Page 36 of The Warrior Priest (After the Rift #1)

T he rule that dictated women weren’t allowed into the temple complex of Merdu’s Guards meant I had to remain at the gate while one of the brothers fetched Rufus, Vizah and Andreas.

Impatience made me pace back and forth, but wariness kept me alert for signs of Giselle.

I employed every sense I possessed, even after the three warrior priests joined me.

They immediately knew something was wrong, but Rufus’s words weren’t what I expected. “I suspected there was a problem when I read his note.”

“What note?” I asked.

“He must have sent it from the inn.” He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to me. This time I was in no doubt that it was written by Rhys. Giselle wouldn’t have encouraged Rufus to step into his role as master. It was the core of Rhys’s message, however.

“I thought it meant he’d decided to leave the order for you,” Rufus said as he tucked the letter back into his pocket.

“He wants to bring the high priest to justice,” I told them. “My uncle, too.”

“Merdu’s Guards aren’t a vengeful order,” Vizah said. “If he can’t force them to resign or turn themselves in, he’ll give up and come back.” Not even he seemed to believe his own words, however.

“The high priest won’t let him leave the high temple,” Andreas said. “He likes Rhys, but he likes his own power more. He’ll make sure his guards don’t let Rhys escape.”

Rufus turned and ran back through the gate, Andreas and Vizah at his heels. I followed. The priest at the gate tried to stop me, but I shoved him away with both hands. No one was going to keep me from helping Rhys.

The priests working in the stables prepared horses, including one for me. It had been years since I’d ridden on my own, but I was determined to do it. Getting on the back of a horse with one of the others would only slow them down and take them longer to get to Rhys.

It meant I fell behind the moment we exited the gate, however. The three warrior priests had already turned the corner, heading in the direction of the high temple, when Giselle dropped onto me from a tree branch as I passed beneath it.

Despite my shock, I managed to twist as we fell and land on the ground beside her instead of under. It meant I didn’t have the full force of her weight pinning me and was able to scramble to my feet. My hip and shoulder ached but I forced myself to focus on Giselle, not the pain.

We squared up to one another, slowly circling. Neither of us had drawn weapons.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she sneered. “You can’t leave him alone, can you? You always come back. Has he agreed to leave the order for you yet? No?” She clicked her tongue in mock disappointment. “So sad. The grand love story that never was.”

In the edges of my vision, I saw that my horse had returned home and the priest guarding the gate held its reins. Behind him, the gate was open. Some brothers emerged. Realizing what was happening, they stepped toward us.

I put up a hand. “Stay back. This is between Giselle and me.”

They murmured amongst themselves, questioning whether they should intervene anyway. One even went so far as to suggest it’s what Rhys would want.

“No, he wouldn’t,” I called out, louder than the volume at which they spoke so they could hear. “He wants this resolved. Those are his orders.”

“Eavesdropping again?” Giselle asked. “It’s rather a rude habit.”

“But a useful one.”

“Do you really think you can beat me?”

“I’m not sure, but a wise person taught me a lesson today. He said some things are bigger than the individual. Sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself for the greater good.”

“Ugh. Typical Rhys. So righteous. Defeatist, too. Where’s your positivity, Jac? Or did it leave you along with the man who refused to be your lover?”

“It’s only defeatist if I plan on dying while capturing you. I assure you, I do not.”

Her brittle chuckle raked my nerves. “It seems you didn’t learn the lesson I taught you today. Time for a revision class.” Instead of lunging at me, she reached behind the tree trunk and produced a sword she’d stashed there.

I leapt back as the blade sliced through the air, then leapt back again and again to avoid being cut to ribbons.

I heard the whine of a sword being drawn from its scabbard and held out a hand to receive it from the priest.

Giselle smirked. “They’re not going to help you, Jac. They loathe you. You’re the one who took Rhys away from them. They want you dead as much as the high priest does.”

The sword was thrown perfectly, and I caught it easily by the hilt.

Giselle’s face dropped as she realized her plan to get away with killing me looked less likely with witnesses on my side rather than hers.

She must have been relying on them hating me to get away with murdering me and escaping. She’d misjudged them badly.

I pointed the sword at her, my feet a little apart, my other hand ready to withdraw my dagger.

