at his embarrassment. “He’s informed me, yes,” said Arcturus, pushing his chair back. “And I’ve run him through all the magical tests I know of and found no trace of memory manipulation, magical compulsion, alchemical drugging, love charms, or mental drainage, so I must accept him at his word.”
He really didn’t think much of me. Sure, his grudge was technically aimed at Cly Redbriar, not me. But I was the one who got pinned under his freaky drunk brother and got in trouble for it, not her. So it rankled all the same.
“Now,” Arcturus continued, “it’s time to work out the terms of the duel.”
“You’re not going to call it off.” I said flatly. “Despite knowing that it was all a misunderstanding.”
Arcturus leaned back in his chair, face impassive, eyes cold. “Why would I?”
I smiled thinly; I’d expected as much. Arcturus would lose face if he retracted his challenge after delivering it in front of members of half the Great Houses. So why would he, when he was the most powerful mage alive, confident of winning the duel? His victory would avenge the humiliation of his father twenty years ago, and serve as the ultimate sign of the ascension of House Nightfeld above House Redbriar.
The Nightfeld brothers were bullies. Handsome bullies, and ones I shared a mutual enemy with, but bullies nonetheless. To them, strength was more important than justice, and advantage was more important than fairness. Let this serve as a reminder to me.
When dealing with bullies, I had to project confidence. “Well, then, let’s begin. Do you mind if I pull up a chair?”
“There are no other chairs,” said Arcturus.
I knew the suite furnishings from my own room. There was another chair in the bodyguard’s room, whose connecting door was currently shut. He’d left it there despite knowing I’d come by today, intending to keep me standing, keep me snubbed and off-balance. The game had already begun.
Well, two could play at petty breaches of etiquette. It wasn’t like my mom and I hadn’t dealt with worse at Redbriar Manor. I walked over, pushed the papers on Arcturus’s desk aside, and perched myself in their place. “I’ll permit you to keep your chair,” I said, smiling innocently as the muscles around Arcturus’s eye gave a tiny twitch. “Now, for location, I’m fine with the dueling grounds in the gymnasium.”
“I have no objection to that,” said Arcturus with a nod.
“As for date and time… how about a month from now?” I tried to keep my tone casual.
But Arcturus’s eyes narrowed immediately. “A suspiciously long gap between duel and challenge. Are you hoping I’ll lose interest in the meantime? Or are you counting on outside intervention to prevent the duel? I will not accept a date after midterms of this semester.”
I scowled. That was not ideal. “The weekend before midterms, then. Sunday, at noon.”
Arcturus nodded slowly. “Very well. And the format of the duel?”
He was probably expecting me to try asking for a duel by champion. Instead I said, “Group duel, three on three.”
Arcturus raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised. Do the Redbriars have three willing combatants at this school, even including yourself?”
I rolled my eyes at that jab at our family’s current fortunes. “We will, as long as you’re willing to count Aegis.”
“Your Spellbreaker bodyguard? I’ll permit it.”
Arcturus said it surprisingly readily, given that Spellbreakers were powerful in a duel. That showed how confident he was in his own abilities. “Deal,” I said, desperately hoping I hadn’t miscalculated. “Well, that was easy.”
“Now, if you’ll permit me to write out the terms of the duel,” said Arcturus, with a meaningful look at where I was sitting.
I sighed and got off the desk, letting Arcturus take out pen and parchment. Even duels involved paperwork nowadays.
“Clytemnestra of House Redbriar and Arcturus of House Nightfeld hereby consent to duel over a matter of the honor of their respective houses…” I read over his shoulder. “A matter of honor. Very euphemistic. Your handwriting is amazing, though.” Arcturus ignored me.
As Arcturus continued to write, in calligraphy so neat it looked like it came out of a printer, my gaze wandered over his desk. He’d taken care not to leave any important paperwork out for me to see, just a few pages of incomprehensible legalese fine print that I couldn’t hope to understand at a quick glance. More interesting was the framed photo tucked behind them. It stood at an odd, crooked angle, as if it had been turned toward the wall, only to have gotten turned partway