Chapter 40 - The Trap is Set

Duarte knew he had been caught, but surrender had never been in his nature. His muscles coiled as he sprang forward, twin daggers flashing in the dim torchlight. His target was clear—Lusweti's throat.

Lusweti met him with steady eyes and sharper steel. His sword cut through the air, intercepting Duarte's first strike in a shower of sparks. The force of the parry sent a jarring vibration through Duarte's wrists, but he barely hesitated, twisting to attack from a different angle. He was fast, almost impossibly so, his daggers a blur as he aimed for Lusweti's ribs, then his side, then his heart.

But Lusweti was disciplined, precise. He met every attack with the same ruthless efficiency he brought to battle. Instead of matching speed with speed, he let Duarte's aggression overextend him.

A missed lunge. A fraction of a second too long to recover.

Lusweti's sword shot forward, cutting into Duarte's shoulder. Not deep, but enough to stagger him. First blood.