Sword Fight

by Nathan Van Coops

  “It was in the street near the tavern the morning after the fire,” Damon said, his eyes never leaving the road. “It was empty, so I figured you had what you needed. But I thought it was best to get it out of sight in case the City Watch ran across it.”

  “How did you know that I was the one who stole it?”

  “You talk in your sleep.”

  Valerie’s mind went into overdrive. Talked in her sleep? What other secrets might she have let slip during the night in his bed?

  He turned to look at her. “Look, the king is a just man. If you tell him your story, he’ll listen.”

  They pulled up to the round drive outside the entrance to the castle.

  “I wish you were going in there with me,” Valerie said.

  “I’m just your chauffeur tonight,” Damon said. “But you’ve got this. Jasper Sterling has it coming.”

  Valerie nodded, trying to regain the confidence she’d felt on the racetrack.

  Damon climbed out of the car and walked around to open the door for her.

  The broad steps of the entrance were jammed with attendees in elaborate masks and feathery hats. A court photographer was taking photographs along one edge of the walkway, and a long line of couples stood waiting for a chance to appear in the gossip pages.

  Valerie looked up at the imposing towers of the castle.

  Damon squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing in there that you can’t handle.”

  “Will I see you tonight? After?”

  “I’ll be here,” he replied.

  She nodded, then straightened up. An elegantly outfitted member of the royal guard approached to view her invitation.

  “A finisher. It’s an honor. I can escort you inside.”

  Valerie accepted the arm he offered. She turned to Damon, getting in one last glance.

  He gave her a reassuring smile.

  She exhaled and let her escort guide her across the drawbridge of the castle. The flags of the house of Pendragon flew alongside those of House Sterling. The cross and crown of the flag of Avalon flew above them all.

  Her escort led her through the open doors of the castle and onward to the entrance of the main ballroom. Hundreds of masked faces crowded the room. Dancers whirled across the dance floor to the elegant music of a full, live orchestra in the corner. Somewhere among all of these faces was the king. Her escort bowed deeply and took his leave, returning the way they’d come.

  Valerie turned and faced the waiting crowd, took a last deep breath, then stepped into the ball.

  Damon pulled the car around to the garages, then rolled inside and cut the engine. He climbed out of the Vulcan and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it in the driver’s seat. He stared at the jacket for a long moment, then moved to the back of the adjacent vehicle—a charcoal-gray Easton Blackbird. He unlocked the trunk of the car, and the light illuminated the gear inside. A red hilted sword rested in the rack on the trunk lid. He reached into the interior space and slowly donned the metal-studded jacket. He then picked up the masquerade mask. It was a reflection of the dueling mask beside it, all black with a crimson streak across one eye.

  He placed the mask over his face and let the world outside take on the tint of the lenses, then he slammed the trunk of the Blackbird and made his way to the castle.

  31

  Masquerade

  Brilliant chandeliers cast prisms of color around the ballroom, a whirl of glittering bodies reflecting them back. Valerie had stepped into a foreign world of strange faces and mysterious laughter. The only comfort she had was that the mask she was wearing concealed her identity as well. She roamed the ballroom in search of someone resembling King Logan, but if he was masked, she would be unlikely to recognize him.

  Eyes trailed her everywhere she moved. Gentlemen bowed and stepped aside. Women whispered and admired her dress and hair.

  She approached a laughing couple near the bar and tapped the young woman on the shoulder. The girl was wearing a white-and-gold mask with golden feathers flowing from it.

  “Excuse me, do you know if King Logan has been announced yet?”

  The girl in the gold mask stared at her, leaning closer and squinting. “Valerie?”

  Valerie immediately recognized the voice. “Thea? Is that you?”

  “Oh my God!” Thea wrapped her in a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here! I heard about you entering the tournament. We watched it all.”

  Valerie shrugged out of Thea’s embrace.

  The young man beside her pushed his mask up. “Hey. Looks like you do know how to drive after all.”

