Charming, Volume 2 (10 page)

Liz screamed, “NO!”

Blood flowed freely from the wound, and his fingers began to go numb. Charming dropped the hard-­won clothes and switched the sword to his left hand. He smiled over at Liz and, affecting his smoothest voice, said, “Dear Lady, it is but a scratch. No more. I have been meaning to practice with my off hand for weeks now.”

The two guards still standing spread out along his flanks. Charming stepped carefully around the pile of Liz's clothes and gazed into the eyes of the one whose blade was bloodied. He remembered the man from the practice grounds.
He had always been good. Too bad I never paid attention to their names, but I was once their commander. I wonder. . .

Charming allowed the guard to advance a few paces, and then putting all the command he could muster into his voice, he barked, “GUARDSMAN! BE careful not to trod the lady's dress, you're going to ruin it.”

Instinctively, the guard glanced down. Charming used the distraction to clout him with the flat of his blade. The man fell to the ground unconscious.

Charming was breathing hard now, but there was to be no respite. The other guard was still up, and, blade at the ready, he came forward with a scowl. He was a large fellow, half a head taller than the others. Charming lifted his weapon and tucked his injured right arm against his body as a bloodstain spread down the sleeve toward his hand.

Over his shoulder, Charming heard Liz grunt in pain. He risked a quick glance. Gwendolyn had clearly gained some deeper level of control over the captain's body, because he was walking steadily toward Liz now. She was cornered against the side of the cottage but somehow had gotten hold of a broom that she was swinging at the captain as if trying to beat a rug. “Keep away from me, you witch.”

This has to end before someone, before Elizabeth, gets killed,
he thought.

Ignoring the pain, Charming switched his sword back to his right hand, and gripped and regripped the hilt in an attempt to draw a little strength back into his weakening arm. Then, with a sudden violent movement, he feinted left and dropped his guard in apparent fatigue, so that his right side was momentarily exposed. The guard fell for the deception, attacking aggressively.

Charming parried and, using all of his strength, beat violently at the man's blade. It fell to the ground with a clatter. The guard dove for the sword, but Charming was too fast. His boot came down on top of the blade as the man's hand grasped its hilt. Charming put the tip of his sword to his opponent's throat and, gesturing for him to rise, kicked the fallen weapon away. Behind him, he heard the two men who had taken the impact of the stag's charge rise and begin to close in.

“I could have gone for a riposte instead of trying to disarm you. Now, tell them to back off, or I swear I will cut your throat.”

“Never,” the man grunted. “It would be treason.”

Across the clearing, Charming saw that Liz had lost her broom and was trying to dodge around the captain and into the cottage.

“You-­are-­pathetic,” crowed the captain to Liz. “Just-­look-­at-­you. Your-­hair-­is-­that-­awful-­bark-­brown-­you-­wear-­dishrags-­for-­clothes-­and-­you've-­got-­no-­bust-­to-­speak-­of.”

Charming looked down his sword at the guard he had just disarmed, and swiveled his head to take in the others as well. “That is not your captain speaking. It's Princess Gwendolyn. I don't know how, but she is controlling him.”

The guards looked between Charming and the captain in obvious disbelief, and, for a heartbeat, they seemed on the edge of renewing their attack when their captain shouted, “I'M-­TEN-­TIMES-­THE-­WOMAN-­YOU-­ARE!”

The men stared at their leader, mouths open, and then dropped their blades.

“Good.” Charming sighed with relief. “Now, take your friend and go home.”

The guards picked up their fallen comrade, and Charming turned toward the cottage. He tried to take a step forward, but his knees buckled and his vision swam. Only through sheer force of will did he manage to keep his feet.

Shaking his head to clear it, he called out, “Stay away from the lady, Captain, or you will answer to me.”

The captain turned toward Charming, eyelashes fluttering and smirking. “Oh-­has-­little-­Eddie-­come-­to-­save-­his-­peasant-­girl? My-­dear-­no-­one-­cares-­about-­you-­anymore. You-­are-­finished.”

Charming smiled his most infuriating smile. “I don't care what you or anyone else thinks of me.” He dropped the smile and fixed his eyes on Liz. “There is only one person in this world that I care about.”

