Read Online Passion's Blood by Cherif Fortin, Lynn Sanders - Free Book Online

not deserve,” Emric said icily. “You cannot know how many have died and suffered by your hand. And our father … To what avail, brother?”
    “I did what was necessary. Do you think I did not see you scheming for the throne? That I did not see Loriel’s rivalry?” He made a harsh sound in his throat. “Did you believe I would simply allow you the succession?”
    “You are mad,” Emric whispered, so quietly only Leanna heard him. “Dismount,”he ordered.
    Bran complied, for the crossbows leveled at him brooked no argument.
    Emric ushered Leanna into the protective arms of one of his men. “Now, draw your blade.”
    “What?” Leanna broke free and seized Emric’s arm.
    “He must die, Leanna, here and now, and by my hand.”
    “No,” Leanna pleaded, clutching at him desperately. “No, not now that we have been reunited. I thought you dead, but my prayers have been answered.” The words tumbled from her mouth. “Let the headsman at Brimhall make justice, but do not place yourself in danger again, I beg you.”
    “I love you with all my heart and soul, Leanna.” Emric touched her cheek. “But I cannot allow my brother to live a moment longer without atoning for the evil he has wrought.” Gently, he pried her fingers from him.
    “Do not intervene.” Emric said to his men-at-arms. “My honor will be satisfied only after I am victorious in single combat.” He waited until the ranking sergeant nodded acknowledgment, then shifted back to face his brother.
    “Let us cross steel, Bran.”
    Bran tore his sword free with a snarl and leaped at Emric. His blade flashed like summer lightning, feinting toward the legs, then slashing upward. Dull orange sparks shimmered as blow after blow fell on Emric’s blade, forcing him away from the escort.
    Leanna watched in horror as the two men fought in grim silence, grunting with the fury of their strokes. Terror flashed through her when Bran’s blade ripped across Emric’s thigh. Blood gushed to Emric’s ankle, but the two men fought on. The sound of steel against steel seemed to fuel their ferocity.
    Emric pressed his brother with a series of powerful lunges, barely pulling his sword back in time to parry. The men locked blades for a tense moment, then Bran twisted his wrist in an expert motion, smashing the hilt of his weapon against Emric’s unprotected temple.
    The prince reeled, his senses still weakened by the wound he had received at the hands of King Lorccan. His grip slackened, releasing the blade, and he fell, struggling against unconsciousness.
    Tearing at the fastening of the whip laced to his belt, Bran was upon him in the passing of a heartbeat. The lash encircled Emric’s neck in a fatal embrace, and Bran tightened it relentlessly.
    “This is my vengeance, dear brother,” Bran hissed in Emric’s ear. “You were a fool to let me live. I will yet be king and Leanna will be my consort.”
    Emric fought the darkness descending upon him. His lungs burned and panic rose within him, stealing the last of his breath. His pulse pounded thickly in his temples. He was dying. Dying by Bran’s hand … like their father. His vision dimmed.
    “Bran, my love …” Leanna called in a clear voice.
    Bran turned to face her with a start, bewilderment plain on his face.
    “Leanna?” he said almost as a supplicant, heedless that the deadly circle made by the whip slackened the span of the merest breath.
    Emric thrust his head backward, feeling the snap of bone as it connected with Bran’s nose. The whip was cast loose as Bran collapsed, and Emric’s body heaved uncontrollably to find air at last.
    Emric struggled to his feet, scooping up Bran’s discarded blade from the dust. With a forceful yell, he raised the sword and sent it down. It shivered through the air and found its mark in a soul as dark as night.

    Bran’s head rolled to a stop three strides from where his body lay.
    Emric fell back weakly and Leanna rushed to her beloved, cradling his head to