Arland gripped the buckler with his left hand. The shield whined, priming. Veins of red streaked it, and as he turned the buckler, Maud saw its red tinted edge. It was razor sharp.

Aww. He’d built a vampire version of it.

Tellis, carrying twin blades, laughed. “My Lord, are you so poor that you couldn’t afford a proper shield, or so stupid that you think that little toy will protect you?”

“All in good time,” Arland said. “Wait, and I’ll show you.”

Ilemina leaned forward, focused on Arland. “A shield. Interesting. But why so small?”

Otubar grimaced. “Because it’s lively.”

The nine vampires spread out, encircling Arland. Suddenly she understood. Because there were nine of them, arranged around him in a rough circle, each knight only had a forty-degree angle to work with. The ideal distance for combat was about the length of your weapon plus a step. If they had stayed at the ideal distance, they would be nearly touching. They needed room to work, so instinctively they backed up, giving themselves space, but now they were so far away from Arland, they might as well announce their attacks before launching them. He had more than enough time to react, and they could only come at him two or three at a time, or they would get in each other’s way.

The knights realized it too, but there was no time to plan any kind of strategy. The longer they just stood there, the more it looked like they were afraid, and their plan to humiliate Arland was going belly up.

“Today!” Arland bellowed.

An older knight on his left charged, the huge two-handed sword slicing through the air in a vicious arc. Arland dodged. The vampire’s momentum carried him past Arland, who smashed his mace into the back of the other man’s helmet. The force of the blow knocked the knight to the ground. He rolled and lay still.

Onda and a blond knight to her right charged at the same time and collided. A leaner red-headed knight dashed in at Arland, thrusting his sword. Funny thing about bucklers: held close to the body, they offered very little protection, but when held out at arm’s length, not only did they protect most of you, they also cut your opponent’s view down to nothing. Arland let the blow glance off the buckler, directing it to his right, and brought his mace down like a hammer on the knight’s exposed right shoulder. Bone crunched as the armor failed to fully absorb the force of the hit. The red-headed vampire dropped his sword, but Arland was already turning to meet Tellis, who was attacking him from behind.

Tellis’ left sword met Arland’s mace, his right glanced off the buckler, leaving Tellis wide open for a fraction of a second, and Arland sank a vicious front kick into his stomach. Tellis stumbled back.

A broad-shouldered female knight leaped at Arland from the left, while a tall male knight charged from the right. Arland stepped back, and the female knight plowed into the male, both collapsing in a heap. Arland smashed the woman’s back with his mace. She screamed and rolled off the knight, who was flailing under her. The knight tried to rise and got a face full of buckler.

Onda smashed her hammer into Arland’s back. He must’ve sensed the blow but with no way to avoid it, he simply hunched his shoulders and took the hit. Onda must have expected him to go down, because she stared at him for half a second. Maud knew from experience that giving Arland half a second was a lethal mistake. He spun around, putting all of his weight behind a horizontal strike. His mace connected with Onda’s ribs. The hit swept her off her feet. It was almost comical—one moment she was there, brandishing her hammer, and the next she was gone, lying somewhere on the grass.

The six knights still standing attacked. Arland worked through them with methodical precision, crushing limbs, smashing bone, ramming his buckler into their joints. They swarmed him, and he broke them one by one, until they could no longer move. It was a cold, controlled rage, harnessed and channeled into carnage.

Finally, only Tellis and Arland remained standing. Arland bled from a cut on his left temple. Gouges and dents marked his armor. The right side of his jaw swelled. Maud feverishly tried to remember all the hits he had taken. There was no way to tell if he was okay or bleeding inside that damn armor.

Tellis was breathing like he had run a marathon. A bruise darkened his left cheek. The armor over his left forearm had lost integrity, turning dull.

Arland dropped his buckler and attacked. His mace whistled through the air. Tellis blocked, letting the blow glance from his right sword, and stabbed with his left. The blade sliced a hair above Arland’s right shoulder. Arland lunged forward and punched Tellis. It was a devastating left cross. Tellis stumbled and Arland swung his mace into Tellis’ left arm. The groom shied back. Arland swung again and Tellis danced away.

