Seven Black Diamonds (Seven Black Diamonds #1)(80)

Torquil met her gaze briefly. He made no gesture, but there was no need.

“Are you always so snappish, child?”

Violet barked a laugh that Lily now knew was a sort of self-defense. “Child? How old are you then?”

He smiled. “I stopped counting a few decades ago.”

“Eilidh is far too young for you then,” Violet snarked.

“We are fae, and she is of my age generation.” Torquil shook his head. “Have you been taught nothing of your people?”

Violet shrugged, but didn’t answer.

Creed, however, took pity on him. “She’s trying to get your goat.”

“My . . . goat?” Torquil scowled. “Why does she think I have a goat?”

Violet made a rude gesture at Creed, who blew a kiss to her.

“Lily?” Torquil prompted.

Before she could reply, she saw two faeries approaching. Torquil obviously saw them too as he stepped in front of her. Both were Seelie Court by birth, like Torquil, but in affect, they reminded her of Rhys. Their attitude was arrogant, and their gazes barely acknowledged the sword that Torquil had drawn.

“Please don’t be foolish,” he said by way of greeting as the two faeries walked up with swords already in hand.

“So this is the girl,” the larger of the two said, studying her as most people would assess the mud on their shoes. “At least she’s not as abhorrent as the broken one.”

Torquil looked at the other faery, the one who stood silent. “Nacton, please remind Calder not to do something foolish. The queen has sent this girl to see your father, her grandfather, our king.”

Nacton shrugged.

“Are you here then as an escort to take her to see Leith?” Torquil asked, although his tone made clear that he did not believe that to be the case.

In a low voice, Lily told Creed and Violet, “Stay back and let him do his job. They are undoubtedly far more adept at swords and affinities than we are.”

The two Seelie princes were studying Torquil, as if he were the only threat. There was no way they could know that Lily and her companions were trained to kill—and she was hoping not to have to demonstrate that truth to them.

“Uncle?” Lily said, not caring which of the two acknowledged her.

The slighter one, Nacton, stepped away from Torquil and turned to face her. He studied her with a curiously pensive expression.

Violet started, “Lily—”

“No,” she interrupted.

Behind Nacton, Lily could see Torquil assume the fool’s guard, his sword tip pointed at the earth, as he attempted to bait Calder. It wasn’t a particularly bad move, but she had thought it was an oddly transparent one when her coach had taught it to her. On the other hand, it might be perfect for woefully arrogant opponents.

Calder stepped in, his longsword lifted high and up in the falcone position.

Torquil’s ploy wasn’t a move that should’ve worked, but Calder’s temper got in his way. He grew tired of waiting, stepped forward, and brought his sword downward from the right. The swords clanged together into the bind, and the fighters both tried to assess their opponent’s next move.

Unfortunately, Calder had the strong position.

Nacton leisurely struck at Lily, testing her like this was a class.

Fine then, she thought. She raised her weapon and went through cuts she’d learned in the old medieval manuscripts—in both German and Italian—that her father had procured for her. Nothing she tried earned more than the occasional smile from Nacton.

“Not completely useless,” Nacton acknowledged when she nicked his arm.

His strikes became aggressive, making her step back.

He drew blood on first her shoulder and then her leg. Neither was a deep cut. He was demonstrating that he could injure her.

When his sword tip grazed her hand, she stumbled.

Creed stepped toward them. “That’s enough.”

“Stay back,” she ordered.

Behind her, Violet and Creed were silent. She’d seen them struggling—wanting to help, but not wanting to do something that ended up distracting her or Torquil.

As she defended against Nacton’s cuts and swings, she turned round so that she could again see Torquil and Calder. They were both fighting aggressively. At the moment, Torquil seemed better poised. He transitioned into the ox—his sword jutting forward like the horn of a beast—and thrust forward.

But Calder leaned back, avoiding being impaled and allowing himself a moment’s respite. He swung back and brought the sword down in a clockwise arc. In barely the next moment, the point of Calder’s sword was plunging downward while simultaneously pushing Torquil’s sword to the left.

As Lily’s attention wavered from Nacton, he twisted his sword in such a way that her own blade was knocked out of her grasp. She met his eyes, and he smiled. “Foolish girl.”

There was a brief moment before the tip of Calder’s sword pierced Torquil’s side. Then, the flicker of hesitation was gone, and steel vanished into flesh. The sword’s tip pierced Torquil under his ribs on his left side.

“Are you going to kill me then? Kill us both? Kill us all?” She stepped back out of Nacton’s range, gaze darting to Torquil and then to Creed and Violet.

Nacton laughed.

Was she a threat to them? More importantly, did they think she was?