to the fire, she shook her head and said something softly to him.
The Sicari warrior went rigid, his angelic, demonic face a twisted mask of guilt. Without a word, he turned away and retreated to the edge of the circle, his tall frame a shadowy figure against the dense forest surrounding them. Ares frowned with puzzlement and moved toward his sister.
With a violent shove, she threw off his touch of comfort and retreated a short distance to turn and watch the funereal flames shoot high into the air. There was a forlorn look about her that made Emma's heart ache for her, but she understood the other woman's need to be alone in her grief.
As the flames roared high into the sky, four Sicari fighters moved to stand guard at each corner of the pyre. This final act seemed to signal the end of the ritual, and the gathering slowly dispersed. More than ever, Emma felt every bit the aliena, and she retreated a small distance into the shadows. As the mourners moved along the path back to the mansion, she remained as still as possible to avoid drawing attention to herself.
Although several people glanced her way, no one spoke to her. For that she was grateful. Her luck didn't hold. The young man who'd been studying her so closely inside the house headed up the path. He'd almost passed her before he seemed to sense her presence. Anger filled the man's stride as he drew his sword and headed toward her. She flinched. Oh God, not again.
"Go back to your Praetorian masters, aliena, or I'll kill you myself."
The vicious hostility emanating from the fighter sent Emma's heart plummeting down to her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ares running toward her, while Lysander approached from the opposite direction. Before Ares could reach her, the Sicari angrily thrust his sword arm up into the air with a shout of rage. Fear left her as she resigned herself to the fate she was certain to come. With another loud roar, the young man abruptly whirled around and dropped his sword arm to point his weapon at Ares in a defiant gesture.
"Ares DeLuca, I call Dux Provocare."
The moment the fighter's words reverberated through the glade, the entire gathering turned toward the new drama taking place. His expression cold, Ares shook his head.
"If you wish to challenge me, fine. But not here, Maximus. It's an insult to Julian's memory."
"You bring an aliena into our guild the same night my brother is murdered by those Praetorian bastards, and you dare to suggest I'm insulting Julian?" Maximus sent her a sharp glare before returning his gaze back to Ares. "Her presence here shows you've lost your edge. It's my right to call Dux Provocare. Here and now if I so choose."
"As you wish." Ares shrugged and turned his gaze on her. "Stay with Lysander and don't interfere no matter what happens."
"But I--"
"Fotte. Now's not the time, Emma. Just stay out of this. I'll explain later."
Chastened by his terse manner, she nodded her agreement. Satisfied, Ares nodded sharply at Maximus then turned and walked away from the younger man. The younger Sicari, an expression of rage on face, charged after him.
In a flash of movement, Ares's sword left its scabbard and the light of the funereal flames danced off his blade. With his back still to Maximus, he swung his sword over his shoulder and stopped the other fighter's weapon with a resounding clash of steel. The blades still locked together, Ares pushed upward while twisting his body around and a second later Maximus went flying backward without Ares even touching him. Emma grabbed Lysander's arm.
"What the hell are they doing?" she asked without taking her eyes off the two men.
"It's called the Dux Provocare. The leadership challenge. Maximus is challenging Ares's authority and right to lead the guild. If Ares wins, then all is well." Lysander didn't expand on the explanation, and she sensed he'd omitted something. She looked up at him to see a grim expression on the angelic portion of his face. She shivered, but it wasn't from the chilly night air.
"And if he loses?" She returned her gaze back to the two warriors, and gasped as Ares barely missed a vicious swing of Maximus's blade.
"The winner will be the new leader of the guild." Phae's voice broke slightly as she joined them on the opposite side of Emma. "And unless the winner decides to show mercy, the loser forfeits his life. Maximus is not feeling generous tonight."
The strain in Phae's voice deepened the chill crossing Emma's skin and she dug her fingers deeper into Lysander's arm. Why didn't he do something? The only reason the man had challenged Ares was because of her.
"You have to stop this, Lysander," she whispered as she looked on in horror. "All of this is my fault. I shouldn't have come here tonight."
"We cannot interfere. Maximus would have challenged Ares anyway. He blames Ares for his brother's death. Grief is driving him, not common sense. The man knows he's no match for Ares."
Despite the confidence in the grim-faced warrior's voice, Emma knew he was concerned, almost as much as Phae was. The gathering had closed ranks around the two fighters until the two men fought inside a fairly small circle. As she watched them fight, sparks flew off their steel blades with each vicious blow.
With a smooth swing of his sword, Ares knocked his opponent's weapon aside before flipping his sword and slamming the pommel of his sword's hilt into Maximus's head. The young Sicari staggered backward, shook his head, then charged forward again. His expression one of disgusted disbelief, Ares simply stood there waiting for the other man to reach him.
