Crump visibly collected himself, then lifted his sword and charged, hollering like a wild boar.
Elizabeth waited until he was almost on her, then stepped aside and flicked out her blade, flipping his own sword up and out at such an angle that it flew from his hands and soared across the grass to land at Stephen’s feet.
“Why, Crump,” said Stephen. “It looks like you dropped something.”
The big man was skidding across the grass, trying to catch his balance before he fell face-first into the solid stone wall of the castle. He righted himself just in time, then spun around, his wide face bright red with anger.
“Well,” said Stephen. “That’s that, then. Au revoir. Come back in a week prepared to negotiate like gentlemen. I assume you dropped enough bread crumbs to find your way home through the forest?”
Crump stalked over to Stephen, bared his teeth in a humorless grimace, then swiped up his fallen sword.
“Please don’t take your defeat personally,” said Elizabeth. “You are not the first inadequate man to face me, nor shall you be the last. Many discover much too late that the skills he thought he possessed—”
Crump lifted his sword high, showing no sign of surrender.
“The duel is over,” Stephen shouted. “Elizabeth won! You can’t keep—”
“Stay back,Densmore,” Elizabeth yelled back pointedly. “I’ll deal with this knave.”
Crump sneered, not appearing the least bit susceptible to being dealt with.
Stephen appealed to Reddington. “Did you not claim to be a man of honor? We agreed to duel to the disarming—”
“That was your suggestion,” interrupted Reddington. “His Grace decided Crump shall fight to the second disarming.”
“The second…Obviouslywe meant the first disarming,” Stephen exclaimed in exasperation.
“Then you should have said so,” Reddington replied, unimpressed.
“Who the devil ever heard of—”
Elizabeth held up her free hand to shush Stephen. Crump had crouched into fighting position, and there was no time to waste on words of outrage that would wash off Reddington like rain.
A man of honor? More like a fairy-tale trickster. If Reddington kept his word, it would be on technicalities. If they did sit down for a negotiation, Elizabeth would have to take uncommon care with her phrasing if she wished to come out ahead.
“All right, Your Grace,” she said carefully, measuring each syllable. Such caution was foreign to her. Usually she spoke without thinking and worried about the consequences later. This new twist could prove more dangerous than the armed giant before her. “To the second disarming. But after I do so, we shall have a full week’s cease fire before reconvening for a calm, good-faith conversa—”
Crump charged at her.
She leapt from his path just in time, flashing out with her sword tobend his blade—and his wrist—backward. The sword shot from his grasp as Crump stumbled forward out of balance.
Elizabeth landed in a light crouch, her own sword holding fast in her hand.
All right, she landed in a mostly light crouch. A somewhat light crouch. A much-heavier-than-usual crouch, in which one hip was stiffer than the other. Her knee wobbled with warning.
“Not now,” she muttered to her flaring joints. “This isnotthe time.”
The other knee gave a twinge of its own. If she held this crouch much longer, her legs would collapse out from under her.
Never show weakness.
“It’s over,” Stephen shouted. “Elizabeth bested you twice!”
Crump scooped up his sword with obvious fury. He spun to face her, then charged forward with a roar.
This time, he got her.
Not with his blade—that would require competent swordsmanship—but with a full-body tackle, like a raging bull taking down a bunny rabbit.
