Page 79 of When the Duke Met His Match

Driving his sword through a nearby rebel with a grunt, Theophilus withdrew his blade and sucked in a labored breath. Glancing around the room, he realized the king was nowhere to be seen.

That was a good sign. He had been flanked by his lieutenants.

He only hoped that was enough to save the king’s life.

A screaming Frenchman ran toward Theophilus with a blade raised, causing him to snap back into the present. He blocked it and parried, forcing the assailant back several steps.

The man tried to hack at him, eyes wild with determination, but Theophilus was strong enough not to let any of them land. It took one good kick to the stomach and a slice of his weapon to bring the man down.

More wails and cries echoed throughout the room as the partygoers fled, searching for the safest way out. It was inevitably difficult to find through the turmoil.

Sweat poured down his face as he fought for the king and his own life. He covered for Eric whenever he had the chance, but he was often pulled away to fend off the next one who ran at him.

“Where is the king?” one of them shouted at him as they swung, clashing their swords together with a horrible ring.

“That doesn’t concern you,” Theophilus snapped, quick on his feet to gain him some distance.

“He dies tonight!” the man sneered, growling as he put everything into his hits.

Theophilus blocked again and again, never taking his eyes away from the rebel. That one seemed full of more resentment than the others had been, clearly using it to try and bring him down.

Their blades locked, and assuming he had the spar already won, he reeled his arm back. But the man’s sword slipped away and spun Theophilus out of his grasp. It clattered to the floor just as the rebel sliced at his leg.

Blinding pain shot through him, and Theophilus fought to stay standing.

A blade struck the assailant from his right and dished him a fatal wound. Eric was at the other end of it, giving him a triumphant smile. Withdrawing his sword slicked with blood, he moved on to the next one.

Theophilus spotted his weapon on the floor and reached for it. But pain cracked across the back of his head, and everything went terribly still for a moment. A sickly warmth moved from the top down to the base of his skull, and the blaring noise quieted.

A distant ringing overshadowed the chaotic world around him, and the room began to spin.

He hit the floor and welcomed the darkness without resistance.

Chapter Forty-Two

ODETTE

Odette was initially paralyzed by the shock and fear that enveloped her. Despite Pierre's quick reaction to the commotion, she couldn't move from her spot. The smoke made breathing difficult for her, causing her to cough and bend over. The sounds of screams surrounded her, but she remained silent.

She couldn’t run and scream and cry for help. She had to try and assist in whatever way she could.

Staggering away from the rush of people, she didn’t know where to begin. Broken glass crunched beneath her shoes, and everything in the room was layered thickly with dust.

A group of rebels poured into the room with more men than she had anticipated, and her heart lodged in her throat. She sucked in a big breath.

“Wait!” she yelled, to which most of them ignored her. A few glanced in her direction.

Odette tore her mask off and threw it away, hoping her identity would give them pause. “Stop this, please!”

Several of them hung back as recognition filled their eyes, blinking back at her as if they had seen a ghost.

“Odette?” one of them asked with disbelief.

She heard the clash of swords in the distance and tried to maintain her composure. “Yes, it’s me. Please stop this before anyone else gets hurt and loses their lives for nothing.” When a small group of them hesitated, she hoped to use that to her advantage. “Lay down your weapons and walk away from this. It isn’t worth it.”

Having heard enough, they scoffed and turned away from her, running head-first into the fight. She could only imagine Theophilus and Eric stood their ground on the other side. She hoped so anyway.

The running caused more of the dust to stir and hover in the air, and it masked most of the scene before her. Lost in the chaos of it all, Odette moved backward, feeling completely useless in the fight. She tried to push her panic down, but it was no use.