Free I Should Die by Amy Plum Page B

pleasure of being the one you choose to introduce you to the art of combat? I would consider it the greatest honor.”
    She glanced at where I stood watching halfway up the staircase, lifting her eyebrows as if to ask my opinion. I shrugged, stifling a laugh.
    Returning her gaze to the ancient revenant on his knee in front of her, Georgia stared doubtfully at Arthur for a moment, and then smiled. “Well, crap. When you put it like that, how can I refuse?” And she lifted him up from his kneeling position and placed her hand lightly on his arm.
    “Man, have you got the moves!” Ambrose murmured to Arthur as he followed them down the hall toward the armory.

ELEVEN
    BRAN WAS SITTING PROPPED UP AGAINST PILLOWS in Vincent’s bed while Jeanne fussed with a tray next to him. “My good lady, I assure you I am perfectly fine,” he was saying when we entered.
    “You have improved since yesterday, but you’re still too weak to get up,” the housekeeper insisted.
    Bran looked for help from Jean-Baptiste, who was seated by the bed. “Don’t expect me to cross Madame Degogue,” JB said with a smile, lifting his hands in a gesture of powerlessness. “If she says you stay in bed, then I advise you to do just that.”
    Bran closed his eyes in frustration and leaned back against the pillows. “Kate is here,” announced Gaspard as we approached. He pulled two chairs up to the bed for us.
    “Thank you for coming,” Bran said, squinting as he looked at me. Why does he keep giving me such weird looks? I thought. Bran seemed almost repulsed by me at times, and at others like he wanted to adopt me as a favorite niece.
    “Monsieur Grimod, Monsieur Tabard, and I were about to discuss what I know about the Champion, and I wanted you to be here since we are discussing your . . .” He hesitated.
    “Boyfriend,” I said, filling in the blank for him, and he smiled oddly. There he went again, looking at me like there was something wrong. I combed through my hair with my fingers and, finding nothing sticking up out of it, settled for crossing my arms and fidgeting.
    “Yes. Well, we were comparing the bardia’s version of the prophecy with the one my family has passed down. It is basically the same.” He closed his eyes and began reciting from memory,
     
In the Third Age, humankind’s atrocities will be such that brother will betray brother and numa will outnumber bardia and a preponderance of wars will darken the world of men. In this time a bardia will arise in Gaul who will be a leader amongst his kind . . .
     
    I was listening to the strange old phrases when all of a sudden I felt another presence in the room. Kate, you’re here! The words sizzled through my mind like lightning bolts. “Stop!” I yelled. Bran’s mouth snapped shut and the three men stared at me. “It’s . . . it’s Vincent. He’s here!” I stammered in shock.
    My heart thumped so hard against my rib cage that it actually hurt. “Thank God, Vincent. You got away,” I said, choking on my words.
    No, my love, I didn’t. I only have a minute before Violette draws me back. Speak to the guérisseur for me.
    “He wants me to talk to Bran,” I explained to the astonished men, and I began relaying his message word for word.
    “Violette wants to know if you have the secret to the power transfer: the transmission of the Champion’s power to the one who defeated him.”
    “I know there is something about that in my family’s records,” Bran confirmed, speaking toward a point in the air to the right of my head.
    I glanced up to see what he was looking at, but the space next to me was empty. Vincent spoke again, and I translated. “Can you get that information for her?”
    “I would need a few days to retrieve it,” Bran replied.
    And like that, Vincent’s voice disappeared.
    “What just happened?” Jean-Baptiste looked confounded.
    “He said he only had a minute,” I explained. “Then Violette was going to pull him back.”
    “Who was