Her heart in her mouth, Emma clenched her teeth in an effort to keep her screams inside as Maximus swung his sword. In a blinding flash of speed, Ares tucked himself into a ball to roll under and past the blade headed toward his chest. The movement happened so quickly that it looked as though he'd rolled forward on a cushion of air. Emma drew in a sharp breath. His telekinetic abilities. He was using his special gift to his advantage. Now that she thought about it, even some of Maximus's thrusts had gone awry without any physical interference. Somehow, the knowledge reassured her.
Exasperation hardening his features, Ares sprang to his feet in a fluid movement of grace and power then proceeded to elegantly slide the tip of his sword across Maximus's back to draw first blood. The counterattack took all of two seconds, and Ares's opponent whirled around with another cry of anger.
Behind the two fighters, the funeral pyre provided a brilliant illu
mination of the combat. The fire raged inside its stone circle, and its flames danced yellow, red, and blue streams of light off the swords that crashed loudly in the crisp fall air. Neither man gave ground, yet Ares remained untouched.
A fact for which Emma was grateful. Knowing she was the reason for the duel made it painful to watch. If something happened to Ares, she didn't think she'd be able to forgive herself. Both men were breathing hard now, and small clouds formed where the warmth of their breaths met the fall air. Despite the alcohol Maximus had consumed, the only thing it seemed to have done was slow his movements. But what he lacked in speed, the younger man made up in brawn.
Her heart slammed into her breastbone as Maximus's blade came within an inch of Ares's chest before an invisible force deflected the sword's deadly arc. In retaliation, Ares darted forward and brought his sword down and across Maximus's arm. A roar of anger bellowed out of the injured man, and Ares glared at him.
"End this now, Maximus, and I'll grant you Indulgentia."
"And give you free rein to have your Praetorian bitch warm your bed," Maximus said with a sharp shake of his head and smiled nastily at the look of cold fury that crossed Ares's face. "Yes, I've seen the way you look at her. Everyone has. So know this. The minute I'm through with you, I'm going to kill her, too."
The rage in Maximus's voice obliterated the embarrassment his accusation sent crashing through her. The fighter meant every word about killing Ares first and then her. God, she hadn't even slept with the man. And if Maximus had his way, she never would. She almost gave in to the hysterical laughter that followed the fleeting incongruous thought. All that mattered was Ares's survival. In a sudden move, Maximus lunged forward and drew blood as he brought his sword down onto Ares's shoulder.
The grimace of pain on Ares's face tugged a moan from her. The pain he was in had to be excruciating because Maximus had reopened the shoulder wound he had suffered the night before. The blade splayed opened his black knit shirt to reveal a wound that flowed with enough blood to sicken her. She closed her eyes to control the dizziness washing over her. Beside her, Phae released a quiet cry of panic. It made Emma tremble with renewed fear. If the other woman was afraid, then it could only mean Ares was in deep trouble.
The two fighters circled each other on the damp grass. Packed down beneath their weight the grass glistened with blood and a slight condensation from the cool, night air. Maximus charged forward. Ares was prepared for his opponent's move. He threw himself up into the air at almost a horizontal angle to slam his feet into Maximus's chest, bringing the younger man's forward momentum to an abrupt halt. Ares completed his move by twisting his body in midair and landing lightly on his feet with his back to his opponent.
His sword glittered in the firelight as Ares swung it out in front of his body then deftly twisted his wrist so the blade changed direction to meet Maximus's forward lunge. Like an arrow finding its mark, Ares drove the sword backward under his arm and plunged it into the younger man's thigh. The other man howled with pain, and for the first time in her life, Emma took pleasure in another person's agony. She closed her eyes in a brief prayer of gratitude.
Beside her, Lysander grunted with something she could only think was satisfaction, while Phae breathed a sigh of relief. His expression grim, yet determined, Ares withdrew his sword then rose to circle the other man as Maximus straightened upright. Favoring his injured leg, the younger fighter glared at Ares.
The two men were so close to where she was standing, Emma could smell the metallic scent of the blood flowing from their wounds. It sickened her. But it wasn't just the smell she found disturbing. The violence of the fight was barbaric. Maximus swung his sword hard, but Ares easily blocked the attack. Steel met steel, and with a shriek of metal both blades slid downward against each other to lock at the hilt. Maximus's face twisted into an ugly scowl.
"I will defeat you."
"We shall see," Ares said in a cold voice as he braced himself against the hilt of his sword and shoved the younger man away from him.