They circled the battlefield, Tellis fast and agile, Arland unstoppable like a tank on a rampage.

They made a full circle.

Tellis kept backing up. Arland stalked him, but the other knight never let him get within reach.

Arland stopped and waited. Tellis stopped too.

The lawn was silent.

Arland took a step forward. Tellis took a step back.

Otubar called out, “It’s not a dance. Fight or get off the field.”

Tellis looked at the eight bodies lying on the grass. Some moaned, others simply lay still. His eyes were wide and glassy. Maud had seen that look before. It was the look of someone who had seen his own death. Tellis had forgotten this wasn’t a real battlefield. The urge to survive had taken over. He had nowhere to go. Back was dishonor; forward was Arland, pain, and death. So, like the bodies on the grass, Tellis held still.

Arland shrugged his massive shoulders, powered down his mace, turned his back to Tellis, and walked off the field. Maud let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

He stopped by the table, beat up and splattered with blood, and looked at her. You could hear a pin drop.

“We didn’t finish our discussion, my lady.”

Oh, she was more than ready to have a discussion. It would feature topics like Why the hell would you let nine knights pummel you? and What were you thinking? If he was bleeding internally, this was the only way for him to make a graceful exit. She had to get him out of here and out of that armor.

Maud rose, aware of every stare. “In that case, my lord, I suggest we retire to your quarters so we may carry out our debate in private.”

“I’d be delighted.” Arland extended his hand toward the path.

Maud bowed her head to Ilemina and Otubar. “My apologies.”

Ilemina waved at her. “Think nothing of it, my dear.”

Maud started down the path, aware of Arland only a step behind her.

“Ahh, young love,” Ilemina’s voice floated to her. “Where is our medic?”

As soon as they got to the tower and the door slid shut behind them, Arland swayed and sagged against the wall.

“You’re such an idiot,” she whispered through clenched teeth.

Arland smiled. “Maybe. But I won.”

Ugh. She had no idea how badly he was hurt. He probably didn’t know how badly he was hurt. They had to get him out of the armor. She could just pull it off him here. Every House crest contained the basic supplies necessary for emergency medical intervention. But if she took the crest off him now and applied it, he would have to remain stationary in this tower. They had to climb the stairs, cross the bridge, and get to either his room or hers and they had to do it with Kozor and Serak watching. Any show of weakness would dilute Arland’s victory.

The value of the beating he delivered wasn’t in the humiliation of Kozor and Serak. It was in fear and uncertainty. Both House Kozor and Serak came to the fight reasonably sure of what to expect. They had done their research, they had watched the fight in the Lodge, and they expected Arland to be a superior fighter. They didn’t expect him to be invincible. If he had been carried off the field by medics or had limped away obviously hurt, they could quantify it. “We almost beat him with nine knights; we can kill him with ten!” But he had crushed them and walked away like it was nothing. Now they didn’t know how many knights it would take, and they didn’t know how many Arlands House Krahr could field. They feared what they couldn’t see and didn’t know. Arland had to appear invulnerable.

She slid her shoulder under his arm. He leaned on her. His weight settled on her and her knees almost buckled. It was bad. He wouldn’t have put that much weight on her if he could have helped it. He had to be on his last legs.

Arland bared his fangs, his face grim. “Stairs.”

“One at a time, my lord.”

They staggered up the stairs.

“’The Road Lodge offered me seven,’” she growled in her best Arland voice.

“It’s true.”

“That was different. The fight in the Lodge was a brawl against bandits and scumbags in outdated armor. You could kill them. You went up against nine knights in prime condition, in good armor, and you couldn’t kill any of them without ruining the wedding. Who does that?”

“Well, sure, it sounds unwise when you put it like that. But I won.”

They paused on the landing. His breath was coming out in ragged gasps.

“Do you feel cold or drowsy?” she asked.

“I’m not bleeding out.”

“Well, we don’t know that, do we?”