Ruby Morgan Box Set: Books 6-10

by LJ Rivers

  “The men here,” Jen sighed, “they’re a little too timid for my liking.”

  “Not all of them.” Charlie giggled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Her eyes widened as the three archers stepped into the arena.

  There were two men and one woman, all fairly young, all cloaked, with quivers on their backs and bows in their hands.

  “What are they?” I whispered to Jen.

  “The one in blue is a Dodger, the woman in green is a Pixie, and I’m not entirely sure about the man in black. He has shown none of his abilities. Then again, using one’s powers is considered cheating. An Air Bender was disqualified in the last round for wind-aiding his arrow.”

  “Hey.” I bumped Charlie’s shoulder. “Isn’t that the bloke from the port from about a month back? The one who picked up your glasses.”

  “Is it?” She blinked. “I guess, maybe.”

  “You’re the one who called him Prince Charming.”

  Jen cocked an eyebrow at Charlie. “Why no one told me about this, I don’t know, but he sure looks yummy.”

  He was handsome, I couldn’t deny that, but he didn’t exactly make me swoon just by looking at him either. The tight-fitting jerkin he wore showcased the long and wiry muscles on his arms and shoulders. The definition on his shins and thighs was just as prominent, making me think archery wasn’t his only pastime. His cape was draped away from one of his bare shoulders, and the flickering torchlights revealed a nasty scar cutting across his clavicle, down to his armpit, as if someone had once tried to cut his arm off.

  “Penya of Pixilen, Daughter of Sumi, the reigning champion of the golden arrow,” someone announced through the speaker horns mounted around the arena. “Take your shot.”

  The Pixie threw her shoulders back, and the spectators leaned forward. She took aim, every line of her body in perfect symmetry. The coiled straw target was painted in white, blue, and red circles, surrounding a black dot in the middle about the size of my fist. Although, from where I was sitting, it looked more like a pinhead.

  The arrow zipped through the air, and there was a hollow thunk as it hit the mark. It was embedded just shy of the black circle. Not a perfect shot, but I was impressed. The target had to be at least seventy yards away. She followed with two more arrows, both within the black circle, the final one trembling from the impact, one coil away from the bullseye.

  “Penya of Pixilen,” the announcer’s voice bellowed across the arena. “Eighty-five points. Well done.”

  The crowd cheered, and we clapped along.

  Penya turned around and strutted towards the royal booth, where she halted and took a bow.

  I nodded at her respectfully. “Very impressive, Penya of Pixilen.”

  Her violet eyes met mine. “My Princess.”

  When the next archer was announced, Penya went to stand closer to the stands, watching her opponent carefully. Luca of Talani ended up with seventy-five points, keeping Penya in the lead. Her lips didn’t curve up, but her eyes told me she was smiling on the inside. After paying his respects to me, Luca joined Penya to watch the final archer.

  “Rowan of Nidra,” the announcer said. “Take your shot.”

  Rowan raised his chin and widened his stance, nocking an arrow and taking aim. The crowd held its collective breath, and though the sounds of the surrounding festivities buzzed around us, I could hear the snap of the bowstring as it released the arrow. It zinged through the air in a straight line, faster than I could track, before embedding itself smack in the centre of the target.

  Charlie slapped her hands together, and the crowd erupted with applause.

  Rowan turned to the spectators, his eyes scanning the crowd on both sides. They locked with mine for a brief moment before settling on Charlie.

  She giggled.

  “You are many things, Charlie of Earth.” Jen shook her head. “Coy is not one of them. Get a grip, girl.”

  Charlie cleared her throat but could do nothing about the grin on her face.

  In the arena, Rowan took another perfect shot, the second arrow hugging the first. The third and final arrow buried itself in the middle of the first two.

  “Rowan of Nidra wins the golden arrow with a perfect score of one hundred and twenty points.” The announcer’s voice drowned in the applause.

  Charlie jumped out of her seat, clapping her hands and skipping on her feet in excitement. I shared a look with Jen as we stood to join in.

  Below, Rowan swung around, swaggering towards the royal booth.

  “Princess,” Anwinar whispered behind me.

  I jumped, unprepared for how close he was.

  “Since we are here, it is only right you should be the one to award him his prize.”

  “Oh,” was all I could say.

  “Here.” The centaur slid an object into my hand, then stepped back.

  I brought it up to get a closer look at it. It was a golden arrow, about 3-three feet long, simple, yet stunning.

