Zenith's armored knuckles struck Victor's flesh with a satisfying thud, knocking the human off his feet. The basket spilled from his arms and crashed to the floor, spilling rope everywhere.
"What the – what the – " Mirage shrieked, clutching his face. But Zenith couldn't care less about the demon. He marched past Mirage, every step echoing in his ears.
Kicking aside the ropes in his way, he stopped above Victor. Victor had hauled himself to his knees and was wiping the blood from his mouth. Glaring down at him, Zenith snapped, "Care to say that again?"
Victor stared evenly back. Even with his face swollen and bleeding, his gaze remained impassive. "Does this make you feel better?"
And he was still condescending to Zenith. Fury roaring in his chest, Zenith seized Victor by the collar.
Victor didn't struggle, not even when Zenith hit him again on the other side of the face. Then in the stomach, once, twice. Doubling over, the wizard coughed out more blood.
"What's the matter? Fight back!" Zenith snarled, hauling Victor higher. "Or is even that beneath you?"
Victor raised a trembling hand. Zenith tensed, but all Victor did was scrabble uselessly at his wrist. Disgusted, Zenith flung Victor against the wall. The wizard hit the metal with a bone-thudding impact before sliding limply to the floor.
"Fight back, coward!" Zenith yelled. "We'll see who's truly the strongest!"
After all, they'd never gotten to settle their score. Maybe now, at long last –
But when Victor shook his head, hair flying all over his face, Zenith's rage became incandescent. He lunged again, seizing a fistful of Victor's shirt. But before he could move, he felt a sharp tug on his cape.
Whirling around, he saw Mirage clinging to the end of the cape. The demon's eyes were wild with panic, face almost gray. "Stop it, you savage! He doesn't even have his armor on! Or is beating up helpless opponents what knights do now?"
Snarling, Zenith shook Mirage off and drove an elbow into his sternum for good measure. With a groan, the demon slammed to the floor.
A flash of movement from behind. Zenith lifted his arm just in time to block Victor's blow. Undaunted, the human clamped his hand around Zenith's forearm while aiming his other fist at Zenith's face.
Zenith caught it with his free hand, though the impact jolted through his arm. And Victor kept pushing against him, face contorted in fury.
"Finally taking it seriously, are you?" Zenith hissed. "Now put on your armor!"
Victor growled, the tendons in his throat straining. "I don't need my armor for this."
So he still wanted to mock Zenith? He would regret it. Lifting his leg, Zenith drove his knee into Victor's unprotected stomach. Victor spasmed and let go of Zenith, collapsing to the floor.
Zenith wasn't done. He raised his foot, prepared to kick Victor in the shoulder –
But all of a sudden, the human vanished. Zenith lurched, staring in disbelief at the empty corridor in front of him.
Not for long. Realizing what had just happened, he spun toward Mirage. The demon glared back.
"Too bad for you, huh?"
Zenith marched toward him. "Release the illusion. This instant."
Face twisting, Mirage spat at him.
Zenith reached out, prepared to grab him by the collar – only for a tremendous weight to slam into his leg. Losing his balance, Zenith crashed onto his hands and knees. As Mirage scampered out of his way, the faint scent of rose petals cut through the coppery stench of blood.
Shaking the sweat-drenched hair out of his face, Zenith glanced over his shoulder. Victor had become visible again, clinging to his leg while glaring at him with perfect hate.
A harsh laugh bubbled in Zenith's chest. Yes, this was it – just the way Victor ought to look at him.
As he flipped over, trying to kick Victor off his leg, a series of rapid thuds echoed down the corridor. As they grew louder, Zenith realized what they must be.
Footsteps.
Ice jolted through his core. Before he could climb to his feet, the source of the footsteps appeared. A small group of people, including – his chest lurched – Theo.
And leading them was his liege herself, her eyes burning with a fury he had never before seen from her.
His rage fled in an instant, leaving behind an aching void of horror and shame. All he could do was sit there, still tangled with Victor. Ropes scattered across the floor like dead snakes. Droplets of blood flecked the scene, shockingly bright. Including – his stomach swooped – on his own knuckles.
