Page 22 of The Lord of Whispers

It looked like Jay relaxed the tension held between his shoulders by just a fraction.

“Whether the King thinks I have time to or not, I need to do further digging into Don Davante. He’s escalating things beyond their normal levels,” Jay said, the razor-sharp edge in his eyes softening.

And then his piercing gray eyes were back on me. He rose from the leather chair he sat in, drawing my gaze up to his face. He moved to stand in front of where I still sat and lightly trailed the pad of his thumb along my lower lip, ending his progression with his thumb just below my chin.

“Strong work tonight, Alarie,” the high lord praised, letting his hand drop.

I walked to my room, trying to ignore the ghostly imprint of his fingerprints on my skin.

10

Jay

House Heroux hosted dinner at the High Court once a month. Lately, I’d been unable to make the regularly scheduled dinner due to my out-of-town travel, but tonight everyone on the High Council was in attendance. Everyone except High Lord Bellamy. His seat, as usual, remained empty. King Heroux sat at a table overlooking the large crowd in attendance, with me on his right and his consort, Gloria, on his left. Lady Tragon sat next to Gloria, and High Lord Rein sat on my right. With dinner finished, the evening transitioned to entertainment.

King Heroux was once one of the most powerful fae there ever was in Valencia. He still was, comparatively. His ability to weave magic allowed him to create almost anything he wanted out of nothing at his whim—a wall to keep our enemies out, a prison to keep our enemies in, a shield, a cup,anything. But in the days of the magic dying and less ostensible showings of magic, other forms of power—such as youth, beauty, and money—began to take a foothold at Court.

Lord Philip Belford and Cole Tragon were both evidence of this shift at the High Court.Lord Belford was a comely young lord visiting the High Court from the southwest coast of Valencia. He had reddish hair but not bright red like that signature of the lesser fae. The hue of his hair had more of a rusted-red look to it.

Cole challenged Lord Belford to a duel of first-touch, which Philip accepted. The young lords were cocksure, even in the presence of their King and the High Council, as they made their way to the center of the ballroom. The crowd cleared around them, sticking to the sides of the room and creating a circle in the center of the large room.

With all the people rearranging to make room for the duel, I lost track of Alarie. I scanned the room until I found her again. She looked amazing dressed in the blue of my House. We’d kept our distance lately. But the same could not be said for her and Luke, I noted, as she was pushed closer to his side by the crowd.

The two young lords faced each other in the center of the room as a hush fell over the crowd. Cole unsheathed the longsword at his belt and crossed the sword over his body, lightly touching his right shoulder with its hilt before holding it in front of his face between himself and Lord Belford. Lord Belford matched Cole’s efforts, their two swords crossing in the middle between them.

Lord Belford made to incline his head, as a show of sportsmanship. Unsurprisingly, Cole did not match this gesture, and before Lord Belford even lifted his head, Cole was striking out at him with his sword. Lord Belford met Cole’s parry, and the young lords went blow for blow with each other. Several minutes into the spar, the two lords appeared fairly evenly matched. Cole began to exhibit frustration at this fact, taking riskier moves and making harder blows in an effort to throw off Lord Belford. I’d seen amateur swordsmen make this mistake before. Cole would tire himself out or else open himself up to a blow from Philip if he kept it up.

Perhaps realizing that he would not be able to keep up his exaggerated movements much longer, Cole stamped down on Lord Belford’s foot, causing Lord Belford to stumble. As Lord Belford went to rise, Cole met Lord Belford’s chin with the tip of his sword. It was an ungentlemanly move on Cole’s part, not fit for a friendly duel with the purpose of evening entertainment. But Lord Belford was gracious about it, nonetheless, conceding the match. The applause that followed was a small, muted affair.

Cole stood by with a gloating smugness on his face, scanning the room and waiting for his next challenger.

“Jay,” the King barked. “Go show those young pups how to properly win a duel.” He beckoned toward the shuffling crowd.

I cast a sideways glance at my friend. Lady Tragon sat down the table close enough to hear the King’s words but remained silent, staring out into the crowd with a focused gaze.

“Grey…” I warned.

Grey knew damn well that I would easily beat Cole and that the prideful young lord was not likely to take it well. I’d been a sword master for longer than the snotty little lord had been alive.

“Go on,” Grey encouraged, a mischievous smile playing at his mouth.

I tilted my head to the side as if to say, “If you insist,” but already I was looking forward to it. I stood, not trying to avoid the scraping noise that my chair made as I pushed it back and away from the table. Several heads turned toward me until Cole noticed and also turned toward the head table that stood above the crowded room.

The room grew silent as it always did when I was near, all conversations fizzling out before I reached them. Cole’s eager eyes tracked my movement to the center of the room until I stood before him.

“Cole,” I greeted.

“Contra,” he spat.

We skipped any further pleasantries. Cole was feral to get at me. We crossed swords immediately. Similar to before, Cole made the first move, quickly breaking away from our crossed swords and lashing out at me. I parried Cole’s move with a quick, efficient strike of my own sword. Moving one hand behind my back, I batted down Cole’s sword. I stood still, waiting for his next attack.

Cole came at me again, and I met his blow once more with little effort. Frustrated by the embarrassingly low effort that I needed to put into the match, as I knew he would be, Cole predictably came at me with a flurry of strikes, bringing his sword down hard and fast.

I met each move, expending the same amount of effort as before.I’d always felt at ease with the violent, fluid movements of a sword in my hand and the ringing sounds of steel clashing against steel in my ears.Deciding to end the spectacle, I spun instead of meeting Cole’s next hard blow, causing him to run straight past me. He stumbled and lost his balance. When Cole went to right himself, he straightened his back into the point of my sword.

I immediately released the young lord from my sword tip and made to leave the floor. I’d moved so quickly that the spectators in the crowd were still trying to figure out what had happened and why the match was already over.

“Again, Lord Vitruvian,” Cole demanded, his breathing labored, his normally pale face flushed.

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