  “Remi Rothschild?” Valerie turned to Thea. “You came to the ball with Remi?”

  “His dad got us invited,” Thea replied.

  “He’s a sponsor of the tournament, so we have an all-access pass,” Remi explained.

  Valerie ignored him.

  “I’m so sorry about when you called,” Thea said. “I should have tried to get you that money, but you know how my dad is. He said we’d be shunned from high society. Can you imagine?”

  “Yeah. I can.” She didn’t have time for this. “What about the king, Thea? Is he here yet?”

  “He hasn’t been announced,” Thea said. “But the rumor is that he wanted to sneak in privately. That’s why it’s a masquerade. Everyone is trying to figure out who’s who, like a game.”

  “Damn it,” Valerie replied. “I really need to talk to him.”

  “I haven’t seen him. But we did find the queen,” Thea said. “She’s over there.” She pointed to a slender Asian woman in a sparkling dress. She was wearing a tall, intricate wig bedecked with jewels. Her mask was made of delicate, transparent glass. As far as disguises went, it wasn’t exactly effective.

  “If Queen Kimiko is here, then the king has to be around somewhere, doesn’t he?” Valerie eyed the various masked men in the vicinity of the queen. She didn’t see anyone that resembled the posters and photographs she had seen of King Logan, but she couldn’t be sure. One face was clearly recognizable, however. Ice-blue eyes behind a shining silver mask. Jasper Sterling. Lady Charlotte was there too, having opted for a silver-and-blue mask that only obscured a quarter of her face.

  Valerie slipped through the crowd, edging closer to the group and keeping her eyes on the queen. If King Logan was in the crowd, the queen was likely to give it away, wasn’t she?

  She picked up a drink from a passing serving platter and attempted to appear a casual bystander. Her dress worked against her in that regard as people kept coming up and complimenting her on it while making pointed attempts to ascertain her identity.

  Valerie gave polite greetings and was in the middle of declining an offer to dance from a tall, spindly gentleman in a powdered wig when Jasper Sterling fixed his eyes on her and began to approach.

  She grabbed the shoulder of the man in the wig. “Actually, I will take that dance after all.” She took the man’s arm and let him lead her to the dance floor. She affixed a smile to her face, and they whirled away into the crowd of dancers, leaving Jasper alone on the edge of the dance floor.

  The dance was a complicated affair that involved a great deal of twirling and switching of partners. She found it difficult to keep her eye on the queen and kept craning her neck to manage it as she was swept from one end of the ballroom to the other.

  To her dismay, Jasper Sterling entered the dance with a partner and was soon dancing nearby. She took the lead with her current partner and angled them both away. The group switched partners again, and due to her incorrect position, she was left standing on the sidelines momentarily. She turned to find the Red Reaper staring at her from behind his crimson-streaked mask. Valerie backed away, involuntarily bumping into a couple that was whirling by. The woman tripped and fell, sprawling onto her backside on the dance floor.

  “So sorry,” Valerie said, but then she seized the woman’s partner and whirled him away. The young man looked back with an apologetic glance but then got a good look at Valerie and s
hrugged. They picked up the pace and were soon back in the thick of the dancing.

  Valerie searched the crowd around the dance floor while simultaneously attempting to keep her dancing partner at a distance. The young man seemed to have taken her intrusion as an invitation and kept angling in to try to kiss her. She spotted the queen moving toward one of the exits to the garden. Was she meeting the king?

  The amorous young man attempted to push his face into Valerie’s for the third time, and she caught it with her hand, pushing it back. She then gave him a swift knee to the groin. Her partner doubled over.

  “Why don’t you dance that off,” Valerie said and swept past him, making for the door.

  She moved to the outside balcony and caught sight of the queen slipping into the hedge maze. As Valerie rushed down the steps to the lawn, she noted that she wasn’t the only one following. The Red Reaper emerged from the shadows near the far side of the lawn and entered the maze in pursuit of the queen.

  “What the hell?” Valerie said and rushed across the manicured grass to the maze.

