Duel of Fire (Steel and Fire Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

jogged after him, leaving the warm lights of the parlor behind.
    “You must make me proud today,” Berg said.
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “He is fast. Remember this.”
    “Yes, Coach.”
    “He has good reach. And don’t let the fact that he is a prince intimidate you. If you get a chance to whip him, you take it.”
    “Yes, Coach.” Despite herself, Dara had begun to feel nervous. She wasn’t sure how a simple Fireworker’s daughter was expected to act around the heir-prince of the mountain. Fireworkers were important figures in Vertigon, but they were not members of the royal court like the favored landowners. Even so, Dara was determined to win. She couldn’t let some noble defeat her, no matter how high up he was. Not if she wanted to call herself a real duelist.
    The castle entrance was over a hundred steps above the next highest building, making it an easily defensible position. Dara and Berg ascended the final stairway and arrived at the wide stone slab in front of the castle gates. Dara slung her gear bag to the ground for a moment and rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks. She’d better not get injured today or Berg would really owe her. Nothing was worth messing with her chances to win the Cup, not even a dueling prince.
    Berg rapped on a small sally port beside the main gates. A guard wearing the Amintelle sigil on his chest opened the door and let them in immediately. Beyond the walls, the ground sloped upward across an uneven courtyard, all rock until it reached the base of the three-towered castle. A delicate vein of Fire-infused metal ran along the lower wall. In the half-light of the dawn, the castle appeared to be floating on the vein. The castle door was a solid piece of steel wrought with designs every bit as intricate as the ones Dara’s father used on his lanterns. Dara caught a glimpse of a crowned figure etched atop a fiery mountain as the doors swung open to admit them.
    The entrance hall was tall and bare, with Fire Lanterns hanging from the walls. A handful of servants darted around on soft-slippered feet, polishing the floors and opening the shutters on the high, narrow windows to let in the morning sunlight. They barely glanced at Berg, despite his imposing presence. The guard nodded at them and returned to his post, closing the doors behind him. Berg led the way deeper into the castle.
    Across the entrance hall and halfway down a narrower corridor, Berg stopped at an oak door with an ornate iron handle. He looked down at Dara and said, “Give him hell.”
    “Yes, Coach.”
    Then he opened the door, and they walked into the most beautiful room Dara had ever seen.
    It was a perfectly formed dueling hall. Four windows facing southward allowed the morning light to cut evenly across the dueling strip. The floor was stone with the ideal level of polish, neither too slippery nor rough enough to wear down good dueling boots. A padded stretching rug was positioned beside an elegant wardrobe, with a partially open door revealing a jumble of jackets, gloves, and masks. Two chairs and a stone washbasin sat beside the wardrobe. At the far end of the room stood a row of practice dummies in different positions. Dara couldn’t count the number of times she had cursed her own practice dummy as she tried to reposition its heavy wooden arm for a new drill. In this room she could move rapidly down the line and start over again.
    The ceilings were high, and a balcony jutted out above the stretching rug directly across from the windows. Dara guessed there were seats up there. Spectators would have a perfect view of the action on the strip.
    A rack on the wall by the door displayed one of the most impressive weapon collections Dara had ever seen. There was a sword from each of the major smiths, evidenced by the unique designs of their guards. There were different hilts and pommel types and even two experimental light broadswords. The dueling officials had discussed adding broadswords to select