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I challenged him with my stare. “A letter to who?”
“Whom.”
I gritted my teeth. “Don’t mock me.”
Wendel spoke from the shadows. “He’s telling the Russians about Project Lazarus. Betraying the Archmages of Vienna.”
The Grandmaster put down his pen. “How far you have fallen. Wasting Amarant’s magic to cower in the shadows and read over my shoulder.”
He was trying to bait Wendel into attacking, wasn’t he? I stalled for time.
“Why would you betray the archmages?” I asked.
“This isn’t betrayal.” The Grandmaster steepled his fingers. “War is good for business.”
I snatched the letter from the desk. Before I could tear it in half, the Grandmaster caught me by the wrist and clenched my bones in an iron grip.
“Stop. Ruin this one, and I will have to start again.”
“Don’t touch her,” Wendel said.
“Or what?” the Grandmaster said. “You will kill me? Aren’t you tired of that threat?”
My knees wobbled, threatening to buckle under me, but I locked my legs. “Thorsten Magnusson, I wish I never found out you were my father.”
He twisted my wrist. I gasped at the pain.
I spotted a silver paper knife. When he glanced away, I grabbed it and stabbed him. He blocked me with his arm, jerked back, and yanked the paper knife from his flesh. He wiped the blood on his sleeve.
“That was a mistake,” he said.
I drew my sword and steeled my nerves.
I dodged his attack. His knife scraped down the length of my blade. He shoved my sword away, but I recognized this disarming move. When he reached for my sword’s pommel with his free hand, I caught his wrist and twisted it aside. I didn’t counterattack, too wary of his skill, and retreated instead.
Crouching, he slashed at me, his movements like lightning. I sidestepped and swung at his ribs. He was fast, but not fast enough. Chun Yi raked his ribs and blazed at the taste of blood. He touched his wound, little more than a scratch, and glanced at his red fingers. He arched his eyebrows and shook his head.
“Impressive,” he said. “You show promise.”
“Don’t fucking try to father me,” I replied.
The Grandmaster stabbed at me again.
Shadows rippled behind us. Wendel swooped from the darkness like an angel of death. The black dagger glinted in the candlelight an instant before he attacked. He aimed the dagger for his enemy’s neck.
The Grandmaster blocked barehanded. He knocked Wendel’s wrist aside and followed with a brutal elbow to the face. The shadows vanished from Wendel as he staggered back. He bared his bloodstained teeth.
“I’m warning you once,” Wendel said. “Touch her again and you die.”
“What does she mean to you?” asked the Grandmaster.
“I swore an undying vow to protect her.”
“No.” He tilted his head. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”
My sword’s thirst pounded like a deafening heartbeat in my ears. More. It wanted more. I would pay for my victory with blood.
I swung at the Grandmaster’s legs, trying to hamstring him. When he danced back, I swung again to keep him on the defensive. He blocked my sword with his knife and hooked his foot behind mine. I crashed on the floor. The Grandmaster kicked me savagely in the ribs and wrenched my sword from my hand.
