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I swung again before he steadied himself. He blocked it.
He circled the sofa. Sword high as I moved back. I feigned another swing and kicked his knee. He tumbled over the sofa, landing on his feet.
My cloak snagged on the foot of the table. I yanked it loose.
I took a step closer to the Shadow, then stopped. I didn’t need my cloak and hood. He had already seen my face.
I reached up to my neck and let them fall to the ground.
“You look better with the cloak,” he taunted.
“I’m sure you look better without your head,” I bit back. He laughed, craning his neck as he trailed my movements.
“If you’re not Nikolai, why do you care if I kill him?” I asked.
“He’s a friend,” the Shadow answered. The moonlight from the window glowed against the inky black of his cloak.
“I didn’t realize shadows had friends,” I said, moving in front of the window.
He leaped over the couch. “More than blades.”
The Shadow lifted his sword and waited. Inviting me to strike again. I still had more questions.
“Friends are weaknesses a Blade cannot afford.” I swung again. He blocked it with his sword. I turned, slashing at his torso. He took a step back, evading the blow before offering one of his own.
Strike. Dodge. Strike. Turn.
We fell into a steady tempo. The clash of our steel marking the beat as we danced around each other. He moved quick, but I was quicker. With each strike I pushed him back until his heels hit the wall.
“You don’t seem to be trying very hard to kill me,” his dark voice rasped between blows.
I switched hands, aiming a strike at his chest. He evaded a full blow, but the tip of my blade cut the dark fabric of his tunic. I grinned at the slice I left across his sleeve.
“That’s because I don’t want to kill you,” I said before I dropped, swiping his leg. He jumped, so I rammed the hilt of my sword into his knee. He flew forward and fell to the floor. I pulled a small, hooked blade from my boot as he turned to face me.
I leaped off the ground, twisting over his head. I lowered my arm just enough that my hook caught his hood. I pulled it down as I landed behind him, holding my sword at his throat.
Dark violet eyes looked up at me. Swirling pools of rage, covered by dark brows and an angled face.
A face I knew.
The Shadow was Dark Fae.
The Shadow was Riven.
“NICE TRICK,” Riven spat. His head was tilted upward, leaning back against me as I held the edge of my blade to his skin. I looked down at his eyes, his violet eyes.
“The Dark Fae are making a move against the Crown?” I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice. I knew the Shadow was connected to the Faeland, but I assumed only an Elf or a Halfling would’ve been motivated enough to attack the king. The Dark Fae had lived for seven centuries under King Aemon’s rule and never made a move against him. Why wait until the fate of their race was already decided to rebel?
“No, they’re not.” Riven coughed, inching backward. I pressed the blade farther into his flesh. Not hard enough to cut him, but enough that he would be a fool to try and move.
I scoffed. “You expect me to believe it’s just you? One rogue against an entire kingdom?” I already knew he had accomplices. The other hooded figure from Cereliath, for starters.
Riven clamped his teeth so hard I could hear it. I pushed my blade harder.
“If you don’t answer me, I’ll kill you now.” It was an empty threat, but he didn’t know that.
“I don’t work alone,” he relented. “But none of them are Dark Fae. They don’t want to break the accords with the king.”