  With no clue as to how this was supposed to work, I walked down the few steps to the front of the booth and held the arrow up.

  “Rowan of Nidra,” I said. “You earned this.”

  He stared at me from underneath strands of coffee-coloured tousled hair, and a shiver passed over my skin. The tiny hairs on my arms stood on end, and I sucked in a breath as power stirred in my veins. I knew what he was, and as I came to the undeniable conclusion, he seemed to realise it too. It was as if I could see the spark of fire hiding behind his dark blue irises.

  “My Princess,” he said, glancing at Jen and Charlie. “Miladies.”

  I held the arrow out to him. “For your outstanding performance.”

  He accepted his prize and stepped closer. “Fair maiden.” He wasn’t looking at me, but Charlie. “Come closer.”

  Charlie pointed at herself, and he nodded. She looked at me for some kind of approval, so I simply shrugged and showed her my palms. That was evidently all she needed, and she skipped down the steps to stand next to me.

  One corner of Rowan’s mouth quirked up. “For you.” He bowed and offered the golden arrow to her. “May our paths cross again.”

  Once Charlie had the arrow in her hands, Rowan spun round and exited the arena.

  “Huh,” Jen said. I hadn’t even noticed her coming down to stand next to us. “You’ve got an admirer, fair maiden.”

  “Oh, shush.” Charlie laughed, hugging the arrow to her chest.

  I smiled at her, but my eyes were fixed on the archway where Rowan had left moments earlier. Something was off about him. While there were a few Sorcerers in Avalon, they were few and far between and all accounted for. I had read up on them after I was almost ashored for practising Sorcery without consent. I couldn’t recall having come across the name Rowan of Nidra, however. As long as he didn’t use his sorcery while in Avalen, he might be fine, but combined with his archery skills, Morgana would view him as a threat. Assuming she didn’t know about him already, that was.

  “Ru?” Jen poked my shoulder. “Are you with us?”

  “Huh? Sure, just thinking.”

  “A dangerous pastime.” She grinned. “They’re clearing out the archery targets for the next event.”

  “Which is?”

  Before Jen could reply, two men sauntered through the archway, both sporting a sword and dressed in chain mail. I recognised the smith Elwood’s apprentice Feeney before I realised that the man next to him was Brendan.

  Chapter Two

  The fanfare rang out, and Morgana swept into view, Taryn and her usual guards flanking her. I spotted Nefari and Kit prancing behind her. The two felines took one look at the arena, then scurried out of the archway, apparently not impressed with the scene.

  “Morgana of Fay, Queen of Avalon and the Southern Isles, Protector of Talani, Awarnach, and Ygrenya, Defender of the Realm.” Taryn’s voice thundered from the horn he was speaking through.

  The crowd rose to their feet, bowing their heads as Morgana continued to the royal booth
. Jen, Charlie, and I found our previous chairs after Morgana had sat on hers. Once we were all in place, the crowd finally sat back down as well. After a month in Avalon, I should be used to the etiquette of the people here, but it still made me uncomfortable.

  “Haven’t seen you all day,” I whispered.

  “You know how it is,” she said. “I expect our final guest will arrive by tomorrow, and I had to make sure everything is in order for the meeting. Aside from that, Reeve Humberlen is complaining about the size of his tub.”

  “His tub?”

  “It’s the same size as mine, mind you. It’s not the tub that is too small, rather—” She straightened out her sleeves and clasped her hands in her lap. “Never mind that. Reeve Humberlen has been dealt with for now, and I don’t wish to ruin this event. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

  I glanced at Brendan. He caught me looking and waved his fingers at me, a mischievous spark in his eyes. He had changed somewhat since we arrived in Avalen, not so much on the inside, and not in any magical sense, but he was bulkier and had grown a beard. It looked good on him, adding a few years to his actual age, but the jury was still out on how I felt about it.

  “What exactly is this event?” I asked.

  “Swordplay.” Morgana raised an eyebrow. “By the Lady, did you not know? I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “I cannot wait to show him off. It feels like when Arthur and his knights joined Merlin’s court all those years ago. No one thought the Don Hekals could possibly measure up to a trained guard in Merlin’s court. They proved us wrong. Your intended might remind our people of that time, as it does me.”

  “I—”

  “Hush, now. It’s about to begin. Let us watch my new Juniper Swordmaster in action, shall we?”