The captain swung his sword away from Liz to point at Charming instead. “You-­can't-­love-­this-­nobody. She-­is-­so-­common.”

“My God, you really are insufferable, aren't you, Princess?”

Face contorted in rage, the captain swung wildly at Charming. He sidestepped the attack and countered with a slash across his opponent's midsection that cut a fine gash in his chain shirt.

Concern flashed across Liz's face. “It's not his fault, Prince,” she pleaded. “Please don't hurt him.”

“Anything you wish, milady,” Charming said with more confidence than he felt. He parried the captain's second thrust, then turned his sword to the side and struck with the flat of his blade, which the captain parried in turn. They exchanged a series of attacks and counterattacks.

Charming felt his reactions slow. His sword was growing heavier, and the edges of his vision kept blurring. The captain pressed his advantage, driving Charming back, away from the cottage and toward the edge of the wood.

They disengaged for a moment as the captain couldn't quite keep up with Charming's retreat. Charming planted the tip of his blade into the ground, leaned against it, and laughed aloud.

The outburst was so unexpected that the captain paused and looked quizzically at him. “Why-­are-­you-­laughing?”

“Because of the absurdity of all of this.”

“What-­do-­you-­mean?”

“Well, you are mad at me because I love her,” he said pointing over at Elizabeth. “But, if my guess is right, you are intending to marry her brother, Lord William. That means that if I can convince Lady Elizabeth to marry me, which I have every intention of doing, then we will be family and you would be killing your brother for not being interested in his sister.” He shook his head and then spit out, “And you call me mad, you gnarled old hag.”

The captain flushed red in anger, but then the color drained away and the rage was replaced with a devious grin. “Is-­that-­your-­way-­of-­asking-­Lady-­Elizabeth-­to-­marry-­you-­Eddie? It-­is-­not-­up-­to-­your-­usual-­poetic-­standards. Why-­don't-­you-­ask-­her-­properly? Drop-­to-­one-­knee-­and-­make-­it-­official. I-­will-­even-­be-­chivalrous-­and-­step-­back.” With that, the possessed captain lowered his blade and backed away.

With an evil laugh, Gwendolyn's minion retreated to the other end of the meadow. Charming knew some plot lay behind this gesture from the Princess, but he could not figure out what it might be, and frankly didn't care. This was his chance. He took a few paces toward Elizabeth, but then his legs gave out. Using his sword as support, he dropped to one knee. He lowered his eyes to gather his thoughts and saw a small pool of his blood on the ground beneath him.

It doesn't matter
, he thought.

Charming looked at Liz, and for the first time since the battle began, their eyes met. Nothing had ever mattered as much as this moment. Liz stood motionless, waiting, her whole body tense like a delicate vase balanced on a knife's edge. Confusion and doubt were etched on her face. Given his reputation and their last encounter at the ball, how could she not doubt him? He doubted himself. Not that he loved her, but that he was worthy of her.

At last he understood what Adam had been trying to tell him. From almost the first instant, she had captured his heart; and despite his attempts to resist her, his path from then to now had been set. The only difference between now and then was his willingness to accept that it was his fate to love her, and his fate to surrender to her.

So Charming surrendered. He did not use flowery speech or ­couplet; instead, he cast his heart on the wind and spoke the truth, and in the magic of the moment, his soft words carried on the air of the silent meadow so that she heard them like a whisper in her ear. “Elizabeth Pickett, I love you. And, if you would do me the honor of granting me your hand, I promise that I shall spend the remainder of my days striving to make myself worthy of you.”

All was quiet. Liz and the captain stared at him with similar expressions of wonderment. Liz opened her mouth to say something, but the captain, shaking his head clear, spoke first. “Before-­you-­answer-­Lady-­Elizabeth-­ask-­Eddie-­why-­he-­is-­no-­longer-­a-­prince. Ask-­him-­why-­his-­father-­disowned-­him. Ask-­him-­why-­he-­sold-­your-­brother-­to-­murderous-­bandits-­for-­a-­single-­silver-­coin. Ask-­him-­how-­a-­man-­that-­could-­love-­you-­so-­deeply-­could-­also-­betray-­your-­beloved-­brother-­so-­villainously.”

