Darkness Embraced (9 page)

Vasco led me dumbly before her. He went to his knees and I followed.

“Padrona,” he said in his court voice, a voice that was at once charming and untouchably cold. “I bring forth your scion, Epiphany.”

“Vasco, rise and take your place,” Renata said smoothly.

Vasco rose and only then did I take my hand from his arm. I forced myself to stare at the stone floor. If I looked at him I knew my expression would betray how I felt. I was afraid. I was nervous. I hated court politics, but if there was one thing I knew to be true, it was that you did not show weakness to those that would delight in exploiting it.

I sensed Vasco take his seat. It left me feeling suddenly and undeniably very alone. I raised my head enough to look at Renata.

A woman laughed and every hair on my arms stood on end. I didn’t want to look at her, didn’t want to see the face that went with that unmistakable laugh.

I turned and met Lucrezia’s wild eyes, eyes that were the color of fresh spring grass. The bodice that cinched at her waist was a few shades darker. She smiled with lips that were as red as her flaming locks. “Greetings, Epiphany.”

I forced myself to go completely still. I would not give her the benefit of a reaction.

“No hello?” Her red brows arched high. The look she gave me was predatory and amused.

I opened my mouth to follow the protocol of court etiquette when Renata’s voice flowed like something lethal into the silence. “Lucrezia.”

Lucrezia mouthed something. I think it was, “Good luck.”

“Epiphany.” I must’ve been staring at her because Renata’s voice called me out of my thoughts.

I bowed my head. “Yes, my lady?”

“Do you wish to face the challenges?”

“Yes.”

“Do you accept the challenge of a duel from the Elder Gaspare?”

“I do.”

“Rise and choose your sword.”

Dominique was suddenly by my side. He offered his hand to me, to help me stand, but I did not take it. Again, it would be another sign of weakness for the others to exploit. He went to the far wall opposite the thrones, flicking back a tapestry that bore a crest of a griffin on it. There were swords, so many of them. Broadsword, short swords, and twin daggers all gleamed in the torchlight like a deadly bounty. I didn’t own a sword, and thus, I was forced to pick one.

I didn’t want to.

I didn’t want to handle a sword that had been handled before. I went to the wall, trailing the tips of my fingers over the blade of one of the longer swords. The swords had been taken care of, oiled and cleaned. I could smell the faint scent of the oil that had been used on them and knew that they had been cleansed very recently, probably in preparation for the challenge, but one thing they retained were memories.

My fingers faltered as a brief image of masculine hands gripped the pommel. The pommel sported the design of an eagle. I drew the breath in through my nose and moved to the next sword.

Cleansed or no, my powers of empathy were picking up on psychic impressions, memories that had been left behind that no cloth could wipe away. The swords seemed to whisper their histories to me. I knew Lucrezia’s blade before my fingers even brushed the polished steel. It was a modest blade, medium length, with thin crescent guards. It reeked of blood and violence, of death and decay. I shuddered, drawing my hand away. I didn’t want those memories.

It was a shorter blade that caught my attention. Despite its small size, it was the most uniquely crafted blade of the lot. Etched into the shining steel were patterns of spiraling vines, and curled around the pommel was a metallic fox, sleek and sly. I closed my eyes, touching the fox with tentative fingers, feeling its metallic body.

Empty. It was the first sword that was empty of memories. It would do.

Somewhere in the back of my mind were Vasco’s memories, but I kept them pushed back, allowing what knowledge I needed to handle a sword to come through naturally. I took the sword down from the prongs that held it, wrapping my hand around the pommel.

“Is it done?” Renata asked.

Dominique nodded beside me. “It is.”

“Vasco,” she said.

I turned to watch as Vasco crossed the open area. He smiled faintly, but instead of coming to me, he turned and drew his sword. He lowered his blade, tracing an invisible circle in the middle of the room. The double doors clanged opened as a tall figure entered. His black hair was pulled back tight at the nape of his neck. I met his light brown gaze.

He strode into the room like it was his party, full of an arrogance that was not unknown to our kind. It had to be Gaspare. I’d seen him before, but never spoken with him. He wore a dark purple jacket with black lace at the throat. His hand lifted, fingers stroking the little black beard hanging from his chin. “A slip of a girl,” he said, talking to himself. I ignored the comment.

“Inside the circle,” Vasco said, “both of you.”

“Gladly,” Gaspare said striding into the midst of the circle Vasco was creating. I wondered how Gaspare managed to walk in boots that were heeled and went up to his thighs. The fashion seemed a little silly for a duel.

He bowed to me as I cautiously made my way. “Poor child,” he said in heavily accented English. “Poor little rabbit in the wolf’s den.”

“We’ll see,” I said.

“Indeed!” His eyes lit with an inner flame. “We shall,” he said and I heard the sound of steel sliding from its sheath a second before he rushed me.

Gaspare was quick. He was almost as quick as Vasco, but I had Vasco’s memories. I whirled backward, keeping my body out of reach as I dodged the tip of Gaspare’s blade like it was second nature to me. I held the fox sword in both hands, driving it upward at an odd angle for defense. Gaspare’s blade met mine in a loud clash of steel. The impact shook my arms. He inclined from the waist up, forcing me to widen my stance as I tried to hold him at bay.

“Hmm,” he mused, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

In truth, neither was I.

Gaspare withdrew his sword in a move almost too quick to see. He tried to bring it down over my head. This time, I didn’t bother trying to block his blade. I dropped into a low crouch, placed my left hand flat on the stone floor, and tucked my head down. The blade cut the air where my head had been only moments before.

I reared up and kicked my right leg out in a sweeping motion.

