Page 56 of A Rose Among Snakes (Gardens of Ruin and Revival)

Chapter Fifty-Five

Mihrra

L eoro’s incredulous laugh echoed off the walls.

“A duel? What are your terms?”

“If I disarm you first, we all go free, Kezara included. You will annul the marriage, and release Velian from your contract. In exchange, we will keep silent and never tell anyone that you pump Ziffem into the cities, lining your pockets with your citizens’ hard-earned money.”

“No, stop,” Velian panted, but I ignored him.

Leoro curled his lips, bearing an alarming resemblance to a wolf. “And if I win?”

“You get to do whatever you want to us.”

“Mihrra!” Velian yelled.

“Shut him up,” Leoro commanded. I didn’t look over, but my stomach clenched when I heard Velian grunt as a booted foot made contact with his ribs.

“What’s to stop me from doing whatever I want to you right now?”

A throat cleared behind him and he swung his head around as an elderly priest cloaked in white robes stepped out from behind the throne .

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the law in Clavo is firm. A duel must be accepted and the outcome respected.”

Leoro faced me again with a sneer, holding my stare for several moments. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he weighed his options.

“It seems you get the better end of this deal.”

“Are you afraid you’re going to lose?”

Please take the bait. Please.

He gave the guards a signal to let Velian up, and the sound of Kezara’s released breath matched the relief lightening the weight on my chest. Leoro gestured for a guard to hold Kezara, and after handing her off, he took the sword from the guard’s sheath. Twisting the weapon in his hand and examining the blade, his black eyes slunk across the room to meet mine.

“I accept.”

He motioned for the guards to release me, and they let me go with a shove. Stumbling, I turned around and glared at them. I grabbed the nearest sword on the ground, weighing it in my hands. It was heavier than I would have preferred, but I didn’t have time to find the perfect one. Leoro’s eyes narrowed as I stepped toward him.

We circled each other, Leoro crossing one foot over the other while I shuffled my feet to keep my stance open and balanced. Swords pointing at each other, Leoro flicked his wrist, hitting my blade. I kept my grip firm and easily parried his swat. He stepped back, then repeated the movement three more times, adding more strength each time, testing me. Still, I didn’t cave .

His lip twitched in frustration and I grinned at him, masking the fatigue already pulling at my arms from the weight of the sword. Aside from grunts of effort and the clashing of metal, the room was silent.

Leoro lunged at me and I stepped aside, causing him to stumble and catch himself. He wheeled around with a growl and lunged at me again. The ferocity of his swings changed and it grew difficult to keep up my charade of nonchalance. He began driving me back and the glint in his eyes told me he was no longer playing by the rules.

He was trying to kill me.

Ice tingled through me, my arms either numbing from meeting his bone-rattling strikes or the reality of the grave mistake I’d made. I was sure he’d never had any intention of letting me win, but the curl of his lip told me he hadn’t expected to work so hard for it. He was swinging so fast and strong I was unable to launch an attack of my own, only able to focus on defending my life. I shuffled back and my heel hit the step of the dais, knocking me off balance, and I fell backward, dropping my sword just out of arm’s reach.

“Mihrra!” Velian yelled, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off Leoro as he loomed over me, his continued advance confirming this wouldn’t end with a simple disarming. Above me, Kezara kicked out at him and he glared at her, practically hissing as the guards hauled her backward.

“You know,” he chuckled, “your father was in this same position when he died. When I killed him, that is. ”

My rage had dissipated as I focused on survival, but his words rekindled the flame. Leoro thrust his sword forward and grazed my cheek, drawing blood. I gasped in pain and Velian cried out and thrashed.

Panting, I asked, “Why?”

“Your father was a traitor!” He spat, his cool mask slipping. He reined in his temper and continued, “He didn’t approve of my plan to send Ziffem to the villages on the outskirts, like Roben where his precious little family lived. He threatened to incite a rebellion, and I couldn’t have that.”

I watched him pace back and forth in front of me, still crossing his feet one over the other.

“What would your dear father think if he knew you were involved with Velshan Blaise’s son? He would be so disappointed in you, Mihrra. Why, he’s probably turning over in his grave—or should I say the ditch where he was dumped for scavengers to pick his bones clean?”

I kicked my foot out, and in one swift movement, I swept his feet from under him and pulled the knife from my boot. Leoro fell on the steps beside me, freezing as I pressed the knife to his throat.

“Tricky girl,” he said, his soulless eyes boring into mine. I sat up, keeping the knife in place. I shifted my focus to grab my sword from the ground but was not quick enough as Leoro rolled out of reach and snatched his sword up.

