Duel

“You’re dying,” she realized aloud.

“We’re all dying,” I said. “I’m just better at it.”

That terrible look of pity crossed her eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “Life’s not over.”

“That’s why you’re accepting the duel? Suicide?”

No. She still didn’t understand.

“I accepted the duel,” I said, “because I’m a man; because, for all his faults, Fredrick is also a man.”

“Men!” she decried.

“Men!” I cheered. “I won’t deny I hate Fredrick. Can’t stand to look at him. But I love him, love him enough to kill him.”

“What about me?” she said.

“I love you. I love you enough to die.”

She took my hand, kneeling beside my chair.

Leaning her head on my arm, she said, “Don’t, please.”

“Fredrick can’t do any harm to me,” I said. “But he can to you. I’m not going to live much past thirty, if the leeches are to be believed. Some days, I doubt I’m going to make it to sunset. He wants you. If he were a good man, I’d step aside. He’s an honorable man, but he’s not a good man. Virtuous, not moral. I’m vicious. Only my name put me in their company, and only my cunning has kept me there. They know; they hate me; they fear me.”

“You’re sick,” she said. “He’ll kill you.”

“No,” I said. Then, with a sigh, I admitted, “He might. I might kill him. Either way, I think you’ll be safe. He’ll have no reason—”

I couldn’t hold it back any longer, and I began a hacking cough. When the fit passed, my handkerchief was covered in blood.

“How can you fight a duel?” She smiled with a tear. “You can barely fight me.”

“Do you love me?” I asked.

She laced her fingers in mine and smiled at me.

“Of course.”

“Then love me,” I said. “Love who I am. My life is a flame, bright, burning, burning away. I wasn’t given much, but you, that’s worth a thousand lifetimes.”