Riley snorted. “Longswords?” he stated in disbelief. “I know the Order never got past their medieval glory days, but still. Are we back in the Dark Ages? Why don’t you guys just mount a horse and charge each other with lances?”
Both men ignored the rogue, though the man called Martin gave him a black look, obviously not pleased with being so close to his ancient enemy. “Trial by Combat is one of the ancient rites of St. George,” the Patriarch told Garret. “Therefore, we will fight as the knights did before us, long ago. No guns, no modern tricks. This shall be between two warriors in the eyes of God.” He gestured to the sword. “Take your weapon, Sebastian. And don’t worry about balance, or inferiority, or keenness. It is a perfectly efficient blade. I sharpened it myself.”
Garret reached out and took the offered sword, then drew it from its sheath. Bared to the light, it glimmered coldly, a simple-looking weapon without color or adornment. Not as fine as the Patriarch’s blade, I noticed, but I guessed a sword didn’t have to look pretty. It just had to kill.
“We’ll begin momentarily,” Martin said, looking at Garret as he stepped back. “I suggest you use that time to prepare yourself. Pray, settle any final accounts and say your last goodbyes. The duel starts in five minutes.”
Garret nodded. We retreated until we were about fifty feet away, well out of earshot, before Riley let out a breath and shook his head. “Well, isn’t he a charming bastard,” he muttered with a quick glare back at the Patriarch. “You sure you got this, St. George?”
“I don’t know.” Garret looked at the sword in his hand. “We’ve trained with knives and blades in the Order, though not as extensively as everything else. The Patriarch, though...it’s said that he collects swords and medieval weapons. I have no idea if he knows how to use them.” He, too, glanced at the men behind us, silhouetted against the stark white of the flats. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”
“Yeah, well, try not to get yourself killed, Sebastian.” Riley’s voice was begrudgingly concerned. “Flipping the Order off is a lot easier when you’re around.”
“Thanks,” Garret said drily.
“No problem. Although, if you do get splattered into eighteen parts, that will make certain things easier for me, as well.” Riley gave a slightly evil, almost triumphant grin, and his eyes glittered in the dim light. “So remember that, human, because I plan to be around for a long time. I’m not going anywhere.”
I scowled at the rogue, but Garret gave him a wary, almost puzzled look. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make certain I win,” he said.
“Perish the thought, St. George,” Riley said breezily. “This is a win-win situation for me. You kill the Patriarch and deal a devastating blow to the Order, awesome. You get yourself killed, the Order is still in chaos over the scandal, and I can use the confusion to make sure my underground is safe from both them and Talon. No more human, no more agonizing. Win-win.”
“Riley,” I growled, and the rogue gave me the most unapologetic, shit-eating grin I’d ever seen. He was, I thought in dismay, completely confident about his earlier declaration. I didn’t know whether to feel angry, relieved or terrified.
“Sebastian!” the Patriarch called before either of us could respond. He had walked to the center of the field and was standing tall with his sword held at his side. “Two minutes, traitor!” he warned, as my heart jumped up and lodged in my throat. “Two minutes until God’s judgment is upon us. I have made my peace with the Almighty. Have you?”
Garret looked at me. In the shadows of his gaze I saw longing and determination, and something so strong it made my stomach dance. I knew Riley was watching, but I didn’t care. This was a fight to the death.
Stepping forward, I grabbed the front of his shirt, leaned up and kissed him. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, crushing me to his body. I heard Riley snort and turn away, and then I forgot about him, Talon, the Patriarch, everyone. I was only aware of this spot, this moment in time and the human in my arms.
“You’ll win,” I whispered as we drew back. “If there is a just God, He won’t let you lose, not with what we’re trying to do. But you don’t need His help, Garret. You’ve got this. You’re going to beat the Patriarch, and St. George will see him for what he really is. And then we can finally put this whole stupid mess behind us.” He blinked, and I gave a wobbly smile. “Until the next catastrophe, anyway.”
Garret pressed his forehead to mine. “I love you, Ember,” he whispered, making my insides knot. “I never...thought I could feel this way, especially for a dragon. But, if this is the last time we’re together, I want you to know. Nothing has changed since Vegas. Since Crescent Beach, really. You’re still the most important thing that’s ever happened to me, and if I die here trying to protect your kind from St. George, I have no regrets.”