Page 138 of Shadows and Roses

To be honest, she felt fine too. Sword fighting wasn’t quite the entanglement she wanted, but he seemed insistent.

She sighed dramatically. "Alright, if you need me to put you in your place again, I'll oblige."

A flicker passed through his eyes but he bowed again and it was gone. "My lady." He extended a hand to help her stand. On the way out the door, Damon retrieved his sword from the guards.

"Live blades?" She raised an eyebrow.

He buckled the weapon to his waist. "Like the first time. Humor me, my lady?"

Perhaps she'd think better of it without the wine in her blood, but now she only nodded magnanimously. "Let me find my sword… ah, there it is.” Her fingers fumbled slightly. She stretched her wrist and shrugged. Once she warmed up, the bit of alcohol would be unnoticeable.

They took a few steps into the hall before Damon turned to address the guard trailing behind them. "Some privacy, if you please. I'd like no witnesses to myhumiliation this time, and I'm sure our dear Queen wouldn't want it known if she were beaten."

The guard frowned. "Captain Jerome—"

She brushed a hand through the air. "It’s fine. If I can’t fight circles around this peasant while a bit tipsy, my mother will rise from the grave and beat me herself." Jerome wouldn’t have been convinced to leave her, but he’d pulled his bad shoulder in practice earlier today. Octavius had warned him not to push himself, but did the captain ever listen?

Bowing his head didn’t hide the guard’s amused smile. He walked back to his post beside her door.

Damon flashed her a bright, slightly rosy smile. He really looked like he’d barely drunk anything at all.

The practice circles were empty this time of night—most places were, except where the nobles took their pleasures. She rejected that dark thought with relative ease—Damon was positively jolly now. He sounded excited. She felt a little bad for him and considered letting him win, for his pride.

"Ready?" He grinned.

The blades seemed shiny. She blinked to remove the odd gleam, without success. Perhaps it was the flicker of the torches, or she was more inebriated than she thought. Still, she twirled the blade.

"At your pleasure, my lord," she teased.

Swords clashed, steel ringing. He had improved. And she was just slightly off balance. Regardless, she could make her loss look good.

Still mulling over the idea, she stumbled but managed to parry. Maybe the wine truly was affecting her too much. She stepped back and shook her head, opening her mouth to call it a night.

He spoke first.

"It's you who needs to be put in your place."

She frowned at his strange, flat tone and his thin, tightly pressed lips. What was he playing at?

He struck, faster than before. His attacks were more certain now, more aggressive.

At her next fumbled parry, she said, "Damon, wait—"

His smile was replaced by an ugly twist of his lips. That slice almost reached her arm, her parry unintentionally slow. She retreated again. She was breathing too quickly, her heart beating faster than it should, her muscles already tiring. The wine shouldn’t be affecting her this much.

Damon chased her, not letting her rest. He spoke with every strike that she could barely match.

"At first, I thought you and I were playing the same game. It took me a while to realize you actuallycare. Insanity. How you survived this long as a so-called ‘Dark Queen’ is impressive, I'll admit."

"What are you—" She stumbled again, awkwardly deflecting his attacks. Talking and thinking at the same time was too distracting. This was not just wine affecting her.

"How long did you think you could keep it up? Pretending to be something you're not?"

She blinked, shaking her head. His words were as confusing as her blurry eyes. He’d drugged her. That was the only explanation.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "No more pretending after today. You'll be a good little bitch when I'm done with you."

She slid back, his blade passing too close to her face. Whatever cocktail of drugs he'd fed her was rapidly increasing its effect. Blurry eyes were the least of her problems—she could fight nearly as well blind. But it was affecting her balance, slowing her reflexes, muddling her thoughts. Soon, she would hardly beable to stand, much less fight.

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