Brandt knew the question might come and he was prepared. At least, he thought he was until visions of a beautiful blond daughter with Ellowyn’s features flashed before his eyes. He already knew he would love her more than anything on earth. If a man absconded with her, he knew exactly what he would do– he would kill him. After a moment, he cleared his throat softly and averted his gaze.
“I would do what you are doing,” he said quietly. “I would want her back.”
“Would you want to kill him?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because she would be my daughter. I would kill any man who laid a hand on her.”
Deston sighed faintly. He suddenly looked very old, and extraordinarily weary. The anger had eased but the fight was still there.
“I want her back,” he finally said.
“You cannot have her. She is my wife.”
“Then I demand satisfaction.”
“Name it.”
“You and I will battle to the death at dawn. Just you and me, de Russe, the armies will stand down. This is between you and me, and no other.”
Brandt looked at the man as if he were mad. “Deston, I cannot fight you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I will win. I cannot kill you.”
“Then I will killyou.”
Brandt shut his mouth, eyeing the man a moment. “Are you truly serious about this?”
“I am.”
“Ellowyn will not be happy about this. She will be the one ultimately affected by your death.”
“It could be your death.”
“Would you hurt her so?”
“She is worth fighting for and, if necessary, dying for. She is my daughter. I demand satisfaction for what you have taken from me. If I win, she will come back to Erith and if you win, well… all I ask is that you return me home. I would be buried next to my father.”
Brandt understood him completely, mostly because if Ellowyn had been his daughter, he would do the same thing. He began to feel sick in the pit of his stomach, knowing how Ellowyn would react to all of this. This was going to tear her apart, a battle between the two men she loved best in the world. He couldn’t even think of himself at the moment. All he could think of was her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked hoarsely.
Deston’s jaw was set, his mouth a firm line. But his lips were trembling. “Aye.”
Brandt’s jaw ticked. There was nothing more he could say. The man had a right to his own sense of satisfaction. He was already devastated for Ellowyn at what would surely be the outcome.
“Very well,” he agreed. “If that is your wish. I will meet you at dawn.”
Without another word, Deston turned and faded off into the darkness, his soldiers closing in around him as they headed off towards their encampment in the distance. Brandt just stoodthere, watching them go, until they faded from sight. Then, he turned to the men surrounding him.
Dylan, Brennan, Magnus and Stefan were all looking at him with varied degrees of seriousness. They had heard the challenge. Already, they knew the outcome. Dylan locked eyes with Brandt.
“If you kill him, she will hate you,” Dylan muttered what they were all thinking. “If he kills you, she returns to Erith. Either way, you lose your wife. This is a battle you cannot win.”
