Page 127 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
Delilah hissed at the imp approaching her. It paused for a second, then puffed out its cheeks to try to appear bigger and braver. She swatted at it, sending it tumbling through the air.
“This isn’t fair!” it complained. “You’re bigger than me!”
Maximus snatched one of the imps from the air and chucked it at Wilde. It squealed in fright and covered its eyes as it braced for impact.
Instead of dodging, Wilde caught the imp and gently cradled it in his arms before releasing it. “Careful now. You know better than to go near the throne.”
One of the imps snatched Fitz’s glasses off his face, leaving him blind again. “Give those back!” he shouted, chasing the imp. His fingers repeatedly brushed the imp’s barbed tail, its foot, but never closed on anything solid.
“Nyah, nyah, I got your glasses!” the imp said in a sing-song voice as it circled Fitz’s head.
His hand finally closed on its tail. As he started to yank it down, something else yanked onhim. With a choked yelp, he and the imp both crashed to the floor. He snatched his glasses up and shoved them crookedly onto his face. Once he could see again, he twisted around to discover that one of the roots had ensnared his ankle. It slowly but steadily dragged him toward the blood thirsty throne. “Someone! Help!”
Maximus grabbed his hand, using all his strength to stop Fitz’s progress. Two imps pummeled his back and his head, trying to force him to let go.
Behind them, Angelica’s energy began to flag. She was used to duels, which had a time limit and rules about the number of hits each opponent could land for a winner to be declared. She’d never been in a fight that had lasted this long. Every time the Lord of Grimnight’s heavy shadow sword clashed with hers, pain throbbed from her hand to her shoulder, until everything went numb. Cuts covered her arms and legs, staining her pretty dress red.
The lord aimed for her torso, trying to slice her in half.
She barely blocked the strike. The harsh impact sent her stumbling to the side. She fell to one knee and gasped from the shock of new pain.
The black blade swung toward her neck.
Angelica tried to lift her arm, but it remained limply at her side. She closed her eyes, waiting for the fatal blow.
Instead, she heard a clang of metal against metal, sword against sword.
Had Fyodor stepped in to help her? Had her ‘feminine wiles’ really swayed him that much? She struggled to smile, to show him how much she appreciated the risk he took for her. But when she opened her eyes and lifted her head, another man stoodbeside her.
Light glimmered along his red hair and the silver sword he’d raised against his own father. Trey’s jaw was clenched in determination, but his eyes were red with sorrow.
The Lord of Grimnight stared at him in shock. Then the shadows fell across his cherubic face, finally making him look like an evil mage. “My own son would stand against me?”
Trey shifted in front of Angelica, making a silent choice to protect her.
“Then you can share their fate.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I had three fathers. The first sent me on a mission to destroy the prosperous five kingdoms. The second accepted me into his life with only a letter as an explanation. But the last, the one I had the least connection to but somehow took after the most, had hired every tutor in the kingdom to prepare me for this fight.
“We don’t have to fight.” I crossed my short swords in an X to block the old man’s downward strike.
His lips curled in a sneer. “And you didn’t have to betray me!”
When he tried to pull back, I tightened the X. His eyes widened as he found his sword caught between mine. I twisted to the side, yanking the blade out of his hands. It skidded across the polished floor before disappearing in a whiff of shadow.
A second later, the sword appeared in his hand again and he thrust it toward my stomach. I spun out of the way and blocked the blade with one of my own, pushing it away from me. “What did you expect?”
“I expected you to obey your father! Yourrealfather! Not those bumbling fools who have stolen your loyalty from me!” Each sentence was punctuated with an exclamation point and another furious attack.
I dodged and parried as best as I could, but it was difficult fighting an opponent who wanted me dead when I just wanted to talk. “Myrealfather? For most of my life, you’ve been a reflection in the mirror. You don’t feelrealto me.”
Hot pain sliced across my side when I was a second too slow. Blood seeped from the wound, sticking my shirt to my skin and creating a slicktrail across the floor. “Doesthatfeel real?” He started to swing again but suddenly froze. The sound of fighting instantly stopped, transforming into an eerie silence. Even the air around us stilled.
An arm wrapped around my waist and yanked me backwards against a solid chest. My breath hitched as I recognized Wilde’s steady presence behind me. Defending me, protecting me, standing with me rather than his master.
Everything that had stopped started all at once. The sword came down on empty air. The roar of the fighting returned, making me dizzy with the sudden noise. The air surged back into my lungs in a harsh gasp.
