Burning for Love by Evangeline Anderson

37

“Ido not like this! I do not like it one bit!” Rissa paced anxiously in the grey, early morning light, her skirts swishing in the long grasses of the dueling field. In just a few hours, she must appear before the Steward and formally reject the Duke’s suit. That was, if there was a suit to reject. It would depend upon how the duel went but something told Rissa she couldn’t trust the outcome.

James raised an eyebrow at her.

“Are you afraid I’ll lose? I assure you, Princess, I have been well trained in any and every kind of weapon and combat.”

“Are…are you planning to rip his throat out with your fangs, as you threatened before?” Rissa whispered. The fangs in question had shrunk back down to normal teeth after the altercation, but she couldn’t get the memory of James with those frightening fangs out of her mind.

The big Kindred shook his head.

“No, I will use whatever weapon he chooses. I think the fangs only grew because I was going into Rage at the idea of the bastard hurting you.” His face grew fierce for a moment, the blue eyes glowing briefly red. “I have Blood Kindred DNA in my biological makeup as well as Beast Kindred DNA, you know,” he added.

“I suppose,” Rissa murmured. But it wasn’t the fangs that worried her so much now as the idea of the upcoming duel. “I still do not feel right about letting you duel for my honor,” she told James. “I feel like all of this is my fault.”

“None of it is your fault,” James said, frowning. “And please don’t worry, Princess—no matter what weapon the Duke chooses, I will kill him.”

“I know you will—if it is a fair fight,” Rissa said anxiously. “But I do not trust the Duke to fight fairly. He is a man without honor, James!”

“He’s soon going to be a dead man,” James said confidently. “Don’t worry, Princess—I can handle anything he tries.”

Rissa wished she could be as confident as the big Kindred. But she had a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach that the impending duel was a bad idea. She and James had sat up most of the night, arguing about it. But just as she opened her mouth to voice more objections, Duke Grabbington rolled up in a fine off-road sedan.

The Duke’s vehicle was gold and gaudy and even grander than the Royal carriage she and James had come in. Clearly, Grabbington was showing off his wealth and privilege.

The golden door opened and the Duke descended, followed by a doctor in a buff blue medical coat and another nobleman whom Rissa didn’t recognize. He was carrying a large leather case which probably contained the dueling weapons, she realized with a shudder.

“Greetings, Princess.” Duke Grabbington waved at her airily, as though they had met each other in the Public Park by happenstance.

He seemed a lot calmer than he had the last time Rissa had seen him, which made her even more worried. Did he have some dastardly plan up his floppy lace sleeve? But, no. Surely not even a man as wretched as the Duke would dare to dishonor the sacred tradition of the duel…would he?

She didn’t reply but only nodded back frostily, giving him the least polite greeting possible.

Duke Grabbington’s face darkened at her deliberate discourtesy, but he said nothing else to her. Instead, he turned to James.

“Sir Robot,” he said formally. “This is Dr. Dowdy, my personal physician and Lord Flobberton, who will act as my second.” He frowned. “But…where is your second, Sir?”

“I don’t need a second,” James said shortly. “I intend to kill you on the first shot.”

Duke Grabbington paled a little, but only shrugged.

“Very well—if you do not wish to have a second, you do not have to have one. You can check the weapons yourself, if you are so inclined.” He nodded at the man he had introduced as “Lord Flobberton,” and the man made a bow and opened the leather case to display its contents.

Inside were two old-fashioned looking pistols, such as people had used a hundred years ago or more. James looked at them and frowned.

“What weapons are these? I expected that we would be using blasters. Or maybe swords, given the nature of your society.”

“No, my dear Sir Robot, these are antique dueling pistols.” Duke Grabbington lifted one out of the velvet-lined case, handling it reverently. “Just feel the perfectly balanced heft of it! These have been in my family for five generations and no Grabbington has ever lost a duel while using them.”

“It will be a pity to break such a long tradition,” James remarked dryly. He picked up the other weapon and the scope on the side of his head came out and fitted itself over his right eye. He examined the pistol rapidly and then took the other from Duke Grabbington and examined it as well before handing it back. He nodded. “Everything seems to be in order. Shall we begin?”

