“Garret...”
“Don’t say anything,” he murmured, smiling a little as he pulled back. “It sounds like a goodbye, and I still need something to look forward to. To help me win. Just be waiting for me when I get back.”
“I will.”
He brushed a thumb across my cheek, turned and walked to the center of the ring, where the Patriarch waited in the bloody red light of the rising sun.
GARRET
I hadn’t been entirely truthful.
When Riley asked me if I could handle this, I’d sidestepped the question. I’d told him I didn’t know if the Patriarch could fight. That was a lie. Not only did the Patriarch collect swords and ancient weapons, he trained with them extensively. When he invoked the right of Trial by Combat, it wasn’t the desperate, last-minute ploy of a man with nothing to lose. It was a strategic gamble that would give him all the advantages. I knew little of swordplay; we’d trained with blades in the Order, but it was only a small part of our education, being seen as mostly impractical and taught more for the sake of tradition than for actual use. The Patriarch probably had this plan in reserve all along, knowing that someday he might have to use it. I knew this wouldn’t be an easy fight. I wasn’t even certain that I could win.
But I couldn’t concede. The Patriarch held the advantage in this duel, but there were too many counting on me to fail now. Including a certain fiery dragon girl who would be waiting for me when this was over. She was the reason I was doing this, the reason my life had changed. If I died here trying to change the Order, if even a few in St. George began to question things, it would be worth it.
In the center of the imaginary circle, the Patriarch waited for me, a bright, motionless statue in white and red. Martin stood to one side like a referee, facing us both, his dark figure silhouetted against the pale ground. There was no breeze, no breath of air that stirred the flats, no sound except my footsteps crunching over the salt. I halted ten feet from where my opponent stood, and for a moment, absolute silence descended over the world.
The Patriarch’s cold blue eyes met mine over the arena. “Blasphemer,” he said softly, the whisper full of horrified loathing, perfectly clear in the complete stillness. “Demon lover. You’re enslaved to the she-devil, aren’t you, Sebastian? Your soul is tainted beyond redemption. I don’t know whether to hate you or pity you. But don’t worry.” He raised his sword very slightly, letting the light dance along the razor surface. “I’ll set you free.”
I almost smiled. The Patriarch’s words meant nothing to me. Perhaps a few months ago, when I’d first realized I might be falling for the creature that was supposed to be my enemy, perhaps then I would have cared. But it was far too late now. I’d accepted the truth—I was in love with a dragon—and I wasn’t ashamed.
“You both know the conditions.” Gabriel Martin’s firm, quiet voice carried over the flats. “The duel will continue until one of you concedes or is killed. There will be no interference or intervention, and no weapons except the ones you carry now. Breaching any of these rules means that you forfeit the duel. Do you both understand and accept these terms?”
“Yes,” I answered, while the Patriarch simply nodded.
“Very well. The duel will start at twenty feet. When I give the signal, you will begin.”
Gripping my sword, I retreated the specified length and turned as the Patriarch did the same. I could feel Ember’s and Riley’s stares at my back, and saw Tristan several yards away, watching with his arms crossed and a grim look on his face. Martin raised his hand, paused a moment, then clenched his fist and stepped back, getting out of the way. The duel for my life, Tristan’s life and the lives of all the dragons I’d sworn to protect had officially begun.
The Patriarch sauntered forward, confident and self-assured, the blade still held at his side. But he moved with a lethal grace I’d seen all too often, in both enemies and friends. There was no question that he knew how to fight, and fight well. Raising my sword, I stepped forward to meet him.
We circled each other a moment, looking for openings, probing defenses and weaknesses. Our feet crushed salt beneath them, the noise rippling over the absolute silence as we circled warily, just studying our opponent. The Patriarch was taller, stronger and had a longer reach than me. I’d have to get well inside his guard to land a blow, while he could keep me at a distance.
“How does it feel, Sebastian?” The Patriarch’s voice was barely audible, meant only for my ears. “To be completely enslaved to the lizards? To know your soul is damned, but there is nothing you can do about it?”