Page 133 of Clash of Storms
The queen's eyes glittered. "The fight's not yours. Not yet."
"Look around you, Amadea." He gestured to the battle. "It's done. You're losing."
"Don't trust her," Árdís called.
"Never have."
The queen attacked.
His first parry was met with a whiplash disengagement, steel shrieking down steel. He bore Flemish steel, heavier and longer, but the difference in their fighting styles soon became apparent.
Amadea moved like water flowing down a hill, her wrists light and supple and her feet constantly shifting. On the outside, the advantage would look to be his; strong sweeping blows and steel with a good six inches of length on hers.
But he'd faced a Spanish man with a rapier once, and been taught a good lesson.
She couldn't meet the ferocity of his blows, so she didn't.
Sirius sounded her out, testing her defenses, and each time, she disengaged with a light flick of her wrist, waiting for her opening like a snake.
"You're good," he pointed out, feeling his chest start to burn as she kept him at bay.
"Quit playing with me," Amadea snarled, lunging forward.
Sirius turned his body to the side, tapping her rapier out of the way.
Despite the disparity in their heights, thedrekiqueen was fast and he knew she'd sparred with Stellan regularly. No trueZilittuwould ever be a weak opponent.
The queen spun to his blind side, silver winking in the sunlight. A lash of fire scored across his ribs and the only thing that saved him was years of training. He smashed his own sword down upon hers, following through with an elbow that slammed into her chin.
The pair of them broke apart, breathing hard, and the queen touched her bloodied nose.
She'd probably never been hit in her life.
He crouched low, gesturing her forward. "You're done, Amadea. You're nothing but a snake, and will reap what you've sown. To take and to hold means nothing, when all you've built is hatred. Not a singledrekiin this court stands at your side out of loyalty. All you've ever had is my father, and he is not long for this mortal world."
The queen hissed and hammered a rapid series of thrusts at him. He forced her past him, grabbing her arm and shoving her away.
She staggered back, her skirts hampering her.
Sirius launched into a ringing series of aggressive strokes, taking care not to overextend. He could see her eyes glittering watchfully, waiting for him to take that misstep. The tip of her blade scored along his forearm, but he slashed through her skirts in retaliation, and blood slicked the gold scales of her gown.
Back and forth, their feet churning up mud. Steel rang in the air, and he could hear the scream of someone dying nearby.
Soon his right side was covered in bloodied slashes.
But the queen was panting, and blood dripped in an inexorable tide down her thigh. He'd cut her deeper than she'd managed with him.
"Do you think my son will ever accept you at this court?" she rasped, her chest heaving as they broke apart again. "You're filth, Sirius. You call me poison? Well, you're tainted too. They'll never see anything more to you than your father's bloodlines. You don't belong here. You murdered their precious king. You'll never be welcome here."
It surprised him how much the thought drew blood. But he wasn't going to let her see that. "So be it. I don't need this court. All I need is Malin."
"Malin?" Understanding dawned. "Ah, the little drekling bitch my daughter favored. Is that why she survived your questioning?"
"The Goddess promised her to me long ago," he taunted. "She's the last person I could ever hurt. I only needed to deceive you and my father in order to get her safely out of here."
Amadea grew still. "Your true flame. How... quaint. A nothing. A nobody."
The growl curdled in his throat as he lashed out at her. "She is more than you could ever conceive of being. You're not fit to kiss the hem of her gown."