She lunged toward me. I parried and engaged her.

The fight was even, each of us parrying the other’s strikes or getting out of the way before being cut.

If we continued to fight only with swords, the winner wouldn’t be determined by skill but by whoever could outlast the other.

But I didn’t want to win. I wanted a confession in front of witnesses. It might be the only way to save Rhys, if he wasn’t already dead.

I removed my dagger and threw it. It missed her.

I didn’t give her time to gloat, however.

I rushed forward and engaged her once again in a sword fight.

We didn’t stand still and parry one another’s strikes.

We circled around, moved back and forth, and jumped over the other’s blade when it was slashed in a low arc.

She used the tree trunk and branch to hang from, while I employed the somersaults and flips I’d perfected during training.

“Impressive,” she said after I did three backflips in a row to avoid her thrashing sword. “But you’re tiring.”

She was right. But I wasn’t the only one.

Her smile and quick footwork were an act.

My keen sight noticed her sword arm drop as the weight of the weapon sapped her strength.

Her breathing became labored, and a bright flush colored her cheeks as beads of sweat dampened her hairline. She wouldn’t last much longer.

I ran at her, sword pointed at her chest, teeth bared in an angry last-ditch effort.

She sidestepped out of the way, kicked me in the behind, and sent me tumbling into the dust. I dropped my sword as I fell, just catching myself before I landed face down in the dirt. I hissed in pain as layers of skin on both palms scraped off.

I flipped onto my back, but it was too late to scramble away. Giselle stood above me, sword pointed at my throat. She smiled through her heaving breaths.

“I give up!” I cried. “You beat me.”

My gamble paid off. The opportunity to gloat, to be viewed as a winner in front of dozens of warriors, gave Giselle pause.

She wasn’t ready to kill me. She wanted to soak in her success a little longer with an audience looking on.

Ending my life would end her euphoria. “You put up a good fight, Jac, but you don’t have what it takes. Almost, but not quite.”

“By defeating me you defeat Rhys, too,” I said. “He failed to protect me.” I worried it was a little too thick, exposing my tactic, but Giselle nodded enthusiastically.

Whispers and murmurs rippled around the group of warrior priests, but Giselle didn’t seem to hear them. “I suppose I have. If you’d trusted in yourself and not relied on a man to rescue you, this outcome could have been different.”

“Is that why you want Rhys to take the blame for killing me? To thoroughly defeat him?”

The murmurs grew. Some of the warrior priests stepped toward us, but others held them back. Giselle did notice their reaction this time. The first flicker of uncertainty passed across her face. She had two choices—deny it but risk not being believed, or admit the truth and justify her actions.

She chose the latter. “I don’t want to kill you, Jac. The high priest does. He hired me.”

The murmurs grew louder. Some of the warrior priests shouted denials and others whipped out their swords to challenge her.

“It’s true!” she shouted back, her gaze and sword point still on me. “He knew Jac was a threat to Rhys’s loyalty to the order and would remain so while she lived. He hired me to assassinate her so Rhys could continue as your master without distraction.”

“That’s a lie!” one warrior priest snarled.

“Our faith forbids taking a life unless in battle,” growled another.

“The high priest is above suspicion,” added a third.

Giselle’s lips thinned, her nostrils flared. The point of her blade bit into my neck. I smelled blood.

She could kill me before anyone could stop her. My gamble would fail. Except I remembered something she’d forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“You can prove it to them,” I urged her. “The letter.”

She removed the piece of paper she’d shown me earlier at the ruins. “The high priest wrote to me. It’s all in here.” She thrust the letter in the direction of the group of warriors.

And in so doing, she was distracted for the briefest of moments.

I batted the blade away from my throat, cutting my hand in the process. I winced but there was no time to wallow in the pain. I rolled out of the way and collected my sword then rose onto my knees just in time to parry Giselle’s blade before it removed my head from my shoulders.

My training had taught me how to fight off someone whilst on my knees and I employed every one of the moves Giselle had taught me in Upway.

Just as she’d said then, my excellent memory bolstered my instincts.

It meant I could predict her every move, but her experience meant she could predict mine.

We moved as one, two dancers whose steps were choreographed by a masterful teacher. It was predictable for both of us.

Until it wasn’t.