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.
38
“James? James!” The shriek that burst from Rissa’s throat felt like a knife tearing through her flesh. She ran to where the big Kindred lay, facedown in the grass. He didn’t seem to be breathing. She couldn’t bear to look at the hole in his back—it wasn’t much larger than a coin, but it was so close to his spine and, most probably, his heart.
The bullet must have hit his heart and torn right through it, Rissa thought numbly, as she stroked the copper-toned velvet coat that the big Kindred wore over his usual uniform of monochrome black. Oh, Goddess, he’s dead…he’s dead and it’s all because of me!
“James,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “Oh, James, I’m so sorry…”
“A simple mistake. I had thought you said ‘ten’ Flobberton,” she heard Duke Grabbington say, as the two men approached James’s fallen form. “In fact, I am quite certain you said ‘ten.’ So let’s hear no more about it!”
“But…but this is an affair of honor!” Lord Flobberton was protesting. “Your Grace asked me to act as your second in order to make certain all the rules were properly obeyed. And then you shot the man in the back!”
“I most certainly did not!” Duke Grabbington denied angrily. “And if you go saying anything of the sort anywhere around the Court, you’ll be sorry, Flobberton. As far as you’re concerned, the duel went off as planned and I shot on ‘ten.’”
“No, you didn’t!” Rissa looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She might have expected this kind of stress to cause her Heat Cycle to kick up but strangely, she felt ice-cold instead. “You didn’t shoot on ten,” she said to the Duke, glaring up at him. “You cheated! You are a liar and a cheat and a coward!”
“Now, now, my dear,” the Duke said, smirking at her, his mustaches twitching. “Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”
“I shall never marry you!” Rissa spat at him. “You killed the man I love!”
“The man you love? Oh, ho! Now we come to it!” the Duke exclaimed. “So you’ve fallen in love with your guard, have you, Princess? But it was my understanding that Sir Robot there was…nothing but a robot.” He nudged James’s limp form with one foot and made a grimace of distaste.
“Do not touch him!” Rissa flared. She was dimly aware that other people were approaching the dueling field—which was not far distant from the palace—but she didn’t care. “Yes, I love him!” she snapped at the Duke. “He is twice the man Your Grace will ever be, for all that he is part robot.”
“Why, you little tease!” the Duke snapped. “And after the way you’ve been leading me on…”
“I never made any secret of the fact that I want nothing to do with you!” Rissa snapped at him. “You are a loathsome little man who reeks of Port and wet cigarillos. It turns my stomach even to look at you!”
This statement provoked a murmuring behind her and she was vaguely aware that the people coming from the palace had reached them. There weren’t too many—a few lower servants and Lady Manderly’s personal lady’s maid—but that was plenty enough to spread the word of what had happened here today.
She turned to them, her eyes still streaming tears.
“Listen to me, all of you,” she shouted. “I hate Duke Grabbington and I will reject his suit. He shot my guard, Sir James, in the back, in cold blood. He is a murderer and a coward!”
“How dare you say such lies!” The Duke’s face had gone purple as he reached for Rissa to try and shut her up. He grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her up, though she fought to be free.
“Let go of me! Unhand me,” she exclaimed.
The servants and the lady’s maid all had eyes as big as saucers as they watched this, but of course none of them could do much considering her attacker was a Peer of the Realm. To even lay hands on the Duke would be a hanging offense for any one of them.
“I say, Grabbington, you must not accost the Princess in this way,” Lord Flobberton protested, frowning. “She is a Royal, after all.”
“I shall be a Royal too, as soon as we marry!” Duke Grabbington snarled. “I shall take this little minx to the Steward this minute and she will accept my suit or I shall tell everyone that she has been compromised! Not by me,” he added quickly. “But by that huge Kindred robot—whom I had to shoot in order to save Her Highness’s honor.”