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Something like a grunt of frustration echoes out, followed by a scuffle of feet. He thought he found me. Or I am getting under his skin.

“You love him. Your brother.”

“You loved yours. How did it feel to lose him?” Hollow jabs, meant to rile me. He does not know his opponent.

I do.

“Losing him truly to death is better than having him turn on me. Abandon me.”

This time his growl is immediate. A reaction.

He moves carelessly.

And I know where he is.

Launching a dagger ahead of my silent rush, the blade sinks into the flesh of his arm right before I swipe his foot out from under him. He bends with the movement, taking the gash on his arm to flow with the fall.

Ero is nimble, even when wounded.

And he is resilient to pain, like his brother.

Metal flashes. Our blades sing as they impact again and again. Soon we both wield two, dancing out in the open, moving across the space. Back and forth.

His skill is clinical. Perfect.

But now I notice something different. An uncertainty in his movements that was not there.

“When we fought before, you fought to die. What changed?” I jab, parry, stab, slash, duck, side flip, block.

Ero’s lip curls as he returns every slash blow for blow, his actions growing more rash, exaggerated. Block, lunge, dodge, stab, slash, evade.

“You tell me? Why have you only gotten more fierce since the first time we clashed?!”

“You would not understand.” I smirk, flinging myself forward, down on my knees, my back arching under a wild slice. Both of my blades fly straight toward his gut.

Two blades cross over mine, Ero launches himself over me in a headlong flip.

Fucking Diamantes and their acrobatics.

Not that I don’t have a few moves of my own. My palm plants on the ground in fluid motion, my feet slide out from under me, arching back into a single handstand that would make a breakdancer cry.

Ero’s forearm takes the brunt of my two footed kick, his other hand missing my spinning slash and taking another slice across the knuckles.

We’re both nicked, stinging and bloody.

But he is panting, holding his side where the tip of my knife connected.

“I do understand. He replaced me. He replaced his whole family.” His cold words and tone are contrasted in his gaze, those shark eyes showing pain, doubt.

“Who did you replace them with?” I shift tactics, having no desire to belittle him.

Ero’s glare falters. He backs away.

“What?”

“When you made the choice to keep them hidden, to let them escape. Because you did, didn’t you? Or have you lied to yourself for so long that you cannot remember?”

The front of the hall grows louder, the gap in the floor only a dozen yards behind him. One of the chandelier chains trails down through the opening, railed all the way around on this floor. Beyond, waist-high windows line the wall.