Chapter 12 · Duel Him or Die a Coward

Victor's sword clears the scabbard with a hiss that cuts the noise in the square dead.

"You want to stand there and call my father a murderer," he says, "in front of half this county, you'd better be ready to back it with something other than paper."

"I've got paper," Ryan says. "Signed. Sealed. Witnessed by your own tax clerk, actually."

"Paper doesn't fight." Victor's smile doesn't touch his eyes. "Blood-debt claims get settled by combat. That's the law, Ashe, not mine. You want your claim to stand, you duel me. Right here. Right now. Or the magistrate tears that page up and you walk home a liar."

Someone in the crowd laughs. Ryan doesn't look for who.

Ivy's already moving, blood wet down her sleeve from the gate, blade still in her fist. "He doesn't have a combat gift. Everyone in this square knows that. You're not calling a duel. You're calling an execution."

"Someone should've thought of that before he opened his mouth about my family." Victor doesn't look at her. "The claimant fights. Not his hired girl. Not his steward. Him."

"I'll take his place.