  She paused at the entrance and peered inside, but there was no sign of her quarry. She entered the maze and worked her way down one avenue after another, attempting to keep her dress from catching on the hedges.

  After a few turns, she felt entirely lost, but she continued on, finally making out the low murmur of voices ahead. She peeked around the corner of the next hedge and found the Red Reaper and the queen standing midway down the row. The queen was removing something from beneath her skirts. She handed a packet of folded papers to the Reaper. “Give these back to Sterling. It’ll cement what we know.”

  “What about the girl?” the Reaper said, his voice a low growl behind the mask.

  “There is still tomorrow. We need to see it through to the end.”

  Valerie leaned closer to the hedge, attempting to hear better, and a twig snapped under her foot. She held her breath.

  “Someone is here,” the queen whispered. “Find them.”

  Valerie fled.

  She darted down the row and back the way she had come, attempting to navigate the way out. Somehow, it was even more confusing than the way in. Everything looked the same in the dark. The sound of footfalls the next row over hastened her flight. She rushed to a T in the maze and turned right, then right again, but hit a dead end. She froze as the footsteps grew closer.

  She could hear the Reaper breathing on the far side of the hedge.

  Not so much as a whimper escaped her own mouth as she waited, holding her breath.

  The Reaper moved on.

  She stayed hidden in place for half a minute, then moved again, carefully stepping in the softest grass and making no sound as she went. She came to a corner and peeked around the hedge and was startled to see the Reaper at the end of the row. But he was moving away with determined strides.

  She followed.

  He was least likely to search places he had already been, wasn’t he?

  But it seemed the Reaper was no longer searching at all. He led the way to the exit of the maze and strode across the lawn, never once looking back.

  Valerie frowned at his retreating figure.

  A clandestine rendezvous with the queen? Secret documents for the Sterlings? Something was going on here tonight. If she was going to convince the king of the Sterlings’ dishonesty, she needed to know what it was.

  She struck out across the lawn in pursuit of the Red Reaper.

  The noise and lights of the ballroom washed back over her as she slipped inside the garden door. She traversed the hallways that skirted the ballroom and caught sight of the Reaper turning a corner ahead. She rushed to the corner and peered around it, but there was no sign of him in the next hallway.

  Full suits of armor lined the walls, and between them, racks upon racks of swords. As she trod softly along the carpeted hallway, she recognized named blades from numerous houses. She walked to the end of the hall, but it was a dead end. The Reaper had to be in one of the rooms she had passed.

  She carefully tried the door handles as she retraced her steps, peering into room after vacant room. She was just about to close a door midway down the hall when her eye caught on a sword hanging on the wall behind a broad desk. She froze.

  The blade was out of its scabbard, mounted horizontally on the wall. It would have been recognizable anywhere, but they had even made a name plate for it. Durendal.

  It was mounted like a trophy, no better than a gilded cup or a rack of antlers. Her family legacy was just a prize for them.

  Valerie felt the anger rising in her as she strode across the room and crossed behind the desk. She was reaching for the sword when she heard the voices.

  She froze again, listening.

  The voices were coming from the bookcase.

  And they were getting closer.

  A click sounded from behind the bookshelf just to her left, then the shelf began to move.

  Valerie backpedaled, pushing herself into the corner of the room. There was nowhere to go. It was too far to the door. She would have to cross directly in front of the opening.

  She became a statue as two men exited the secret room. The first was the Red Reaper followed by Lord Alister Sterling.

  “ . . . and I cannot tell you how comforted I am knowing that these delicate items are safely in hand once again,” the silver-haired lord was saying. “Jasper is rather impulsive in his methods and at times lacks the finesse of a wiser man. It becomes a father’s duty to remedy his son’s mistakes.”

  The two men had their backs to her.

  “This Terravecchia girl has been an unexpected thorn. The documents she absconded with could easily have been misconstrued. It would be so unseemly to have to trouble King Logan with these matters during the royal visit, as you can imagine. You have saved us a great deal of inconvenience.”

