Royal Blood (ManxMan Fantasy Romance)

***3***

Rudra came on the dot. Daronghi heard the door open and slam shut, and then the footsteps firmly approaching. "The footsteps of fate!" he thought suddenly, not knowing whence this strange thought came. He licked his dry lips and forced himself to remain seated, not to jump to his feet in anticipation of Rudra's coming.

Chevalier Ruatta came into the Prince's bedroom and stopped at the doorway, his head hung low, his gaze dropped to the floor.

"Take off your clothes. Lie down," the Prince managed to say. He wanted it to sound commanding, yet it came out nearly pleading.

Rudra didn't move a muscle, and Daronghi himself came to him, thinking, "He must be feeling shy, I should cheer him up." The Prince felt something akin to tenderness. He reached out and gently raised Rudra's face by the chin. And met the green eyes alit with something altogether different than shame.

The young Chevalier brushed his hand off casually and said with freezing-cold courtesy,

"If I may be so bold, Your Highness, my sworn fealty to the House of Tisanneides includes no service of such kind. If you have nothing else to order, please, allow me to be on my way."

"You dare deny me?" the Prince slowly pronounced, not able to believe his own ears. "You, a mere nobody, deny me?"

Chevalier Ruatta's face changed in a heartbeat, as if shedding a mask. Now it was distorted with fury. He snarled,

"And you dare take people for your toys? You arrogant, spoiled brat!"

Infuriated, Daronghi uttered something unintelligible and took a wild swing at Rudra's face. Or rather tried and failed, because Rudra easily caught his wrist mid-way and slapped him across the face so hard, the Prince nearly lost his footing. He froze on the spot, as if struck by lightning, and only looked at Rudra with wild unbelieving eyes, clutching at his burning cheek.

No one had ever slapped him on the face before.

"Now what are you going to do?" Rudra openly sneered. "Call your guards, maybe, and order them to hold me?"

His tone of voice and those words full of contempt took Daronghi out of his stupor.

"We shall settle it here and now, between ourselves," he said through clenched teeth, turned and seized his rapier, hung on its shoulder belt across the chair. He was not in the habit of carefully leaving his weapon in its proper place, like any noble should be.

He drew the rapier from its sheath, and heard the same hissing of a blade being unsheathed from behind him.

"And what about the Dueling Code?" Rudra drawled, in the same insufferable tone of voice.

"To hell with it," Daronghi spat out as he swirled around and assumed the stand for attack. "I won't kill you, but as God as my witness, I'll make you beg for it!"

"We shall see about that, shall we not?"

And their rapiers clashed together. The bedroom was too small for fencing, but it occurred to neither of them to move somewhere more spacey, at least into the adjacent sitting room. Why, both of them were so thoroughly consumed by pure, honed rage, that their minds were quite free of any rational thought. All they did was dashing about the room, brandishing their rapiers, stumbling upon furniture, and the Prince didn't notice right away, how greatly Rudra surpassed him in fencing. And when he did notice, it was already too late. He was jammed into a corner, and his rapier, wrenched out from his hand with a trick blow, fell down on the floor.