Page 181 of Dukes Are Forever
"And so it ends," he replied, sliding the rapier at his side free of its sheath with a steely rasp.
"You have been a thorn in my side for far too many years." Balfour drew his sword also. "I should have ended you the day I shot Catherine."
"Then why didn't you?" He circled Balfour, knees flexing as he watched for the first sign of a lunge.
"Because you were a pup. You'd been beaten, you just didn't know it. Power isn't about those you crush beneath your heel. It's about those you didn't crush when you could have."
"A mistake on your behalf," he said coldly. "I am very, very good at surviving. You underestimated me then, and you underestimate me now."
"I'll grant you this," Balfour conceded, "I did not expect the ruse with the queen. I didn't realize you'd be cold enough to set your own wife as bait in a trap for me."
Malloryn breathed a laugh. "Then you don't know Adele. It wasn't my plan."
"Ah."
"You know me too well. As I know you. But you didn't account for her."
"I didn't think you'd ever be able to cede control to those who surrounded you. I wouldn't have."
"But I'm not you."
Another smile. "You're more like me than you care to think. Even if you survive—even if you beat me here—you'll never escape me. I molded you into the man you are. In a way, you're the heir I never had."
The words tasted like bile in Malloryn's mouth. "I am nothing like you. Maybe I could have been, but I have something you've never had. I have people that love me and keep me human. And Christ"—he shook his head with a breathless laugh—"they're infuriating and drive me insane, and disobey me, and...." He stared at Balfour as he realized the truth. "And yet, they risked their lives to come rescue me in Russia. They've risked their lives to help bring you down. And they're the reason I will win.
"I'm nothing like you, Balfour. You've never seen the value in the people who serve you. You've never put their lives first, you've never cared. They've always been tools for you to use." He stepped forward, the tip of the sword in his hand rising. "All I ever wanted was to protect those I loved from you and your machinations."
Balfour stepped back into a duelist's stance.
"And so it comes to this, after all these years...." Balfour gestured with his sword, a faint smile on his thin lips. "Why don't we finish it?"
Smoke clung to the ceiling, pouring through the open hole where the glass ceiling had been. "Neither of us is getting out of here."
"Then we die together."
Balfour suddenly lunged forward.
Steel clashed on steel.
They'd only ever dueled twice.
The first had been a foolish clash when he'd been barely a man and Balfour had years of experience with a sword. All he'd wanted to do was avenge Catherine's death, but Balfour hadn't even had the decency to kill him. No. He'd earned a thrashing then—an abject exercise in humility—but he wasn't that young man anymore.
He'd hired the finest sword masters. Spent hours perfecting his form.
Learned hand-to-hand combat. Pugilism. Batitsu.
Every hour he'd ever spent in the ring had been aimed at this moment.
The second time had been a brief skirmish as the revolution raged against him and he'd cut Balfour's throat in a moment of distraction.
Once again Balfour had the advantage, now that he'd metamorphosed into adhampir. But Malloryn had spent months testing his reflexes against both Obsidian and Byrnes. He was as prepared as he was ever going to be.
They drove together, steel ringing on steel. Firelight flashed off both blades like whips of lightning as they riposted and lunged, working through each other's defenses.
Balfour's face showed strain when they broke apart.
"You've spent too many years pulling puppet strings," Malloryn warned him. Whipping past Balfour in a lunge that caught the other off guard, he slashed his knife across the bastard's ribs and spun to face him.
