“Michael talked me out of it. Besides, apparently you didn’t.”
“Thank you anyway.”
Eden grinned and rose from scratching Black’s head to hug her. “I do understand why you feel you have to do this, Dee, even if I don’t like it. And please forgive me, but I’ve set more guards, just in case. I don’t trust that brother of ours.”
Easing back, Danielle reached up and kissed the cut above his eye. “You’re forgiven, but only if you also forgive me.”
“Well enough,” he said.
“Thank you. Now, go and tell father that I intend to make him proud, and that I won’t be throwing any Noren roses to the crowd.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Danielle placed her shield and helmet on the table outside the tournament ring, drew her sword from its scabbard, and handed it to the match warden. As he examined the weapon, making sure the edge and point were sufficiently blunted, she fidgeted nervously. Michael and her father had waylaid her on the way from the palace to wish her well, and she was sorely conscious of the excited buzz coming from the crowded stands that surrounded the duelling ring. She was also feeling decidedly uncomfortable without the added protection of her chain mail—not that she was about to change her mind on that account.
She could feel Kane watching her from the bottom of the stairs to the ring. He smiled stiffly as she glanced in his direction. She still couldn’t quite believe that he would stoop so low as to steal her armour. If it said anything, it was that he was extremely worried. And while that bode well, it angered her that he had forced her into a situation where she must be deceptive.
“Coward,” she silently mouthed the words at him.
“Your sword and shield are in order, Milady. And your armour?”
Danielle lifted her arms so the warden could check; confident he would not spot her deception. Blushing a little, he quickly glanced her over and then nodded. “All is well, Milady. You may wait at the bottom of the stairs for the herald to introduce you.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “And we all wish you total success, Milady. Do Arkaelyon proud and bloody the pompous prick.”
“I intend to, Mr Everet.” Danielle thanked him as she returned her sword to its scabbard and collected her shield and helmet before walking over to where Kane was waiting.
Illandia’s citizenry had packed the makeshift stands around the tourney ring. The excitement was palpable with many of the folk on their feet, stamping their boots and cheering her arrival. The wardens were hurrying about their final preparations and at the top of the stairs to the tourney ring the court herald was talking to the chief warden and Eden. Faith was in one corner of the timber structure, pouring water from an earthen flagon into a bucket, and Lord Llewellyn was in Kane’s corner, performing the same task.
It was particularly hot in the noonday sun, and already Danielle could feel the sweat running down her back. A week of this hadn’t reduced her anxiety one bit. The only consolation was the pleasant cooling breeze and a week of successes that made it all the more likely she wasn’t going to let these good folks down. She closed her eyes and ignored Kane, who was impatiently tapping at his armour as she tried to gather her thoughts and prepare herself for the contest.
“You really are a stubborn little thing, aren’t you?” Kane murmured. “For once in your life, why don’t you use that precocious head of yours and do the sensible thing?”
“And what might that be?”
“Withdraw your flag from the competition.”
His nervous glance made her smirk. “And why ever would I do that?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Danielle. I’ve heard the news.”
She looked at him blankly. “News?”
“You know what I’m talking about. And if I may say so, you do look horribly tired. Nightmares—not like you.”
Danielle let the comment slide. “Well, cheating is very like you. And I suggest you return them directly, or after I have taught you which end of that sword to swing, I’ll have a warrant made out for your arrest. I’m sure the realm will not be surprised to see just what a coward and a thief you really are.”
He frowned at her, and suddenly she realised he didn’t know what she was talking about.
“Return what? What in bloody Vellum are you talking about?”
“I have nothing more to say to you.”
She turned away, sorely conscious of his suspicious gaze.
“I fear, sister, that you are losing your mind. And just so we understand each other, I have it on good advice that you will lose this day.”
“Wishful thinking, brother, and as for the condition of my mind, you will soon think otherwise. Your little venture with Lord Helidon and the Archbishop—I now know what it’s about and it’s only a matter of time before I have sufficient proof to put an end to it.” She had spoken in anger, and already she regretted it.
His eyes darkened with a mix of fear and anger as he searched her face for a moment. “You bluff, you little wasp.”
“Do I?”
She moved to go, but he caught her wrist and leaned close to her ear. “You’d do well not to stick your pretty nose into things that don’t concern you.”
“Arkaelyon does concern me. And what will you do if I don’t? Take to stealing my undergarments, maybe?”
They both fell silent and straightened up as Eden came down the stairs. Having tidied himself up from the night before, he was now wearing court robes rather than his knightly garb, and his hair and beard were neatly trimmed. “What in Vellum’s name is going on?” he demanded, his voice almost lost in the excited chatter of the crowd.
“Our sister is just being her usual disagreeable self,” Kane replied airily.
Eden grabbed Kane’s armour and jerked him forward. “You touch her again, brother, and we’ll be having more than words. Are we clear?”
“Of course. I’d forgotten how much of a lackey you are, Eden.”
Seeing Eden’s fist clench, Danielle pushed in between them. “You two stop this right now. Eden, this is between Kane and I, and I’ll thank you to step back.”
Eden’s face was devoid of emotion, though his eyes had a disturbing intensity about them as he glared at his smirking younger brother.
