Page 7 of Heir to His Court

Am I truly of her blood?

You are. If she has turned her attention to you, you must be a true Heir.

What does that mean?Half my attention was divided by finding my people and rounding them up.

Nothing good. You are mine.

I withdrew from his mind, though I kept a tendril of the bond between us open as I worked.

* * *

Juliette and Édouard were left in charge of our District while I went after Baba and Numair, though there had been some argument, which I ended by walking away. Not everything needed to be decided by committee, damnit. The other House Lords present were more than willing to sacrifice me while they tended to their own. Because the property damage and deaths had been mostly confined to Renaud’s path of travel from the faire to the palace, much of the city had escaped unscathed.

I commandeered a horse and made my way to the palace, taking the time to orient myself with Susenne's deep breathing exercises. Did I want to collapse in a corner somewhere and cry and scream and stab my blade into something soft and bleeding? Undoubtedly. Did I also want to hide behind my desk and plot Renaud’s painful death?

Absolument.

I had not forgiven him, not at all, especially as his offenses against me continued to stack. I was simply prioritizing.

He had lied to me. For years. With the flood of new memories I was holding back through sheer will came a renewal of all kinds of messy emotions. Once again, I reminded myself to focus on the present task, to not think beyond the current needs of my District and city. There would be time to debrief myself later. Was this how my father coped with my mother’s death? Drowned himself in all the work that needed to be done, all the people who depended on his equilibrium, until there was no room to think, much less feel?

I shook off the useless brooding and dismounted in Montague District, giving the horse to two younglings I spotted trying to hire conveyance back to their home. I gave stern instructions on where to return the horse once everything was settled down, then jogged.

I was halfway through the District—keeping a very close eye on any House warriors in Montague colors, I trustednoneof them—when the taste in the air changed.

A familiar change, haunting notes of lavender along with something I could only describe as charcoal infused with black licorice. A faint hum of energy in my body rose, causing the fine hairs on my skin to tremble. I set my jaw and continued the jog. Surely,surelythe enemy would not be so bold.

. . .surely.

Cursing in French, I picked up my pace. There were no horses to be found, either for hire or to commandeer in the name of my Lord or the Prince, so my own two feet would have to do. Again. I would have to express some mild, reluctant gratitude to Édouard when this was over for his tutelage in the fine art of long-distance sprinting to avoid potentially lethal difficulty.

Two blocks from the outskirts of Montague District, where the Boulevard broadened into the swath of highway leading to the black-and-white palace, the enemy revealed itself.

I halted, a fine coat of sweat on my skin. The sight of him set off a series of instincts, taloned hands rising from my well and digging into my legs, something dragging itself out of my core because it, if not I, understood the threat in front of us. I gave myself over to the instincts, to the other self.

Renaud had accused me of cowardice in refusing to access my power, rather than him admitting I simply had little. Fine. I’d operate under the assumption that he was correct, no matter how it pained me.

It rippled underneath my skin, a second nature seeking to emerge and with it. . .power. I reached out a finger and poked—it was a seething cauldron and I recoiled, not wanting to disturb it, not yet. I feared I couldn’t control it.

We are not afraid. But we are cautious.

The Black Knight stood in front of me, its matte black armor ridged. It approached with disconcerting silence, which should be impossible at that size especially considering the potential weight of all that armor.

“I see you’ve returned for a second crushing defeat,” I said, more to rouse my own good moralethan to communicate. Was it a person? A construct? Something more sinister?

I shifted my stance, calm flooding my muscles with the surety of a dozen years of surviving distressingly poor odds. With the arrogance of a High Lord’s daughter because, halfling that I was, I was still Maryonne Capulette’s child. I wouldnevershame my mother or brother with obvious fear.

“What, no response? Well, I suppose that’s asking too much. Fine. Shall we skip the usual pre-battle insults? I have an appointment I’d rather not—”

It leaped forward, demolishing the distance in a blindingly fast streak of power, cutting above the heads of the oblivious bystanders still annoying enough to be on the streets, stopped just beyond arm's reach and roared.

ChapterThree

The maw of its helm split wide to reveal a monstrous mouth full of jagged teeth.

It lunged forward, swinging the broadsword that appeared in its mailed grip in a wide arc, passing inches away from my face.

I deflected with a burst of Skill powered speed and accuracy, anticipating its movements as my power ran through multiple calculations and led my body in a familiar dance. I gave my conscious self over to it, to the burn of the energy surging up from my well and crackling through to my fingertips. The power felt more potent, but there was no time to analyze the difference.

---