“A moment, if you please, Sir Robot,” Dr. Dowdy said importantly, stepping forward. He was a fastidious little man with short gray hair and a rust-orange frock coat. “We have a few conditions before the duel can begin,” he said.

“What conditions?” James asked, frowning.

“Well…am I correct in thinking that your right arm is, er, mechanical?” the Doctor asked, raising his eyebrows.

James nodded.

“It has been enhanced with electrodes, nanites, and smart metal.”

“And that scope we saw you use to look over the dueling pistols,” the Doctor continued, gesturing to the right side of James’s head. “Is it not true that it enables you to have preternaturally excellent sight and therefore impeccable aim?”

James nodded.

“That would also be correct.”

“In that case, I must ask you not to use either of your, er, enhanced body parts during this duel,” Dr. Dowdy said. “Otherwise, how can this be a fair contest?”

“But you can’t ask Sir James to shoot with his left arm instead of his right!” Rissa exclaimed, speaking up for the first time. “He is right-handed!”

“Actually, I am equally skilled in combat with my unenhanced arm and hand,” James said mildly. “And I don’t need my scope to shoot straight.”

“Are you certain?” Rissa asked anxiously. “It doesn’t seem to me that what they are asking is fair!”

“It absolutely is!” Duke Grabbington exclaimed. “How am I to win in a fight against an enormous alien robot if we do not level the field a bit?”

“Maybe that is something Your Grace should have considered before challenging Sir James to a duel,” Rissa said tartly. “Or maybe challenging him was the only way you could think of getting out of the situation you had created when you threatened me, with your head still on your shoulders.”

“Why, you—” the Duke began, glaring at her.

“Enough.” James raised his metal hand to silence them both. “Can we please get on with the duel?” he growled. “We need to get this finished so that Princess Ka’rissa can appear before the Steward and announce that she is formally rejecting the Duke’s suit.”

“We’ll see about that,” Duke Grabbington snapped. “I am ready to fight you at any time, Sir Robot!”

James gave him a look of contempt.

“Just like you were ready to fight me in the Princess’s rooms, right? Well, just try not to piss yourself this time, Your Grace.”

Grabbington’s face turned positively purple but he only nodded at his second, Lord Flobberton. The other man nodded back and held out the pistol case again.

“Each shall choose a weapon,” he intoned. “When you are ready, gentlemen, we shall begin.”

The Duke and James both picked up their pistols and then the two of them moved to the center of the dueling grounds. It was a long, grassy corridor between two stately rows of trees which had been used for contests of honor for centuries. Rissa stood in the shade of one of the trees, her heart pounding in her throat. There was ice in the pit of her belly and she still felt instinctively that something was not quite right…

“Now then, gentlemen,” Lord Flobberton intoned. “The rules of dueling have remained unchanged for hundreds of years. Nevertheless, I shall state them here. Starting back-to-back, the two of you shall walk ten paces as I count them out. When I call out the last number—‘ten’—the two of you shall turn and fire at each other, each of you shooting to kill. May the best man win.”

Both men nodded and neither one said a word as they went to stand back-to-back. Rissa couldn’t help thinking how very mismatched they were. The top of Duke’s head barely came up to James’s shoulder blades, despite the four-inch heels His Grace was wearing.

The Lord Flobberton began to count.

“One…two…three…”

As the men paced away from each other, Rissa clasped her hands together nervously.

Oh, let James be all right! Let him win! Keep him safe! she prayed to the Goddess of Mercy. Do not let the Duke do anything awful to him!

“Four…five…six,” Lord Flobberton counted as the men continued to pace steadily, further and further away.

The feeling that something was not right was growing in Rissa, swelling inside her like a feeling of doom. Should she try to stop the duel? But what could she say that would keep them from fighting? What could she do to halt the deadly contest?

“Seven,” Lord Flobberton counted loudly. “Eight…Nine…T—”

Duke Grabbington turned and fired, hitting James directly in the center of his broad back.

Without a word, the big Kindred crumpled to the ground and lay still.