He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing limp strands back into a neater style. “Well, that wasn’t so bad. You did an excellent job, Maximus.” He patted the larger man’s shoulder fondly. “Never would have pegged you for an actor. Could almost hear real regret in your voice.”
Angelica Calamitous had been waiting for this moment since their second quest began. Before that, if she was honest. From the first time she’d met him, she wanted to prove that her skills extended beyond ‘feminine wiles.’
Once she was far enough away from Fitz and Maximus to not give away their location, she walked straight down the road, toward the front entrance of The Lord of Grimnight’s lair. The trees had been cleared along the former road, creating a straight path between her and her target. “Captain Fyodor!” she shouted, drawing as much attention as possible.
The minions standing guard outside the front door exchanged wary looks, then one of them slipped inside. Another pair of minions on a patrolnearby crept out from between two storefronts. She registered the clean facades and replaced windows with a little, confused frown. She’d assumed the Lord of Grimnight liked the aesthetic of the broken buildings, trophies of his triumph after conquering the city. Why had he begun renovations this time?
None of the minions attacked her, though they approached slowly, creating a loose circle around her, their weapons at the ready. There was no turning back now. To escape, she’d have to fight her way out.
Her opponent walked out the front door. Seven feet tall and as broad as an ox, the orc had olive green skin, a strong jaw, and bold lips tilted in a confident smile. His tusks gleamed, freshly polished. Over his shoulder he carried an enormous club like it weighed nothing. Angelica pictured him tossing her over his shoulder, one large hand firmly grasping her bottom to keep her in place.
When he saw who had called for him, a dark brow rose in challenge. “Isn’t this a pretty sight. I assume you’re one of the royal champions?” Magic and time wiped all recognition from his face. He stared at her like she was a stranger.
Angelica straightened and lifted her chin, lowering her eyelashes to give the impression she was looking down on him despite the advantages of his height. “I am Princess Angelica Calamitous. I’ve come to defeat the Lord of Grimnight, but first I want to defeat his greatest warrior. Prove that I’m a threat he never should have underestimated.”
“And you asked for me by name,” Fyodor said, cocking his head to the side. His black eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in her rapier—miniscule next to his chosen weapon—and the dagger at her hip. “Let’s see how much good that does you.”
She tensed, waiting for him to charge her with his oversized club. One strike from it would break bones or knock her unconscious. She’d have to focus on dodging.
But he dropped the club to his side and passed it to another minion, who handed him a slim box. He flipped the lid open and pulled out a silver rapier, twisting it so the light glimmered along the blade. “Don’t get much use out of this one, but it’s not a fair challenge if I snap your pretty little toothpick with one hit.” He swished the rapier through the air with a soft whoosh and nodded in satisfaction.
“You’ll fight me fairly?” she asked, warmth spreading through her chest.
He laughed, the sound a deep rumble. “If I wanted to cheat you, princess, I wouldn’t bother entertaining this duel. The minions surrounding you could overpower you in the blink of an eye. The lord informed us of your pride and specifically asked us to squash it, so you’ll be a little humbler when we drag you before him.”
She sneered. “Such loyalty for a man who cares nothing for you.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Her brow furrowed, wondering which part of the statement he denied.
“Commoner’s rules?” Fyodor asked, holding his blade at the ready.
She nodded once. Orcs had their own sets of rules for challenges and duels, but the novels she’d read barely referenced them, focusing more on … other aspects of the story.
“Let’s discuss stakes. If you win, I’ll escort you safely to the lord myself. However, ifIwin.” He ended the sentence with a grin.
“You’ll what? Capture me? Take me to the dungeon?” she asked, breathless from the prospect of recreating their first meeting.
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Then he lunged, blade aimed for her heart.
It’d been a long time since Angelica had participated in a proper duel, especially since she’d lived the same two weeks on repeat. Their blades connected and the singing in her ears quickened her heartbeat.
The minions surrounding them created a barrier and delineated the circumference of their arena. They refused to shift no matter how close one of the swordfighters came, standing tall and proud as they watched their leader.
Roots had pushed up the cobblestones, giving them a rough terrain for their dance. Angelica had to focus more on her footing than she preferred to avoid spraining an ankle or tripping straight into Fyodor’s blade. Commoner’s rules meant they fought for points, not to the death, but they weren’t using blunted swords. A line of heat bled over Angelica’s shoulder, but she’d opened a matching one across Fyodor’s thigh.
For a man so large, he was agile, but his swordplay was rusty. He missed several obvious openings and left more of his own. Several times he raised the sword as if to hack her in half, a move so wide and easy to dodge that she almost laughed at him.
As her energy waned, she finally saw the perfect opportunity and lunged forward. The point of her sword touched the spot right over his heart before she withdrew. She kept her sword raised, in case he didn’t acknowledge the hit in time, and braced for anger.
Fyodor stopped his blade a few inches from hers and stepped back, looking down at his chest. A small dot of blood bloomed over his white shirt, unfurling like the petals of a flower. “Damn,” he muttered, “Right to the heart.”
“Do you concede?”
He nodded once. “I do. I’ll take you straight to his lordship.” He gestured to the minion who’d brought him the box and carefully put the blade away.
Angelica’s eyes locked on his strong hands gently cradling the delicate sword. “What would you have asked for?”
