Now it was Skulduggery’s turn to watch as Dalrymple came back at China and she blocked, replied with a swipe that he blocked, the shrill taps of blade on blade settling into a rhythm as they moved around each other.
“You’re trying to confuse me,” Dalrymple said.
“I am trying no such thing. The love you’re feeling is a real and genuine thing. Just because it is not reciprocated in the slightest does not lessen its worth.”
“You don’t love me,” Dalrymple sneered.
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
He neared. “You wouldn’t be fighting if you knew what it was like. When your body is a vessel for a Remnant, you don’t need tricks to make people fall in love with you. You don’t need their love.”
China backed away, blocking and countering. She stepped up on to a chair, and then she was on the table, and he was following her up, the clashing of their swords only getting faster. It was dangerous up there, not much room to manoeuvre, and Dalrymple’s strikes were increasing in strength. China was impressed. Her wrist was already aching.