Footsteps sounded behind me, and I tensed as I heard Bowen’s voice.
“Liana? We need to talk.”
A knot of anguish unspooled in my stomach. I had to know the truth, hear it from his lips. Was he the man I’d fallen in love with, or the enemy?
I didn’t face him. Instead, I moved toward the rack holding the sabers we’d fought with when I first came to the manor. I selected one and slid another across the floor. It skittered to a stop under his boot.
“What are you doing?” he asked, staring down at the weapon. “Did something happen?” Concern laced his tone, and I tried to harden myself against it.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Three times, and I’ll run you through.
I examined the saber, twisting the hilt with my wrist. “Revenge is such a funny thing.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I heard you downstairs. You lied to me about my father and about how I came to be here, and I’m starting to think maybe you lied about everything else too.”
His voice dipped, and he took a step forward, reaching out his hand. “No, that’s not true.”
“Did you or did you not frame my father and send him to prison?”
“I did.”
My palm felt slick around the hilt of the saber. I tightened my grip as a single tear slid down my cheek. I swiped it away with a violent flick of my hand. Jaw tightening, I lifted the blade and moved into a fighting stance.
“Don’t do this, Liana. Let me explain.”
“So you can lie to me again? Pick up your weapon.”
He bent at the waist, reaching for the blade at his feet. It hung loosely in his grip even as I threatened him with my own weapon. The night wind rattled the windows, and an icy chill raised the gooseflesh on my arms. I felt cold from the inside out, hollow, unsure. The only thing steady was my hand, the saber an extension of my desire to force the truth from him.
Time seemed to stall, then it sped forward double-time as I lunged with the razor’s edge of the blade aimed at Bowen’s heart. His eyes glinted in the moonlight, never leaving mine as my saber sliced through the air.
He didn’t move. My control slipped when I feared he wasn’t going to fight back. But no—something shifted in the last second, and his features tightened, muscles clenching with the force of his decision.
Our blades clashed, sending vibrations shooting through my palm and up my arm. This was different than our first fight. There was no playful teasing, no amusement. Neither one of us hid behind coy smiles or a lack of understanding of our opponent.
With our sabers crossed, he shoved me back a step and kept coming. My heart thudded painfully in my chest from the savage look in his eyes. His heavy footsteps pounded against the floor, and I faltered, altering my grip to deflect the blow he thrust toward my shoulder.
“Is this what you wanted? You won’t listen to what I have to say, so you’ll make me defend myself with steel?” The guttural sound of his voice echoed in my ears, sending a sliver of alarm through my body. Had I pushed him too far or not far enough?
His weapon whistled through the air, and I spun, using a display case to block his next strike. It landed with a clang against the reinforced glass. Taking cover in the shadows, I tried to regain control of my breathing. His footfalls were nearly silent against the polished floor, stalking closer, hunting me with practiced precision. The back of my neck tingled with awareness.
“You lied to me. You used me for your own interests.”
“I did,” he whispered close to my ear.
Startled, I lunged away, lifting my weapon in defense. He stepped back into the moonlight, and the silver rays bathed his grim features. The scars that made others cower in fear paled in comparison to his fierce gaze.
“I saw something I wanted, and I took it. It’s true your father was merely a tool to get you here, and you know what, Liana?”
“What?” I asked around the tightness in my throat.
“I’d do it again.” He closed the distance, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. His weight shifted to the balls of his feet as he readied his next assault.
I struck first, and the hint of a smile crested his lips. He dodged the blow, but I made the mistake of getting too close. His empty hand wrapped around my wrist. Fingers pressed against my pulse, he dragged me roughly against him.
His grip gentled. “If that makes me a monster, then I’m a monster. But I wouldn’t change anything, and I know you hate to hear that. You want apologies and an assurance I’m not like the demons from your past.” Releasing my wrist, he raised his hand, thumb skating across my jaw and tilting it upward. A tear set itself free, rolling down my cheek until it pooled against the crease where his skin met mine.
