Inhale

Chapter 45 - Dance of Blades

"A man? My beauty...a man...."

"You could have chosen better words, mademoiselle," Phillip, who was now at a distance, sang, "Rather than an 'homme', he should be called a 'femme'. I mean, do you see what he's wearing?"

"Phillip, I am so close to cutting your little Frenchie head off right now," I scowled, glaring in his direction. "But shit, she's really going to kill me," I murmured, staring at the mess of brown and blue on the green grass. Looking back at the girl, I noticed her eyes were dilating and her hands were trembling. Suddenly, she grunted, and glared at me.

"You little shit!" she cried, and then leaped at me. In a nick of time, I parried her with my sword. They clashed, and the sound reverberated in the open room. She pushed for dominance, and I pushed for the sake of not getting sliced in half. Eventually, she stumbled back, but she still wouldn't let me go. She thrust her sword to my eye-level, and I deflected her attack once more.

To a bystander, it would appear that we were simply dancing together. But for us, it was a whirl to the death—whoever dared to miss a step would meet a bloody fate. In our secluded space, I was the one at a disadvantage.

Her body followed the thrusts of her blade, making her actions fluid and appear painfully easy. With every stride, her long locks followed behind her, obviously not a disadvantage for the meticulous lady. As we strode to the beat of our blades, the heart-wrenching tension made me want to fall to pressure. To my left, were rose bushes and to my right azaleas—I can't keep dodging to the side forever. If I mistepped, she could stab my side again. Or worse. She could plunge her blade through my heart. Unconsciously, I gulped, but then caught myself. This isn't the time to think about death—right now, I should be thinking about making it out alive.

However, like I predicted, my messy footwork was my downfall. I tripped over my two feet, tumbling to the scratchy, soft grass. Viola used it against me. Before she hit my head, I rolled out of the way. But I didn't escape. Though my head remained uninjured, she managed caught what was left of my clothes and dragged me down. Mounting me, her sword swung down—aiming to strike my heart. I deflected it. However, the power-struggle continued. Repeatedly, she tried to slash at my vitals: my heart, neck, head, etc. Each time we clashed, my hands trembled—I can't keep her off for very long. Biting my lip, I looked for something to help. However, my fate continued to look grim.

"Could use some help here, Phillip," I yelled, "I want to keep my head!"

In an instant, Viola was thrown off and my sword flung through the air. I looked up to see Phil, standing in all his glory. Before the sword reached the Earth, he grabbed it mid-air, and pointed it at the girl. I took the opportunity to run around the bush.

"Excusez-moi, mademoiselle, I think it's our turn to spar," he said, smirking, "and just for you, I'll drop my accent."

With that, they began their dance. Though they scorned each other, the way their swords danced together was vestige to their compatibility. Unlike my battle with Viola, theirs was elegant, and the battle appeared to almost be staged due to the way their bodies' fluidity. Like Viola, Phillip was destined to carry a sword—he had the same level of ability as a knight from medieval times.

A musky scent came into my focus. Before I could turn around, a calloused palm clamped over my mouth. I struggled against my capturer, but could do nothing as I was dragged into the shadows. Still, I continued to fight them. Eventually, I was leaned forward, and I had the opportunity to peer at the stranger. He was tall, gorgeous without a doubt, but held a dark glint in his maroon eyes.

"Let's see," the stranger said, looking down at me. He eyed me, and then looked up as if he had come to a conclusion based on my physique. "You're from the L.A., aren't you? I'll make sure she gets her revenge." In the distance, I saw Viola's shoulder get slashed by Phillip's sword. She groaned, and stumbled to the ground. In response, Phillip pointed his sword to her neck.

"How dare you do this to someone of royalty! Do you know who I am? I could lower your parents' status with a flick of a pen!" she shrieked, gripping her shoulder.

"Says the person who has killed to get where she's at," he replied. Viola, in response, looked up at him, agape. Scoffing, he asked, "What's with that look? You don't think anyone knows who you really are, Viola Keighley?"

"How," she trailed, "how do you know my real name?"

"I hate to do this to such a pretty girl, but you serve as a threat to the L.A. and you need to be eradicated," he said, paying no heed to her questions, "au revoir, Rose Raven."

He lifted his blade, ready to cut her head off. However, the mysterious stranger pulled me out of our "hiding spot". Clearing his throat, he drew the attention of the two competitors. Viola giggled, while Phil gazed at us in horror.

"I believe that's far enough," he said as we walked together. He drew his sword from his sheathe, and pressed the tip at my neck. I stared down at the shimmery blade. Once again, my reflection was reflected in it. Damn—fate was fucking with me again.

"Nice to know there's an aristocrat that lives with Princess Viola," Phillip replied.

"How about I strike a deal with you?" the other asked. "If you hand over my fiancée, I'll give you and your friend a five minutes to run away."

"I didn't know someone was willing to stick their dick in crazy."

"By all means, reject my proposal," he replied, pressing the blade deeper. Blood trickled down my throat. "Just remember: this man is a goner if you do."

Reluctantly, Phillip released her. She, in turn, came running towards us. The man shoved me to the side, and she took my place in his arms. I took the opportunity to run to Phillip's side, and he acknowledged me with a short nod.

"Howard!" she sobbed into his chest as he stroked her head. "I knew you would save me!"

"I'll always save you, Oya," Howard murmured into his ear.

"'Oya'?" Phil whispered, snickering, "Where the hell did he get that nickname?"

Annoyed by Phil's comment, Howard glared at us and told, "You have three hundred seconds."

"Alrighty then," Phillip simply said in response, and then peered at me. "Al, you're going to have to forgive me for this."

"For what?"

There was another sharp pain. My body once again began to sway, and I began to tumble. Before I hit the floor, Phil took me into his arms.

"Don't worry, you'll be safe," he trailed, "I promise."

I blanked out.