But nothing hurt as much as Darian's glare, scorching so hot he felt as if it was burning him alive.
"What," she said, low and taut, "is going on here?"
Before Zenith could even think to speak, Mirage leaped to his feet. "Isn't it obvious? Your oh-so-loyal knight went rabid and damn near killed Victor!"
As he spoke, horror quivered through Zenith's Levia – but it didn't belong to him. No, this came from across the contract.
But he couldn't look at Theo. Not just because he didn't want to see the disappointment on his wizard's face, but because he couldn't tear his eyes away from Darian.
"Is this true, Sir Zenith?"
"It is! I'm not lying!" Mirage howled, but Darian didn't pay him any attention. It was as if her world had shrunk down to Zenith, cowering before her with the incriminating blood on his knuckles.
She was asking him. He...he could say that Victor had provoked him, perhaps even revealed his intention to betray the crew....
But the prospect only deepened the shame already eating a hole through his chest. What was wrong with him? He had already behaved dishonorably enough; would he stain himself further by telling such a blatant lie?
So he lowered his head, staring at Darian's feet so he wouldn't have to see her disappointment. He felt it well enough anyway.
"It...it...it is true, my liege." His voice came out a cracked whisper.
"I see." Her voice shuddered. "So if I'm hearing correctly, you beat a fellow crew member bloody without any provocation."
Something snapped inside Zenith then. "He is not a fellow 'crew member!' He will betray you, both of them will! I know it! And you must know it too!"
"Sir Zenith!" Darian's shout sliced through his ramblings like a sword. "Haven't we been through this already?"
"Forgive me, my liege," Zenith growled, "but I still – I just can't see how you can – "
"Enough! I understand you dislike these two. Believe me, I don't care for them either. But so far, they've done absolutely nothing to harm anyone here."
Stupidly, foolishly, Zenith tried to argue. "They want you to think that – "
"Do you think I'm an idiot? Is that it?"
"No! Of course not, my liege," Zenith protested.
"Oh, really. Because from the way you're acting, you clearly don't trust my judgment."
The accusation lanced through Zenith's gut. Hands trembling, he stared at the floor. "That's – that's not true, my liege. I always trust you."
'Even when you don't trust me. Even when you lied to me this entire time.'
"Then act like it, Sir Zenith!" Darian barked. "Prove that you actually trust me, instead of just saying it. Well?"
Zenith swallowed, sweat trickling down his brow. When Darian spoke in such a tone, thunderous with command, there could be but one response. So he lowered into a bow, forehead almost touching the floor, and murmured, "Forgive me, my liege. I will not dishonor you again."
"That's a start. But I'm not the one who deserves your apology the most."
An icy knife twisted between Zenith's ribs. He knew exactly what she meant, but every atom of his being rebelled against it. The day he debased himself by apologizing to his enemies –
But he'd already debased himself enough, hadn't he? And they weren't enemies. Darian had made that more than clear. If he possessed any honor as her knight, then he had no choice but to swallow his selfish pride.
He forced in as deep a breath as his tight throat could manage, then rose to his knees and slowly, reluctantly, turned around. He could feel the others' eyes burning into him – Darian's stern and cold, Theo's filled with worry. But right now, all he could focus on were the demon and wizard in front of him.
Curling his hands into fists, he bowed low. "I apologize for my disgraceful behavior. I harmed you and dishonored my liege. Please forgive me."
It was the right thing to say, but that didn't make it hurt any less. In a perverse way, he was glad he had lowered his head. At least it would keep anyone else – most of all these two – from seeing the heat searing in his cheeks.
"Good," Darian snapped. "Now get up. You're confined to your quarters for the rest of today."
"By your will, my liege," Zenith whispered.
"All right. Sam, Theo, can you take these two to the infirmary? I'll listen to your side of the story once you're patched up."
Her tone was brisk, without a trace of the fury she had rained upon Zenith moments earlier. But no matter how long he lived, Zenith would never forget it.