A cry echoed down the stone hall, cut abruptly short.
Florian quickened his pace, heart racing.
He heard sound of struggle growing louder, clearer, as he approached a closed door. As he shouldered it open, the sound of a man’s cry of pain reached his ears.
Florian’s blood ran cold as he witnessed the golden haired man knock Yvette to the ground, favoring his bleeding fingers. It was immediately clear what had happened. He had tried to cover her mouth, and she’d bitten him.
He was so absorbed in his rage that he hadn’t even noticed Florian’s arrival. Yvette, however, caught sight of him as she picked herself up from the floor. She stilled as she met his gaze, her brown eyes wide and broken.
Florian quelled his first instincts, the urge that would have him wrap her up in his arms until she knew she was safe, that she would never have to be treated this way again. This wasn’t the time, perhaps it never would be. But for now at least, there was another matter to be dealt with.
“Victor, I presume?” Florian said, keeping his tone level even as disgust and rage boiled under his skin.
Victor whirled on him, taking his measure only for a moment before he snapped, cheeks flushed red with anger. “Leave us at once.”
“I don’t think I shall,” Florian said, striding in easily as if the room belonged to him.
Yvette vanished from her place on the floor, surprising them both.
Victor, to his credit, recovered first, growling in annoyance before turning back to Florian. “Who do you think you are?”
“Florian Crestwell,” he said with a mocking bow.
“Leave us,Florian Crestwell, or I-”
“Don’t be so tiresome as to threaten me,” Florian interrupted, drawing his rapier.
Victor straightened, eyes narrowing. “Let us settle this by steel then.” He drew the sword from his belt. “Stay close, pet. I would hate to have to find you again.”
“My, my, have I stumbled upon a lover’s quarrel?” Irritation rippled through him as the bastard’s portrait became clearer by the moment. Proud, possessive, and positively dripping with spite.
Victor glared at him. “No one asked for your intrusion.”
“You may consider making a friend of me. I might have some worthy advice, seeing as I’ve never had to threaten a woman to keep her in my bedroom.”
Victor’s rage cooled, settling into a hard mask over his features. He struck with a series of well practiced thrusts and feints. The lordling was trained, that was clear enough. Florian could see the hours of practice evident in his movements. But all those measured forms, without true experience, had made him terribly predictable.
Florian deflected every blow with ease, never taking the many openings to seek aggressions of his own. He was not sure if Yvette was still among them or if she had fled, but his intuition sensed her presence lingering, watching. He might as well give her a show. Barring an audience, witnessing Victor’s cool demeanor and confidence wane into frustrated exhaustion was satisfying unto itself. An unfamiliar sense of justice was quickly settling over him, the desire to tear this man down from his pedestal.
Soon enough, his opponent grew careless in his attempt to break through his defenses. Florian parried a blow, applying the subtle leverage necessary to take advantage of his shoddy footwork. Victor stumbled off balance, but Florian waited gamely for him to find his footing again.
“You’re toying with me,” Victor hissed, his pride more wounded than his body.
“I just want you to feel that you are doing well,” Florian said amicably. “Are you ready to surrender now?”
Victor huffed and straightened. “You fucked her, didn’t you?” His eyes ranged about the room, looking for some trace of her, though Florian knew that neither of them would find Yvette a moment before she wanted them to. “Tell me, pet, were you thinking about me when he was inside you?”
Florian advanced, his playfulness dissipating. He saw this wretch plainly. Victor fought with words, wielding humiliation and intimidation like knives. Two could play at that game. “Oh, my dear lordling, if she had spent one night in my bed, she would have forgotten your name.”
Victor charged, ego bruised and wits dulled. Florian disarmed him without breaking a sweat. His foot planted itself in Victor’s ribs and sent him tumbling hard to the ground. The tip of his sword hovered just beneath his chin before Victor could even pick himself off his noble ass.
His blue eyes were wide with shame and fury.
“You want her, is that it?” he spat. “Have her! Do you think I couldn’t do better? Just know she’s an ungrateful whore.”
“Oh, you worthless slime,” Florian snapped. “I am not here towinher. Though I feel you’ve done a remarkable job of losing her already. No, today I am the hand of Fate, deliverer of a humiliation that appears long overdue.”
Victor made his move, predictable to the last, as he lunged for his blade. Florian pressed his sword into his neck until he stilled. A thin trickle of blood emerged.
