He hugged her fiercely, kissed her cheek, and let her go.
Kaitlyn watched as her parents embraced. The love between her mother and father was a palpable presence in the room. They gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment and then, between one breath and the next, her father was gone.
Unable to hold back her tears, Kaitlyn stared at the place where he had been standing and wondered if she would ever see him again.
“He’ll be all right,” Zack said, taking her in his arms.
“I know.” She drew a deep breath. For her mother’s sake, she had to stay calm and positive.
As was her wont when she was worried, Elena cleaned house. She didn’t ask for help, but Kaitlyn pitched in, glad to have something to do. They mopped the floors, they washed the windows, they stripped the beds and turned the mattresses. Elena cleaned the refrigerator. Kaitlyn scrubbed the stove.
Zack watched the women with envy, wishing he had a way to expend the nervous energy building inside him. He had never liked waiting, would have preferred to be at the Fortress, in the thick of whatever was taking place there. But leaving Kaitlyn and her mother unprotected was unthinkable.
And so he paced the floor hour after hour while the women scrubbed the castle from top to bottom as if their lives, and their sanity, depended on it.
Finally, needing to do something, he went outside and spent a few minutes chopping wood for the fireplace, wishing, all the time, that the ax was a silver-bladed sword and the log in front of him was Nadiya Korzha’s slender neck.
Drake stood outside the Fortress, his senses probing the night around him. His brothers and other relatives were near. He had warned them not to interfere unless he called them. He did not expect Lucien to meet him honorably; if he lost the battle in a fair fight, he had instructed Zack to flee the country with Elena and Kaitlyn and take refuge with his half sister in Russia in hopes that Nadiya would never find them. As for Liliana, he had no idea where she was. Liliana didn’t carry a cell phone. Hopefully, she was safe at home. He should have insisted she stay at the Fortress, but she had been determined to go to her own house, and there had been no stopping her once she made up her mind.
Striding toward the entrance of the Fortress, Drake wiped everything from his mind but the battle ahead. He knocked on the door, hard enough that he heard it echo inside.
One of Lucien’s sons bid him enter.
Drake pushed the man aside and strode down the corridor toward the council chamber.
The door stood open. Lucien sat in Drake’s chair on the dais. Nadiya stood beside him, looking regal in a long black gown. The chairs at the council table were filled with Lucien’s kin.
“I am here,” Drake said, his hand on the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. “Are you ready?”
Lucien looked fleetingly at Nadiya, then stood. “There is no need for us to fight.”
“There is every need.” Drake glanced at Nadiya, then back to Lucien again. “You have aligned yourself with a woman who is my enemy. You have usurped my rightful place by treachery. If you will not yield to me, then you will die, either on the field of battle, or now, in this room.”
The air in the chamber seemed to thicken as those assembled waited for Lucien’s answer.
Drake watched him through narrowed eyes. If Lucien refused to fight, he would be branded a coward, scorned by all who knew him.
“Answer him!” Nadiya hissed.
Lucien sucked in a deep breath. “I will meet you on the field of battle. Have you a second?”
“I do. He awaits outside.”
With a last glance at Nadiya, Lucien left the dais.
It was a solemn procession that made its way down the side of the mountain to the clearing below. Four men clad in black cloaks, each carrying a torch, led the way. Drake and Lucien followed the torchbearers. Because Drake did not trust Nadiya at his back, he had insisted that she walk at the head of the procession. Lucien’s second trailed behind.
When they reached the clearing, the four torchbearers formed a large circle. Drake and Lucien took their places in the center of the circle, facing each other.
Lucien’s second took a place outside the circle. A moment later, Stefan emerged from the trees and took up his position on the opposite side of the circle.
Nadiya stood apart, her long gray cloak billowing in the faint breeze.
One of the torchbearers walked to the center of the circle and stood between Drake and Lucien. “Lucien Muscarella, Master of the Carpathian Fortress,” he intoned, “be it known that Drake Sherrad, former Master of the Carpathian Fortress, has challenged your right to rule, claiming you have obtained it by treachery. He has come here this night demanding satisfaction. Should he be the victor, he will take possession of all your lands and holdings, both here and in Italy. Do you accept his challenge? Or concede?”
Lucien cleared his throat. “I accept.”
“Francisco Muscarella. Stefan Sherrad. You have been chosen as seconds. Step forward.”
Francisco and Stefan did as bidden, bowed to the torchbearer, and then returned to their respective places outside the circle.
“All those required to be in attendance are here present,” the torchbearer said solemnly. “Let whatever blood is shed this night be done with honor.” And so saying, he returned to his place in the circle.
A low, keening wind sprang up, rattling the leaves of the trees. The torches flickered erratically, sending dancing shadows across the ground.
Drake stared at his opponent. He could almost taste Lucien’s fear, his reluctance to fight. “Yield to me, Lucien, and I will spare your life.”
Drake had no doubt that, had Nadiya not been present, Lucien would have surrendered.
Lucien wiped his palms on his trousers. Opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. With a mighty cry, he lunged at Drake, his sword hissing through the air.
Uttering a battle cry of his own, Drake brought up his sword, parrying Lucien’s thrust. The ringing sound of metal striking metal rose in the air, along with the dust stirred by the combatants. Lucien circled Drake warily, testing the strength and mettle of his opponent. He roared with triumph when his blade found its mark and he drew first blood.
Drake paid little heed to the pain of the wound or the blood running down his arm, his only thought to destroy the man in front of him, to reclaim the Fortress that was rightfully his, to protect the women he loved. So long as he lived, they lived.
Spurred by fear, Lucien lunged and parried frantically.
Drake fought coolly, slowly wearing down his opponent. He had no thought for those who watched. No thought for his wounds. For this moment in time, Elena and Kaitlyn had ceased to exist. There was only Lucien and the need to destroy him.