His expression resolute, Ares swung his weapon downward with chilling purpose and sliced into the other man's arm. This time, Maximus's expression revealed resignation as if he realized he was losing. With renewed stamina, Ares advanced on the man with a flurry of strikes and all Maximus could do was block the blows. Relief warmed its way through her. He was going to win. He wouldn't die.
Until this moment, she hadn't realized she was more worried about the possibility of Ares dying than herself. She didn't linger on the thought. Once more Ares attacked, but as he did so, he lost his footing on the slick grass beneath his feet. He quickly recovered with a forward roll to land in a crouch. But even that maneuver didn't save him as he encountered another slick patch of earth. Maximus, sensing a victory, grinned with malice as he stepped forward.
"No." Emma didn't think. She reacted.
In the space of seconds, she was standing between the two men with Maximus clutching his sword in both hands above his head. In that instant, she realized she was probably going to die, but she couldn't just stand by and watch Ares be killed because of her. Swallowing hard, she gathered up as much bravado as she could muster and glared at the man in front of her.
"Well, what are you waiting for? You said you were going to kill me, now's your chance."
The moment her words split through the air, everything in the universe seemed to come to a screeching halt. The old adage so quiet you could hear a pin drop came to mind as the only sounds echoing in the small glade were from the funereal fire crackling fiercely and the breeze stirring in the trees. Terrified, she was breathing hard, and her breath crystallized in small puffs of cottony white air. Dead silence was an oxymoron because amazement, anger, and intense disapproval pulsated and rippled through the crowd encircling her, Ares, and Maximus. If possible, the gathering's silent, yet fierce, denouncement of her action made the temperature drop several more degrees. She shivered, but she wasn't sure if it was from fear or the cold. The rage on Maximus's face slowly died as she looked him in the eye.
"Well," she said defiantly. "What are you waiting for?"
"That's enough, Emma," Ares said in an icy voice.
At that moment Maximus brought his sword down with blazing speed, and Emma closed her eyes, fully expecting to die a terrible death. The sword didn't come anywhere near her. Instead, Maximus drove it into the earth, and when he released it, the weapon wobbled back and forth from the force of his blow. Ares pushed her aside with something less than gentleness, and she frowned. Didn't he appreciate her sacrificial act? Ungrateful bastard. Maximus dropped to his knees.
"My life is yours to do with as you will, il mio signore." Contrition filled the Sicari fighter's voice, and Ares roughly grabbed Maximus by the cuff of his neck. With a jerk he dragged the other man to his feet with an angry growl.
"If you ever challenge me again, I won't spare you any quarter like I did tonight. We both know the only reason you drew blood was because I didn't want you to lose face in front of your parents and the Prima Consul. Now get the hell out of my sight before your parents lose another son."
Thoroughly chastened, Maximus turned and walked away, leaving Emma alone with Ares in the circle. The muscles of his back were hard and rigid with tension beneath his knit shirt. When he slowly turned to face her, the dangerous power rippling through every movement he made sent trepidation skating down her spine. Cold fury had chiseled his features into a stony expression, and another shiver of fear slid across her skin. His anger puzzled her, and she trembled as he slid his hand through her hair to curl around the back of her head in a painful grip.
"You have no idea what you've done, cara."
"I repaid the favor. I just saved your life."
"You did no such thing," he snarled. "I had everything under control. Maximus would have been on the ground with my sword at his neck in a single move. But instead, you interfered in a matter that didn't concern you--in front of my guild and other members of the Order."
She flinched at his fury. For the first time she realized it wasn't her attempt to save his life that enraged him--it was that she'd done it in front of everyone watching. She'd made him look weak.
"I'm sorry."
"Not half as sorry as we're both going to be," he growled. Something bad was going to happen. She could see it in his stormy blue gaze as he cleaned the blade of his sword with a cloth he'd pulled out of his pants pocket. Grim-faced, he eyed her coldly. "Hold out your hand, Emma."
"Why?" She eyed him with suspicion.
"You lost the right to ask questions the minute you interfered," he rasped.
She winced as her wrist ached beneath an invisible vise for a brief moment before the pressure was gone. Swallowing hard, she slowly extended her hand. His gaze harsh, she flinched as he forced her hand open wide with his unseen touch. A low murmur erupted from the crowd, but it was a startled cry of protest that made her instinctively turn her head. Phae was watching them with an expression of horror.
In that moment, fire blazed across Emma's palm. With a scream of pain, she jerked her head back toward her hand to see blood flowing from a gash across her palm. Her gaze flew upward to Ares's unreadable features. He'd cut her. He'd used his goddamn sword to slice her palm open.