  “I serve at your discretion, my lord,” The Reaper replied.

  Valerie studied the back of the man’s helmet. Not looking at his face, his voice almost sounded . . .

  “I have to admit, you had me worried,” Lord Sterling said, crossing to the side of the room and pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “Some of the photographs my man took down at the dock district made it seem you were quite close to the girl. It’s good to know where your loyalties lie.”

  “My loyalty has never wavered,” the Red Reaper replied.

  “Join me in a drink then,” Lord Sterling said. He poured a second glass and held it out it to the Reaper. “To loyalty.”

  The Red Reaper removed the mask from his face and accepted the glass. He held it aloft. As he did so, he turned toward the light.

  Valerie took a step back and hit the wall with a thud, knocking several books from the shelf.

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  Both men turned at the sound, and she found herself staring at the man she thought she knew. Damon’s glass fell from his hand and shattered on the floor.

  Valerie ran.

  32

  Sword

  Valerie raced down the hallway, then shoved her way out the first door she could find. It led to a courtyard filled with partygoers. She angled through the crowd, walking quickly at first but then breaking into a run. She ignored the stares and whispered comments. She had to escape.

  There was a wave coming, building on the horizon and swelling toward her. The pressure of it increased around her, a force that, at any moment, would crest and fall, crushing her beneath its weight. But there was nowhere she could run from this. It was as though the ground beneath her feet was betraying her, dragging her back toward this darkness. No matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t outrun it.

  She raced out of the courtyard and into the gardens.

  Once outside, she tore the mask from her face, pausing for only a moment to stare at the beautiful blue-green colors. She tossed it to the ground.

  She’d been a fool.

  How could she have thought he cared?

  This city belonged to
the Sterlings, and they would never let up. They would simply crush her and everything she wanted. They had proven that there was nothing she could desire that they couldn’t take away.

  Even Damon.

  Her eyes filled with tears, and she rushed onward.

  After a hundred yards, she took a glance back at the castle and saw Damon exiting the courtyard gate. His mask was off, and he was scanning the grounds, searching for her. He paused when he discovered the masquerade mask in the grass and stooped for it.

  Valerie cut through a second garden gate and ran downhill, curving around to the circular drive where she had been dropped off. She located a pair of valets lounging against the wall. She wiped at her eyes and shouted, “You! One of you. I need a ride.”

  The young men both looked up in surprise. They clearly hadn’t expected anyone to be exiting the ball so quickly.

  “We aren’t able to leave the grounds with vehicles,” one of them said. “Lord Sterling’s orders.”

  “Then find me a cab! There’s a man chasing me, and I really need to leave.” Her voice was on the edge of breaking. Tears kept welling up, and she continued to wipe at them, her fingers coming away stained with mascara.

  The two young men stared at each other but did nothing.

  “Fine. Never mind!” Valerie shouted. She lifted her dress again and ran down the drive, cursing the fact that she was in a dress. There was nothing elegant about this place anymore. It was a prison. A trap. A lie.

  She had made it perhaps a quarter mile down the long, twisting drive when she heard the car. Headlights swept around the bend, accompanied by the roar of a powerful engine. It was a sound she recognized. The Blackbird. The Reaper.

  Valerie plunged off the road into the woods.

  The lace of her dress snagged on branches as she ran. She leapt over fallen logs and pushed through a patch of brambles before emerging on a lower section of the road.

  It was too far. She could never run the entire way back. Not to Tidewater. Certainly not to her home in the valley. The headlights swept around a curve to her right this time, and she was about to flee back into the woods when she picked up the sound of the engine. It was a clunky, low-pitched rumble. Not the Blackbird. She stepped into the middle of the road and waved her arms. The car slowed. As she sidestepped the headlights and her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she got a look at the driver. He was a teenager. Fifteen maybe. In the passenger seat sat a girl, younger by several years but sharing an unmistakable resemblance to the boy. Just a couple of kids out for a joyride in their parents’ convertible.