I got to my feet first and lunged at him, forcing him to defend himself from the wrath renewing my strength. There was no erasing the conjured image of my father lying on the ground, begging for mercy, and this monster in front of me running him through with a sword.

He barely had time to react as I landed blow after blow, strike after strike. I could almost hear my father saying, “ That’s it, faster, again, again,” just as he had all those years ago when giving me lessons. The memory stoked me forward, allowing me to push past the fatigue creeping back in, as I supported each attack with every muscle in my body. He couldn’t keep up anymore and turned to run a few strides ahead and put some distance between us.

I followed, keeping my pressure relentless and as he turned to face me, his back slammed against the wall, rattling the iron candelabra fastened just above him. Leoro’s gaze darted to either side of his body as he evaluated his options. With an overhead arc, I brought my blade down aiming for the spot where his neck and shoulder met.

Leoro tracked the movement and jumped out of the way at the last second. Recovering faster than me, he mimicked my maneuver and raised his weapon over his head. As quickly as I could manage, I did the same and our swords met in the middle with a loud, metallic crash. We remained in that position, both straining to gain the upper hand, but he was stronger than me and I bent under the force. My spine arched backward and my arms shook with the effort.

Without warning, Leoro slid his blade down to smash against my crossguards, the force shuddering through me and loosening my grip on my sword. As he stepped back, he angled the edge to slice into the top of my exposed forearm. I cried out and reflexively dropped my arms, backing out of reach of his sword. Kezara yelled and Velian roared in anger, but I couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. Searing pain shot through my arm and I failed to lift it despite multiple attempts.

“Do you wish to forfeit?” Leoro taunted, chest laboring for each breath as he leaned back against the wall for support.

Blood flowed freely from the wound and I cradled it against my body, pressing my right forearm over the length of it, sword still in hand, and hissed, “ Never. ”

But my body disagreed.

I was lightheaded from exertion and, unable to persevere, fell to my knees, eliciting cries of fear from both Blaise siblings. Body trembling, I let myself glance over at Velian and the terror on his face broke my heart.

I tried.

I had tried to save them, but I failed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered to him.

Leoro’s diabolical laughter pulled my attention back to him, and I merely watched as he lifted the sword above his head once more to deliver the killing blow. I was ready to accept my fate.

I was done.

Leoro still rested with his back against the wall and as he lazily lifted his arms up, the blade slid between the iron limbs of the candelabra with a harsh scrape. He pulled his arms down and as he took a step forward, the crossguards caught on the iron fixture and stuck there. However, his momentum continued to carry his exhausted body forward, and the sword slipped out of his hands .

He looked at his empty palms, then back at the weapon dangling from the candelabra, his brow crinkled with confusion. Rage contorted his vile features and he charged at me, hands outstretched toward my neck.

“MIHRRA!” Velian’s bellow tore through my despair and spurred me back into action.

In the span of three long strides, I willed my wounded arm to assist the other one and firmly held my sword in front of me, skewering Leoro through his chest. His onyx eyes rounded in shock, and then he gave me a grim smile. Leaning over, his fingers grasped for my neck—and still enraged—pushed himself further onto my sword, wrapping his hands around my throat.

He squeezed tight, cutting off my air supply. I let go of the sword and grappled with his hands, clawing and scraping, but he gave no indication of feeling any pain. As if encouraged by my attempts at defense, his fingers constricted. My vision blurred around the edges, and my strength flagged. I was vaguely aware of everyone yelling my name, but I could hardly hear over the sound of blood pounding in my ears.

Then, as if he was standing right next to me, I heard my father’s voice say, “Fight, Mihrra. Don’t let him win. Don’t let him take you, too.”

A bolt of energy shot through my body, and I forced myself to my feet. Leoro’s fingers still gripped my neck, but I mustered my remaining strength to drive my knee up into his groin. He jerked, his fingers loosening enough for me to escape his hold. I reared back out of reach with a considerable gasp and then lunged forward again, my hands finding the hilt of the sword in Leoro’s chest.

I pulled the sword out and wasted no time slicing through the air and dragging the blade across his throat.

Blood spurted as he stumbled backward, clutching at his neck to staunch the flow. Eyes flaring and mouth gaping like a fish, he fell to his knees, never taking his hateful stare off me. A moment later, he stopped struggling and fell on his back, his blood pooling around him on the white marble floor. The only sound in the room was the blood gurgling from his slit throat as he clung to the remaining threads of life; until at last, he was finally still, obsidian eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.