He watched the muscles in Croy’s neck tighten. “I am not a liar, by inclination or by practice,” the knight said. “But I was left with no choice.”

“Speak plainly!”

Croy sighed. “Don’t you understand? If I’m to recover Cythera’s trust, I must earn it. I must be the one who frees her and her mother.”

“I’ve been generous enough to let you play a part, but that’s all,” Malden pointed out.

“The role you’ve set for me in your scheme is meaningless. I am to stand as a lookout, and nothing more. How can that show Cythera the depth of my devotion to her? It should be me fighting for her freedom. It should be my arm, my sword, that strikes the telling blow. And no other man has a right to fell Bikker. That is my duty, and I will perform it.”

“You’re wounded,” Malden said. He did not allow the point of his bodkin to shift even a fraction of an inch. “Even at the fullness of your strength, you’re no match for Bikker. He would have bested you up at the palace if the demon there hadn’t diverted his attention. He would have killed you then. Are you so hot to die at his hand now?”

“Love will strengthen my arm,” Croy said. “Justice will be my shield.”

Malden chuckled, and the point of his knife bobbed up and down, just a hairbreadth. Apparently it was enough.

Croy shifted under Malden too fast to follow. One of his legs kicked out and knocked Malden’s feet from under him, and the thief fell backward against the bed. It was all he could do to stop his fall with his free hand, while keeping the bodkin pointed in Croy’s direction.

Before he had recovered himself, Croy was looming over him with his shortsword in his hand, the point just under his chin. The blade shone so bright Malden could see his own shocked expression in its surface.

“I may be wounded. I’m still an Ancient Blade. You can mock my ideals all you want, thief. You can’t deny my skill.”

“I suppose not,” Malden said. “Very well. Who am I to deny you your own destruction? You fool. Maybe you’ve cost us everything by this deception.” He wanted to spit in disgust.

“I can slay Bikker. I must!”

“As you wish it. Take the ogre’s place. Die, if that’s what you want. As long as you survive a minute against the retainers, that’s all I need.”

“You’ll find that even if I’m not as strong as Gurrh, when it comes to swordplay I am matchless. Anyway, you have no choice.” Croy lowered his sword. “It’s almost time to begin,” he said. “There’s no time to find a replacement. Not even a band of bravos.”