I let him have the first blow. I came in high, my right hand up above my head, the tip of my rapier angled down over his shield while my left was already beginning the thrust that would sneak past his shield once he parried the first attack. Even if he got both of them, I could simply continue the right-hand thrust once the shield was out of the way. There’s a reason why people don’t go into battle with only a shield.
Kest was too fast for me, of course. He didn’t just parry the high attack but knocked my right rapier out of line, and without pausing for an instant he dealt with my left-hand thrust, not by deflecting it, but by allowing the first foot of the blade past, only to drive the edge of his shield down so hard and so fast that he shattered the blade, leaving me with just one rapier and one rather badly balanced dagger.
That would have been enough to knock sense into a smarter man, but Kest was taking no chances. Before I could get myself back into guard, he slammed his shield against the side of my face for the second time and I fell backwards again. Getting hit in the head twice within minutes is not especially good for concentration. When I regained my balance, I spat out blood on the floor.
‘You can’t beat me,’ Kest said. ‘Not today.’
I smiled. It was odd how life, once divorced from purpose, could become so much like a game. ‘Let’s find out, shall we?’
His eyes narrowed, trying to figure me out. ‘Even if you got by me, Trin’s guards would kill you before you got near her.’
‘Maybe, if she’d had a chance to get control of the room.’ I tilted my head towards Ossia’s guards. ‘But now all the other soldiers have had time to consider the future. They’ve heard all about Trin; they know there’s no pardon coming for them. She’ll have them executed – but not before she’s tortured them into giving up their loved ones so that she can have them killed too.’
‘Stop,’ Kest said. Of course he knew what I was doing. ‘You’re making things worse.’
That pulled an unexpected chuckle from somewhere deep in my belly. ‘Worse? You fucking fool, Aline is dead!’ I risked raising my broken rapier to point it in Trin’s direction. ‘The daughter of Duchess Patriana is going to take power. How much worse can it possibly get?’
I didn’t wait for an answer, but instead ran for him, switching up my guard so that my broken left rapier was high and my right was low. He knew I’d have to try for a long lunge with the right as the left was now too short to get past his shield. I feinted low, then high, then lunged for his left hip, but with the precision of a surgeon, he angled his shield so that my blade slid along its surface. I was too close to recover, and I could practically see the word ‘sorry’ forming on his lips as his arm came back to smash the flat of his shield into me a third time. The first two blows had been hard, but measured. This time he’d knock me unconscious to avoid having to kill me outright.
That was his mistake.
An opponent who won’t kill you limits his options: his strikes have to be precise, measured. Kest wouldn’t risk striking me with the edge of his shield, not when I was in so close – he’d end up caving in my skull. So it had to be the flat, which meant he needed more distance, but not so much that I could stab him with my rapier as he prepared his own blow. There wasn’t one in a thousand duellists who could do what Kest was planning – he could, of course, because he’s Kest. But all that careful timing meant that he’d missed seeing me flip my broken rapier so that I was holding it by the blade, and he didn’t see until it was too late that I’d brought it up under his shield and hooked the rim with the quillons, yanking it up high so that all of a sudden we were facing each other like two travellers huddling together under an umbrella against the rain. His eye caught mine, then looked down at the tip of my right rapier touching his throat.
‘Yield,’ I said.
I could see him working through the possibilities for escape faster than I could envision any counter-manoeuvres, but it didn’t matter. He knew I had the one advantage that he had given up from the start. I was willing to kill my best friend.
‘What’s happened to you?’ he asked, the words so quiet I didn’t know whether he’d spoken them aloud or I had simply read his lips. I’ve never seen such agony in a man’s face as I did then: Kest, who ignored pain and exhaustion like other men did a light breeze. Kest, who’d barely grunted when I’d severed his right hand from his arm to stop Shuran. Kest, who even now, even after what I’d done and was going to do, still loved me more than any brother could.
Had I a heart left to break, that would have done it, but my voice didn’t even quaver as I said, ‘They showed me how the world works.’
He nodded, as if somehow that answer made sense. I let my gaze move to Duchess Ossia. The horror of what she’d done was already wearing off and she was rising to her feet. She’d call her men to fight with me – some might refuse, of course; now that Filian was the sole heir, to kill him would be regicide, and everyone fears the curse that comes from spilling a King’s blood. It didn’t matter, though, because I didn’t need them to win, just to create enough chaos for me to finish what I’d started.
Without a word, Kest knelt down, signalling he wouldn’t try to stop me again. I glanced at Brasti, who had an arrow nocked. I knew he wouldn’t fire. His eyes were filled with tears and so much sorrow that he looked like an old man to me. He removed his arrow from the string and he too knelt down on the floor, and as he did that, others did as well, even some of Trin’s men. Perhaps it was because they genuinely didn’t know who was in charge any more. Perhaps it was simply that kneeling is so often second nature to us.
‘Duchess Tarindelle of Hervor,’ I said, stepping past Kest and making my way to her, ‘for your crimes against this nation, for murder and conspiracy, it is my verdict that you will be executed.’
Filian tried to stand in front of her. ‘Who are you to issue such a verdict without trial?’ he demanded.
‘I am the First Cantor of the Magistrates of Tristia,’ I replied. ‘I’m the man with the sword.’
He reached for his belt-knife, but Trin stopped him. She whispered something in his ear and after a few seconds he reluctantly stepped aside. She looked up at me, for once neither smiling, nor making any sly comment or bold threat. Our eyes met, and for the first time I recognised how similar we were: both tacticians at heart, finding the path through obstacles others believed impenetrable. That’s why she knew that there was no move, no ploy that would save her now.
Trin went to her knees and spread her arms wide, tilting her head back, giving me a range of options on how best to end her. It was also a clear signal to her supporters not to interfere. I felt a strange surge of gratitude. She could have commanded her men to protect her and made this a bloody affair, but she didn’t.