When Elizabeth’s back hit the ground, every bone cried out in protest… and the sword handle slipped from her suddenly sweaty palm.
She plummeted to thirty percent. If she was lucky.
Crump sprang to his feet and beat his fists against his barrel chest. “You dropped your sword! I won!”
“You dropped yours, too,” Elizabeth groaned as she forced her flattened limbs into a crawling position. Make that twenty-five percent.
“Youdidn’t make me lose anything,” Crump said. “I let go of my weapon because I won.”
He scooped up his sword and swung it carelessly, pleased with himself.
She wiped her palms on her skirts, then wrapped her hand around her sword handle and hauled herself to her feet. Twenty percent.
“You didn’t win,” she spat. “Not only is this supposed to be aswordfight—”
“It’s not my fault if you can’t lose gracefully.”
“—you also insisted on ending the fight after theseconddisarming. Which I accomplished and you did not. The duel is over, Crump. You lost.”
Rather than admit defeat, the giant let out a deafening roar and charged at her all over again.
Elizabeth barely got out of the way in time. Her hip locked and her knees buckled and her sword arm thrust out toward his gracelessly in a last-ditch attempt to—
The blade flew from the giant’s hands for a third time. She followed through by slamming the hilt of her sword into Crump’s chest, causing him to flail backward.
Pain radiated throughout Elizabeth’s body at the impact. Somehow, she remained on her feet. Barely.
Nevershow weakness.
“There. That’s it,” she yelled out to the fallen Crump, gasping through the pain. “You lost!”
Red-faced, the giant rose, snatched up his weapon, and stalked away from her without a single polite syllable of goodbye.
It was a good thing. She was a woman teetering on unstable joints and grimacing with repressed agony. A puff of air could disarm her at this point.
She turned toward the castle and concentrated on keeping her feet moving.
“Get back here, young lady,” Reddington blared through his speaking trumpet. “You might have bested my soldier, but you shan’t best me!”
“Because we’re done,” she called without turning around. “As a man of honor,Your Grace, you must grant the promised seven days’ cease fire, followed by the agreed-upon peaceful negotiation. If you show your face beforehand, I shall interpret it as full capitulation to our complete ownership of this castle.”
As Reddington sputtered and shouted new threats behind her, Elizabeth lurched her way back into the castle out of sheer force of will. Reddington’s fury faded to nothing.
“He’s leaving!” she heard Stephen say as he intercepted her just inside the murder room. “You did it, Elizabeth. I’ve an entire crate of champagne we can celebrate with. I might even be able to find us a nice—”
She pushed past him, the muscle spasms in her lower back so intense that she could barely keep from vomiting.
“Elizabeth?” he said hesitantly.
“I’m fine,” she choked out without stopping.
She wasn’t fine. She was at fifteen percent and falling.
“Where are you go—”
She ignored him. All her focus was on putting one leg in front of the other, again and again, until she reached the blessed softness of her mattress.
The floor conspired against her. Every stone was lumpy, every surface too slippery. The stairs looked dark and infinite.