My foot connected with the back of Gaspare’s left knee. He lost his balance and stumbled, but recovered quickly, springing from foot to foot like a jack-in-the box ready to pop.

He smiled beatifically. “Little one, little one, where do I go?”

I made no reply, instead, I watched him, trying to anticipate his next move.

“Remember,” he said as I dodged the thrust of his blade as it brushed past my cheek, “you can’t stay on the defensive forever. We are fighting ’til third blood.” He flashed fangs. “I get to bleed you twice before defeating you.”

I tried to anticipate his next move, ignoring the baiting remarks he cooed at me. Even with Vasco’s memories like a past life of experience in my skull, Gaspare was better than I was. How could it not be so when they were Vasco’s memories? Vasco was taller, longer of leg and of arm, and the memories I was using were of arms that had more reach.

I clutched the pommel tightly. The memories helped some, when Gaspare pressed me I knew instinctively where my sword needed to be, but I wasn’t confident going on the offensive. Gaspare showed me why when I tried to take advantage of his opening. His sword parried mine smoothly. I had to get past his guard, but couldn’t see how when he kept making me back-step into defense.

A spurt of warmth flickered between my palms.

The sword that had been empty of any memories or any remembrance of what it had been seemed to awaken in my hands. In the back of my mind I saw the image of a very large fox opening its maw in a yawn.

The fox’s brown eyes widened. It yelped,
UP!

My arms went up. The vibration of my blade meeting Gaspare’s sang through my body.

It was hard to focus. I tried to see Gaspare, but for a moment, all I could see was the sleek orange fox in my vision.

The fox gave me a considering look and if a fox could smile, that’s what it did, showing its sharpened little canines.

Epiphany.
It whispered through my mind in a gentle androgynous voice.

“How do you know my name?”

“What?” Gaspare asked, hesitating as we circled one another like caged tigers.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

Ye have but to think.
The fox eyed me curiously.
I know everyone that touches me.

Chills shot up and down my spine.

Whoops!
The fox gave a little yip of pain as I hissed through my teeth.

I touched the cut Gaspare had dealt me on my upper arm, fingers coming away with blood.

Gaspare grinned widely.

Bugger that!
the fox murmured, licking its injured shoulder.
Let go, will ye?
He eyed me.
Ye seem to have a problem.

What do you mean?

Give me control, my lady.

Why?

The fox sat up, and even sitting he was much taller than any fox I’d seen. His elongated ears swiveled forward.
Because, my lady. As ye can see I am a—

His ears flattened in concentration and the sword was suddenly pulling me with it. I followed the blade, trying to match its movement with some measure of grace.
As ye can see,
the fox growled as Gaspare charged me. The sword pulled me left, right, around, and down as the blade bit into Gaspare’s thigh. He screamed, but I ignored it, using my own strength to pull the blade out while I concentrated on the fox.

Well, bugger,
the fox said again
. We’ll talk later. All right?

Fine.

Good girl. Now!
The fox beamed
. Let’s play a little game of cat and mouse!

Before I could ask which role we were playing, the blade thrummed in my hands as we deflected yet another attempt on Gaspare’s behalf. I saw the fox in my
vision
as if he were curling over my body and taking control of my very being through the sword. No, not control…

Collaboration!
The fox yipped in happy delight. I lifted the blade parrying Gaspare’s much longer sword.

The fox smiled a wicked smile that I felt spread across my own lips.

Gaspare’s eyes showed a little too much white around the edges.

And then we went on the offensive. The fox was clever. So clever! He moved through my body like liquid honey, slow and steady, and then like water, quick and nimble. Gaspare sought my neck with the blade and I bowed my entire body back, springing up and driving the tip of the fox blade into his stomach.

Second blood!
The fox’s words echoed my thoughts, but he added, hastily,
One more drop to go!

It didn’t take long. We played cat and mouse, falling back, then suddenly going on the offensive when Gaspare least expected it. We allowed him to wear himself out, and I found myself so in tune with the fox that I completely forgot about Vasco’s memories.

Gaspare gave an inhuman growl of frustration and tried to drive the point of his blade into my face. With the fox’s aid, I saw the opening. We skipped to the side on the tips of our toes. I stopped the flat part of the blade with an open palm, the fox blade steadily balanced in my right hand, my hand went back, and the sword sang forward and into Gaspare’s stomach.

I rode the sword through his body, until I felt the tip of the blade hit the stone floor.

An echo of power dripped into my words as the fox and I hissed,
“Third blood!”

I jerked the blade free and Gaspare fell over, clutching the wound. Already, his body struggled to heal it.

Renata’s voice carried throughout the room. “Epiphany has drawn third blood. Are all in agreement that she is the winner of this duel?” She glanced down the row of Elders and the look on her face challenged them to defy her.

They didn’t.

Slowly, fists went out and thumbs went up.

Lucrezia eyed me across the distance. She held her thumb up, in agreement with the entire party.

The wound on my shoulder had already healed. Unfortunately, the sleeve of my dress hadn’t and blood was still trickling down my arm. Vasco smiled brightly and then sent a questioning look at Renata. She inclined her head. He rose and as he had earlier, traced his sword around the circle Gaspare and I had fought in, this time, counter-clockwise.

Gaspare was getting to his feet, but the sour expression on his face was all for me. “I do not know how you did it,” he whispered, “but the next battle we fight, I assure you, little rabbit, you will not be so lucky.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said softly, holding the sword against my skirts with the blade pointing down. A droplet of blood fell and hit the stone floor.

Gaspare stood with an effort, wiping his blade on the trim of his jacket.