“Eden, step back,” Danielle demanded a little louder.
“What’s going on?” Faith asked from the stairs.
“Nothing we can’t handle.”
Faith ignored her and, reaching Eden’s side, laid a hand over his as it gripped the hilt of his sword. “Don’t be foolish. The eyes of the realm are on you. Besides…” She flashed Kane an endearing smile. “Danielle can handle this sorry excuse for a man.”
The palace guardsmen who had been positioned around the ring were coming slowly forward, their sky-blue cloaks swaying in the breeze, the sun glinting off their chain mail and skullcap helmets as they awaited orders. Sir Thomas and Sir Jeffery broke through there midst and rushed forward, coming to Eden’s aid. Both knights wore the white, silver and gold-trimmed cape with the royal Arkaelyon eagle stitched on it in black, marking them as captains in Eden’s own regiment.
“Everything all right, Milord?”
“Everything is fine, thank you, Jeffery,” Danielle said. Eden continued to glare at Kane. “Eden, please let this go.”
Danielle was sorely conscious that a hush was falling over the commoner’s makeshift stands as people looked on, clearly perplexed by the altercation unfolding before them. From the corner of her eye she saw that their father had come to his feet in the royal pavilion, Michael beside him, and both of them were frowning. The lords and ladies seated around the royal box seemed equally perplexed.
Danielle darted a glance over at the chief match warden and nodded that he should start proceedings. He nodded back in understanding and then signalled the trumpeters. The two men lifted their clarions and blew out a crisp, warbling fanfare that echoed across the city and drew the crowd’s attention. Mr. Wilphur, the court herald, took his cue and bounded
up onto a stool to address the crowd.
“Contestants in the ring!” the chief match warden demanded at the same time.
Eden let Kane go and stepped aside. His expression made it clear that this matter was far from settled.
Danielle kissed Eden’s cheek, but as she went to go, he grabbed her arm. “You be careful.”
“I will, I promise.” She knew how worried he was for her.
Danielle gave him an appreciative smile and followed Kane up the stairs and into the ring.
After the two contestants were introduced to the crowd—as if they needed introduction, Mr. Templeton, the chief match warden, took them aside while Mr. Wilphur fell into his stride; drawing bursts of laughter and applause from the crowd.
“Now, you both know the rules,” he said quietly. “You may strike your opponent anywhere except the neck, and the head if the helmet is missing, and you may strike only if they are on their feet or trying to rise. Lord Kane, you are not to manhandle the lady in any way, am I clear?”
“I understand the rules well enough, Mr. Templeton,” Kane said curtly.
“Good. Now, each round will last until the sands have emptied from the top sphere of the hourglass, which is sitting yonder on the score master’s table as usual, or until one of you is unable or unwilling to rise to face your opponent. If both of you are still standing at the end of the round, the one to land the most blows will win the match. And, of course, the title will be decided by winning two out of three matches. Two of my wardens will control the contest. If they lower their poles between you, you must break apart. If you strike an opponent after a round has concluded, you will be disqualified, and the match will be given to your opponent. Your father also wants me to remind you that the de Brie name is on display here today and that you both had best behave accordingly. Very well, helmets on, and to your corners.”
The herald, having finished his address to thunderous applause, bowed ostentatiously, stepped down, and retrieved his stool before heading for the gate in the ring. He grinned and winked at Danielle as he handed the stool to a steward outside the ring and began to climb the railing. “Do us proud, Milady.”
“I intend to,” she said, taking her helmet from Faith.
How many times she had received that same sentiment over the past week, Danielle couldn’t remember. In truth, it was both a blessing and a curse to have such expectations on her shoulders. Faith’s eyes met hers, and her friend clearly saw her ambivalence.
“Just remember. When you are in the ring, there is only what is happening in the ring. Nothing else matters.”
Danielle nodded and closed her visor, though those words were hardly new either. It was hot beneath the armour, and her heart was thumping madly as she turned to face Kane in the far corner. She had to force herself to take slow, calming breaths as she clenched and unclenched a gloved hand over the hilt of her sword. She had waited so long for this, and worked so very hard. Am I good enough, she wondered, hoping that she was; telling herself that she was.
Everyone in the crowd was on the edge of their seats, and a hush was beginning to fall, broken only by the snapping pendants flying from the top of the royal pavilion. Danielle could see their eager faces through her visor slit, and despite her anxieties she was determined not to fail them.
“Competitors will draw their swords.”
Danielle pulled the sword clear of its scabbard and flexed her shoulders. Mr Templeton lifted the first flag, the orange material fluttering in the gentle breeze. “Are you ready?” he called from his small stage outside the ring.
They both nodded, swords raised and poised to swing. “Begin!”
The flag swept down, and they moved forward, eyes only for one another as the crowd cheered the beginning of the final of the Illandian tourney. Their swords met stroke for stroke, clanging out a metallic rhythm across the square. Kane was holding nothing back, and time and again Danielle was forced to break off and wheel away or risk be driven into a corner. More troubling still was the strength being sapped from her shoulders and arms, as she weathered Kane’s onslaught. He wanted to humiliate her, that was clear, and she knew the only way to avoid that was to hold on and wait for him to tire.