Liz stared at Charming with glassy eyes. He paled and dropped his gaze back to the growing pool of blood.

“ASK-­HIM!” the captain said with a shout so loud that the forest echoed the command back at them.

Liz flinched as though struck. “Is . . . Is this true?”

He met her beautiful hazel eyes again. She was crying. “It is.”

All the color had drained from her face. “You betrayed my brother? Why? Was it because of the dragon? Were you angry about what we did?”

“No, it had nothing to do with the dragon,” he said, shaking his head. At least he knew that much was true. The dragon, oddly, meant nothing to him now.

“Then why?” she asked again, her voice shaking.

Charming did not know how to answer. What had he wanted to happen that day? What had he expected the bandits to do? “I do not know.”

“You don't know? That can only mean that you were indifferent to his fate, to whether he lived or not. I knew you were selfish, Edward Charming, but I did not know that you could be that unfeeling.”

He had no answer to this, and so kept silent. Her face was a mask of grief, but she was master of her voice, and her words were cold and resolute. “If this is your final word, then know that I could never love you and that I match your indifference with my own.”

Charming had known it must be so, but still the blow of her judgment fell heavily. He felt the strength leave his body. Distantly, Charming heard a scream of emotionless laughter from the captain. He looked up as the man began to charge across the field. “THANK-­YOU-­LADY-­ELIZABETH-­I-­COULD-­NOT-­HAVE-­SAID-­IT-­BETTER,” the captain shouted as he ran.

Charming tried to move, but realized he could not rise. Beyond feeling empty with grief, his body was suddenly so weak. The pool of blood now surrounded him. It would be so easy to let the captain's blow fall. But he had to make sure Elizabeth was safe.

I cannot win this fight
,
but I can make sure that Gwendolyn loses.

There would be no happy ending for him, but there still might be at least some measure of redemption. He closed his eyes against what was to come and breathed deeply.

LIZ STOOD PARALYZED
.
She watched the captain's charge. He was already halfway to Charming and still the Prince had not moved to defend himself. He knelt, body slack, his sword untouched at his side. A rush of fear shot through Liz's body like a firestorm.

He is not moving. Why is he not moving?

She looked at his face, still unable to believe that Prince Charming would give up. What she saw there sent an icy shiver along her spine. His face, his eyes, were dead.

Oh, God, he is going to let the man kill him.

Whatever power, whatever maddening, infuriating, beautiful essence it was that made the Prince, Prince Charming, was gone
.

He does not kneel there because he wishes to die. He is already dead. He has given up because of me.

Still her mind refused to believe.

I cannot mean that much to him.

Her thoughts raced and collided in a disordered tangle.

How can I trust him? He says he loves me, yet admits that he betrayed Will. How can I trust a man that would send my brother to his death? What kind of sister would that make me? Who is he? Is he the man from the ball or is he this man . . . a man who would risk everything to save me?

She didn't know what had happened between the prince and her brother, but something about Charming was different, something had changed in him, and, between one breath and the next, she knew that she could not bear the thought that she might never see him again.

Liz rose to her feet and began to rush forward, but it was too late. The captain slowed a stride before he reached Charming and swung his sword in a wide arc at the kneeling man's neck.

“NO!” Liz screamed, reaching her hands out helplessly.

In a nearly inhuman burst of speed, and with a grace that was his alone, Charming rose and pivoted on the balls of his feet. The captain's sword cut into his side, opening a long gash in his body below the ribs even as Charming brought his fist into the man's jaw in a vicious uppercut. The blow had in it all the strength left to Charming's body. There was an audible crack, and the captain was lifted upward and then thrown backward. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

For a moment, Charming stood swaying on his feet. He looked down at his tunic, now drenched in scarlet, and at the pool of his blood spreading outward onto the delicate snowy white shift he had fought so hard to save. He looked across the meadow, toward the house and Liz. She was running toward him. Their eyes met again. He gasped something inaudible and then collapsed.