Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

that was lost in the throng of battle. Aveena’s strike didn’t drive me into the ground, break every bone in my body, or cut me in two; and from her expression, that’s what she expected. A wicked grin flashed across my face as I swept her blade away from me and lashed out. My speed caught us both by surprise, but she was still a noble Fae. She jumped back, and a slash that would have taken her leg off at the knee became a shallow cut. A cut that dripped silver, Fae blood onto the floor.

“First blood!”

I laughed like a madman, drunk on the power flooding my muscles and mind. The golden doubles echoed my glee, and all the resonating noises sounded super creepy; especially when mixed in with the screams of the dying. Fae and doubles were falling left and right. As I rolled away from Aveena’s next offensive, I saw a double take a pair of giant spears in the gut. It took one of the guards with it before falling still and dissolving into motes of golden light that vanished into nothing. The dead guard didn’t vanish. He voided his bowels and continued to bleed all over the floor.

The Lady of Winter sure as shit wasn’t sitting this one out. Titty still hanging out, she advanced into the fray. A half dozen doubles rushed her from one side. The Coldstone blazed with ethereal, blue light as she swung it toward them. All the doubles were flash frozen in place, and with the bulk of her staff, she smashed them into a million little pieces. She continued forward, kicking her own guards out of the way to get to the Trickster.

Unlike his doubles, he blazed with golden light. He danced around, the perfect mix of grace and power; cutting down guards and courtiers left and right. A small contingent of his less-luminous doubles followed him; protecting his blindside, and proving more than a match to the Lady of Winter’s personal guards. Despite their effectiveness, the Trickster was Ymira’s target, and I had other problems.

“Look at what you’ve done to me . . . again!” Aveena shrieked, using her sword more like a cudgel than blade. “All you had to do was kneel there and die. Why won’t you just die?”

I had a flashback to the trial by combat before my sight flared a warning. Half a dozen glamour daggers appeared in her hand as she chucked them at me. That left me in a pickle. I couldn’t use more than one power at once according to Lark, and now wasn’t the time to see if that had changed. I could switch off my current uber-boost for my Fae gifts, and conjure a shield, but there was no guarantee my troll-sized power could stand up to Aveena. The other option was to keep on fighting in my current state, but that left me with only the sword and my own speed to avoid the daggers.

I chose option two. I channeled the lightning in my veins into speed and agility. To my surprise, it worked. I dipped, dived, ducked, and dodged around blades that were suddenly moving a lot slower than they should. I was good; hell, I was great, but great wasn’t perfect. Burning pain spread through my left quad as I failed to completely dodge one of the daggers. I faltered, and another, deeper, pain radiated from my left bicep.

I howled in pain, but at least it wasn’t my sword-holding arm. Red blood joined the multicolored Fae gore coating the throne room, and Aveena smiled. Any injury in a fight of endurance could prove fatal. Of course, I took the moment to attack. People didn’t expect you to come at them when you were bleeding all over the place.

I unleashed a ferocious combination that had her backpedaling to keep me out of range. She was still twice my height, and I had to get inside her guard to even do any damage. Great new power or not, that put me at a disadvantage.

“Why won’t you get it through your thick skull, you fucking blueberry,” I pressed her nearly into the wall before she circled away. That put her back between me and someone who might put a knife in mine. “None of this is my fault. You’ve been a royal bitch with a giant-sized stick up your ass from day one. If you’d accepted my peace offerings; Chloe and Ser Frederick would still be alive, you wouldn’t be hip deep in shit, and your mom might not hate your guts so much. Just admit, for one second, that this is more than a little your fault.”

She answered me by screaming like a banshee. Her counter caught me off balance, and she lashed out; not with her sword like I expected, but with her foot. Even with my sight’s split-second warning, I wasn’t fast enough to dodge.

“You have more than one weapon,” Xamira’s advice came back to me about the time Aveena’s foot made contact with my sternum.

The kick, on top of making me puke my guts out, picked me up and tossed me across the room. I clipped the edge of the throne, spiraled out of control, and landed in a heap thirty feet away. I lost my sword in the process, and with it, whatever extra oomph the Trickster’s double had given me. Now, I was just a battered, broken, and bleeding dude in the middle of a melee I had no chance of surviving. Thankfully, self-preservation activated my Fae gifts before I turned into a popsicle. I was still pretty sure I caught hypothermia from the Coldstone across the room.

Across the battlefield, the Lady of Winter was pressing Golden Boy hard. He was down to a handful of doubles watching his back, and his armor was marred with dents and other people’s blood. The bottom of Ymira’s staff got past his