At least that was the plan, until she slipped and Kane’s sword smashed into the plate on her shoulder and sent her stumbling backwards. His sword point whipped past her face. She threw up her shield just in time to fend off a downward cut, before scurrying away.
“First point to Lord Kane,” Mr Templeton yelled out, his voice almost lost in the booing that had erupted from the stands.
Annoyed with herself, Danielle steadied her breathing and set herself again. Kane was pacing, impatient for the stewards to raised their poles and let him at her again. “I expected more from you, Dee? Very poor show. One has to wonder how you made it this far. Why not relent with dignity while you still can.”
The stewards raised their poles and moved out of the way. Kane circled her. She met him step for step, waiting for his feint and charge, determined not to be distracted by his taunts.
His right shoulder dropped and he lunged forward and thrust. The point of his sword was aimed at her breastplate and bandaged ribs beneath. She had expected him to exploit her injuries and a ring of steel saw his blade deflected, but left him undeterred as he came at her again, forcing her to back up, desperately fending off a flurry of well-executed strokes. Another blow got through her defences and smashed into the plate protecting her left side. The force of it sent her staggering backwards. She lost sight of his sword from the narrow slit in her visor and was punished with a blow to her right side that sent her crashing into the railing. His sword raked her back and she found herself on the ground, gasping for breath and trying to clear her vision.
Mercifully the stewards had stepped in, their timber poles lowered to force Kane back. But her brother was openly laughing and taunting her now, and she could feel the disappointment and concern of the crowd.
“Five point goes to Lord Kane.” Mr Templeton slotted yet another green flag on Kane’s side of the scoring rack.
“Dee, get up,” Faith said. She had jumped down from her corner, run around the ring and pushed through the cordon of soldiers to reach her. “You need to concentrate. You can beat him.” Her brown eyes truly believed that. Danielle wasn’t so sure any more. Her ribs were on fire.
“Wear him down. Remember, quick and exacting, then make him chase you.”
Danielle nodded wearily. Kane’s laughter was fuelling her anger, and drawing on what Faith had said she found her feet and rounded on him with a flurry of chopping strokes. His taunts quickly faulted, and he was forced to give up ground, and break off.
“Much better, sis.”
She circled him, then feigned right and went left, trying to catch him off guard. With shield and sword he parried her blade as it struck at him. She ducked as he came at her with a crosscut, and rolled away. He rushed after her and she exited her roll to a crouch, caught his sword with her shield and thrust up at his breastplate, striking him cleanly. And hard. The curse that burst from his mouth and the way he grimaced as he hastily stepped away was almost as gratifying as the flag slotted onto her side of the scoring rack and the cheer that went up from the commoner’s benches. It was her turn to grin. The stewards stepped aside again and she went at him. This time he was ready. He stepped into the arch of her sword and caught her blade with his own before shoving her back. She hadn’t thought he’d risk so much by getting that close, and with the combination of his strength, Danielle was knocked off her feet and sent sprawling across the timber floor. Another chorus of boos burst from the commoner’s benches.
“Fight him on your terms!” Faith yelled at her.
Danielle rolled to the left as his sword chopped into the floor of the ring beside her head and quickly got to her feet and went at him like a mongoose at a tiring cobra.
“Keep at him, don’t let him rest,” Faith yelled.
Kane stopped pressing her, so she int
ensified her attack, hacking at him from the left then the right, thrusting at his shoulders then his chest, and always trying to shepherd him towards the railing. In turn, her brother was defending stoutly, and what attacking strikes he threw were aimed at her ribs and her sword arm, hoping to land a maiming blow.
Danielle’s impatience was growing and wanting to end this she caught a thrust aimed at her chest with her shield, and countered with a criss-cross attack. Kane backed up, waited for the wrist turn at the end of the arc, and unleashed a series of furious and increasingly desperate thrusts, but she fended them off with sword and shield, steadily giving ground and eating into his waning strength.
Fired up, Danielle sidestepped a downward swing. Kane’s blade sank into the end grain of the railing post. Then he grunted in pain as Danielle fetched him a clanging back swing blow across his shoulder plate, drawing another rapturous cheer from the crowd.
Infuriated, Kane spun around and charged her. But Danielle sidestepped at the last instant, and laid a solid blow to his breastplate that sent him reeling. He straightened up and stood there dazed for a moment, and then came at her again. This time, however, he didn’t even bother offering a stroke; he just put his shoulder behind his shield and hit her with his full weight. Danielle saw it coming and tried to get clear, but even the glancing collision knocked her off her feet, and before the stewards could get between them the blade of Kane’s sword glanced off her back armour as she tried to find her feet. It threw her balance and the next blow took her squarely across the shoulders, driving her into the floorboards. His boot found her ribs several time before the stewards could pull him away.
Danielle rolled onto her back and lay there with her eyes closed and trying to catch her breath. Her head was spinning and every time she breathed in her ribs seemed to catch fire.
The crowd came howling to its feet in protest. Faith was bellowing at Kane calling him a fucking snake.
A warden crouched beside Danielle with a water skin.
“Milady?”
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