Bloodbound [Alpha-series (II)]

Chapter 12

Without warning, my vision began to blur from the edges. When I could see clear again, I found myself in the middle of a heated sword fight. I was attacked over and over again, but I managed to dodge every strike, either using my own sword or shifting out of harm’s way. Taking the offensive was out of the question since it was Ludwig I was sparring against. Surrendering wasn’t an option either – my brother would gladly jump at such an opportunity to wound me, claiming he hadn’t grasped what I intended to do. Multiple scars on my body paid testament to that.

My brother’s next advance brought us almost face to face. I blocked with ease, realizing too late I had played right into his hands. A devilish smirk, then Ludwig lowered his stance and slightly moved his arms upward, causing my blade to skid closer to the unprotected upper part of his neck instead of further away. The move was so unexpected that my sword had already drawn blood by the time I regained control over the heavy metal again. The cut wasn’t deep, just a minor injury that was common for such sword practices. Facts and logic, however, meant little when one held the power to twist them at ones will – which my brother excelled in.

A pained gasp left his mouth as he stumbled away from me. His hand flew to his neck, clasping the wound, while he pulled on a mask of shock and fear. I would have almost believed it genuine myself had I not seen that treacherous smirk of his. Throwing me a chiding glance that left no doubt I was in big trouble, our instructor ran up to Ludwig, three maids in tow.

“My Lord, are you alright?”

“Don’t worry, Sir Grey.”

The words came out a throaty rasp, the art of manipulation at its best.

“I can handle that much.”

“Please allow the servants to escort you to your chambers while …”

Sir Grey’s statement was cut short by the desperate screams of multiple servants.

“Your Grace, please wait for us!”

“Your Grace…!”

The Duchess dashed towards the training grounds, her lavish skirts pulled up by her hands to prevent her from stumbling over them. When she laid eyes on the blood that seeped through Ludwig’s fingers, she sank to the ground.

“Your Grace, stay with us!”

A maid knelt down beside her, helping to hold her mistress upright.

“My son … quick … a doctor … We … We need a doctor!”, stepmother sobbed into her silken handkerchief. When her eyes finally landed on me, my skin pricked in primitive warning. Those emotionless blue orbs promised vengeance, called for my suffering.

“Lock that bastard in his room and keep him there. I will see to his punishment later.”

The demand was uttered in a quiet, arctic tone that sent shivers down my spine. Rough hands grabbed my arms and forcefully ushered me to the castle.

After hours of tense waiting, my stepmother made true to her promise. She entered my chambers accompanied by a priest, an old man dressed in a white gown with a red cape draped around his shoulders.

“This …” A slow, derogative wave with the hand in my direction. “… is the child that is in league with the devil?”

He cast me a wary look.

“Yes, your Eminence.”

Her voice trembling, the Duchess wiped away an imaginary tear.