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“Then he won’t duel me!”
“That was rather the idea,” he said, starting to frown. As it finally registered that something was wrong.
And it was; I just didn’t know what.
It wasn’t like I wanted Scarface out there, dogging my footsteps, waiting for another chance. And my win tonight had been about luck as much as skill, and luck was a fickle bitch who didn’t always like me much. I should be pleased that Louis-Cesare had handled this in a way that worked for everyone.
It was a diplomatic feat worthy of Mircea. I got protection, Louis-Cesare avoided strike three with the Senate, and Scarface didn’t lose any more face than he already had. Because no one wanted to duel Louis-Cesare. That was a death sentence and everybody knew it. No one would blame Zheng for backing off.
I should be happy. Hell, I should be thrilled.
So why was I so angry that my hands were shaking?
It felt almost like it did before I tipped over into Hulk mode. My breath had started coming faster, my heartbeat had become a visible pulse around my vision, and my fangs had dropped, piercing my lower lip. But it was different this time, too.
A minute ago, the fey camp had been shrouded in shadows, the only people really visible those in the fire’s stuttering ring. But suddenly I could see everyone, even those who, like us, had already disappeared into the shadows or snuck away into the tents. The fey were blinding columns of white; the humans darker, redder, more varied. But all were perfectly visible, the heat rising from their bodies giving away their location as accurately as a searchlight.
I didn’t have vision like that. I never had. But it was hard to concentrate on it with anger surging through my veins.
“Your eyes,” Louis-Cesare said, his voice sounding far off even though he was right there.
“My blood,” I snarled, my voice going guttural, my hands digging into his flesh. “My kill.”
“Dorina—”
“Dory, I’m going to bed,” Claire said, coming through the trees. “Can you check—”
She stopped dead, to the point that it looked almost like she’d run into a wall. And I don’t know what she saw, but the next second she was running at me, even as I was trying to back away. I didn’t want anyone to touch me, not even her. I was afraid, because I didn’t know what was happening. And I was angry, so fucking angry I could barely see.
And then the landscape flooded red, like a bucket of blood had been splashed over a camera lens. And oh God, that wasn’t good. Claire grabbed my arm, but I barely felt it, the usual calming current of her power all but lost in the gathering storm.
“What did you do to her?” she demanded, whirling on Louis-Cesare.
“I made a mistake,” he said, his voice hollow. Or maybe that was me. Sounds were distorting, too, magnifying. A girl’s laughter from near the fire, some wood popping, tiny shush-shushings of wind rustling the trees—all were equally clear, equally audible. The garden was suddenly deafening.
“What kind of a mistake?” Claire said, her voice harsh. “What did you do?”
“I…It is difficult to explain to a human—”
“Try,” Claire gritted out, exerting real power now, trying to pull the rage off me. But this time, for the first time, it didn’t work. Or, rather it did, I could feel it leaving my body, like a hot wind pouring into the blessed coolness of her being, pouring in and being absorbed. But while that usually left me pale and weak and very, very calm, tonight it was barely noticeable. Just enough to keep me on this side of sanity, fighting and clawing and teetering on the very edge.
Some of the fey appeared through the trees, and here and there the bright blade of a sword caught the bloody light from the lanterns, gleaming seductively. I had a sudden impulse, a mad desire to fly at them, to find out if they were as good with an edged weapon as I’d always heard, to see if they could blood me before I—
What the hell was wrong with me?
“What did you do?” Claire shouted.
“I…wasn’t thinking,” Louis-Cesare said. “I was furious that he would dare…I wanted to protect her.”
“Then why is she like this?”
“I did not ask permission.”
“What?”
“To champion her. I did not ask.”
“Why does that matter?”
