Page 81 of When the Duke Met His Match

The rebels fought against the few guards left in the room, yet they were outnumbered. With Theophilus down as well, she didn’t know how much longer they would be able to hold on.

Worried for his safety, Odette slipped a hand under his shoulders and tried to lift him. She put all her strength behind it, but it was fruitless. He was too heavy, and she was in too much distress to make it work.

Frustrated, she gritted her teeth. She hated feeling useless and resented herself for not being strong enough.

She only ever wanted to be strong, both in body and mind.

Closing her eyes, she tried to find the courage within herself to lift him to safety. Maybe then she could help the others fight without worrying about where he was.

“Find the king!” one of the rebels shouted, and the men took off in a run. They cleared through most of the ballroom, leaving the space in a state beyond repair.

With most of the men distracted by the search, Odette took a moment to breathe. Surely there was still time.

A sword suddenly aimed between herself and Theophilus made her swallow against the bitter dryness in her throat. Pierre was at the other end, eyes fixed on her with resolve. His lip curled in a victorious expression. “It’s over, Odette. You lost.”

Anger surged through her then, having never let anyone tell her when she had lost before. Between the ambush's chaos and worry for Theophilus’ wounds, she didn’t have any space left to deal with Pierre and his harsh words.

“You could’ve been on the right side of history if these English fools hadn’t corrupted your French values,” he muttered pitifully, feigning a sad expression.

Despite the sinking of her heart, she refused to give up. It couldn’t end in such a way, not when the two of them had come so close to creating the life they craved with one another.

She narrowed her eyes at Pierre and seethed, “You’re wrong. You will never find happiness or fulfillment in this life. You will be miserable and alone, left with an impossible desire for revenge.”

Visibly irritated by her words, he raised his sword, poised to strike with a wild gleam in his eyes.

Odette braced herself despite being defenseless.

Even if he were to smite them, she knew it would be worth it in the end to be with her beloved after trying their best to save the king and rewrite their fate. They attempted something far bigger than themselves, and she had him by her side every step of the way.

She was a part of something she grew to resent, but with the help of Theophilus, she learned that love had the power to make a person change. That love gave her the most fulfillment she had ever known, and that was enough to make her sacrifices worthwhile.

“For the king!”

The loud bellow captured the attention of everyone left in the room, including Pierre.

At once, Lieutenant Wright charged into the room with his blade raised, flanked by a sea of matching uniforms. The soldiers followed him closely and immediately engaged with the rebels.

Sparing one last look in her direction, Pierre tore away with a disgruntled sound, and he rejoined the French, who were suddenly overwhelmed by the vast number of Englishmen.

The two groups meshed in a sea of fighting, all determined to take the other side down. Shouts and the clash of swords filled the expansive room. Wright and his men fought with renewed vigor, much to Odette’s relief.

Able to focus on Theophilus once more, she looked down at him with tears in her eyes, holding his head in her lap as gently as she could.

She couldn’t lose him, not when the tide had shifted in their favor.

Chapter Forty-Three

THEOPHILUS

The ringing in Theophilus’ ears started as a quiet hum that progressed into a relentless sound he wanted to shut off. Pain shot through his body as he stirred, reaching for true awareness. He tried to force his eyes open, only able to peer through bleary vision.

Shapes moved above him, making him wonder what had happened and where he was. The brutal crack of blades colliding, matched with groans of pain, reminded him of the ambush.

Everything came back at him at once. Remembering he had been one of the men fighting, he tried to push himself up, yet his body failed to comply. More blinding agony pierced through him.

Resolved to remain in his place, he blinked through the fog and spotted who he assumed was Pierre with his sword in his grasp. He growled with his jaw clenched before he ran off.

The roar of the fight sounded bigger than it had been, growing in force and ferocity. Surely it was beyond the hands of Eric and the few guards that fought alongside them.