The Rogue Guardian

Chapter 62: Duel on the River

So Joshua told me that he thought Roman had sold him out in exchange for an alliance with Englescroft, and then he told me that he didn't kill Jaden. He gave me a reason to sympathize with poor, betrayed Joshua Coal, and then insisted, before I had accused him of anything, that he wasn't responsible for Jaden's disappearance.

How convenient.

"Interesting," I told him, letting the knife hidden in my sleeve drop into my palm. "I don't believe you." I stabbed for his chest.

He jumped away, his own knife appearing like a flash of silent lightning as I nearly stabbed the wood railing. I spun around quick enough to counter his strike, but he — he wasn't fighting back.

He stayed where he was, just out of reach, slightly crouched and watching me warily. I snarled, and he only muttered under his breath in response. "You've got anger issues."

I matched his stance, my heartbeat speeding up. "And you're a murderer."

"That goes without saying. I'm an assassin." He seemed to draw away slightly, his eyes narrowing. "But I didn't kill anyone you'd care about."

Part of me was inclined to believe him. The other part of me wanted to heave his dead body into the river. It suddenly seemed ridiculous that I had managed to stay so calm for this long, managed to barely think about what he might have done. But no matter. I would make it up now. The river was perfect for disposing of the messy remains of what was about to happen, anyway.

"You're a liar too," I said, hurling my knife.

He slid to the other side of the boat with unnatural speed, avoiding my second throw as well.

I pivoted, keeping him in range as I slid my third knife free. "And you've trapped yourself on here with me," I added, "Which was pretty stupid."

"No sane person comes within ten feet of you," he responded flatly. "But the only stupid person on this boat is the one trying to become a murderer."

"According to your logic, I already am." I was an assassin. Time to remember that.

I feinted a throw that would drive my throwing knife into his right side, then threw left as he dodged in that direction. The blade hit him in motion and he hit the floor of the deck —

I cursed, watching my best throwing knife fly over the rail. He'd ducked first.

Enough throwing.

Even as he began to rise, I crashed into him, knocking his knife out of his hand. I heard his head hit the ground with a crack, but he stayed conscious. I forced his left arm to the ground with one hand, ripping the last dagger from my belt with the other. He brought his right arm up just fast enough to block a stab to the heart that couldn't have missed — for a paralyzing moment we were locked together, grit teeth and straining muscles.

That should have been my queue to win. We were evenly matched in strength and I had the upper hand.

But I hadn't had proper training with the guards in two months, and he had just finished five years as captain and training master Joshua Blaisze.

He didn't look scared.

There was another knife in his left hand. I felt his muscles strain beneath my hard grip as he tried to raise his dagger, and made a split second decision.

I threw myself to the side, hoping to be the first one to get to my feet — but I had rolled away in instinctive panic, while he jumped up with complete control. My foot slipped, landing me back on the ground as he hurtled toward me —