  “Your new—” My jaw slackened as the reality kicked in. She had made Brendan Swordmaster of the Junipers. He was about to enter this game of swordplay so that Morgana could convince both the Junipers and the people that he was as worthy as any Avalonian. While I appreciated the intention behind it, she was putting him at risk. Not only that, but I suspected this was another one of Her Majesty’s ploys to keep me from leaving Avalon—and her. For the past three weeks, Brendan had been training with Morgana’s best swordsmen in the Juniper ranks, but this was different. While I didn’t know the exact rules of this game, it wasn’t like the fencing matches Brendan was used to on Earth. He didn’t have his protective suit or a foil; he was wearing chain mail and a sharp, much heavier sword. It just didn’t compare. And all he had was a sword.

  “Why doesn’t he have a shield?” I muttered.

  “He declined one,” Anwinar said somewhere behind me, startling me a little.

  “He did what?” I looked over my shoulder at the centaur, who snickered and shrugged in response.

  Men and their pride!

  “Eight challengers, one victor,” the announcer said, silencing the crowd once more, before continuing to explain the point system. “The victor is decided by gaining the most points at the end of each round or by severe injury, damage to the weapons or by disqualification. All of which will prevent the opponent from completing the round, handing the victory to the opposing swordsman.”

  “Don’t be alarmed, Princess.” Morgana placed her hand over mine. “They are not allowed to swing their swords above the shoulders.”

  “Comforting,” I muttered.

  Brendan and Feeney were the first two out. They had become fast friends and had trained together several times, so I wasn’t too worried about any of them doing irreparable harm to the other. On the other hand, they were both stupidly proud, and neither would yield willingly. Especially not my boyfriend. He was the one with the most to prove, a Don Hekal courting the princess. If the people here were to ever accept him as a future king, he had to show them what I already knew. That he was extraordinary.

  The gong of a bell announced the start of the fight. Swords whistled through the air, clanging against each other over and over again. Brendan ducked, parried, and forced Feeney backwards across the arena. I edged forward in my seat, wringing my hands in anticipation. Feeney swung his blade at Brendan’s abdomen, missing him by an inch when Brendan spun away from him. They fought with precision and pride, and I couldn’t help but feel admiration towards the man Morgana had named my intended. His footwork was sublime, and when Feeney started to get winded, Brendan knocked him in the face with his elbow, then made a swift cut across his upper arm, disarming Feeney and ending the fight.

  “Brendan of Callaghan wins the first round.”

  I let out a sigh of relief before I realised he would be fighting again. At least once more. While I sat through the next few excruciating rounds, Morgana’s healing staff were being put to the test. One man left the arena with a broken nose and arm, another had to be carried out after his legs had sustained serious injuries, and a third was disqualified for slashing at another man’s throat. The wound wasn’t deep enough to kill right then and there, and a Fae managed to heal him in time to save his life.

  Brendan won his next round, and I watched his two possible opponents for the finals dancing across the arena. One of them was exceptionally tall and graceful, the other was shorter but fast and agile. There was no telling who would best the other. The taller one had wild silver-grey hair, though he couldn’t be more than a few years older than Brendan. His pale grey eyes were full of menace, and his sword was relentless.

  “That one there,” Morgana gestured at the taller man. “That is Miranar’s son, Maxim. Miranar has been trying to get me to choose him for the position I gave Brendan for years.”

  “Perhaps you should.”

  She slanted her head, giving me a sideways glance. “Brendan is perfectly capable. I wouldn’t have entrusted him with this position if I didn’t believe he had all the qualities I require of my Swordmaster. I realise you might think I’m only giving it to him because he is with you, but that is not the case. Brendan has proven his valour and his skills to me, and he can provide a fresh perspective and approach that Maxim would never be able to. Miranar’s son is an excellent swordsman, but he is no strategist, and he lacks a certain, shall we say, finesse? Brendan is strong and skilled, but also compassionate and wise. That is why I chose him.”

  “The cherry on top, of course, is that Brendan might decide he likes it here better than he did Earth, and that I might decide to stay if he wants to.” My words were more accusing than I had meant them to be, but I couldn’t help myself.

  “Cherry? I’ve never been too fond of cherries, but I suppose you make a fair assumption. It certainly doesn’t hurt to make him feel at home here.”

  “He has family on Earth, Morgana. Unlike me, he has people he will want to return to.”

  “We shall see.”

  The howl of a wolf cut through the air, and I turned my attention back to the arena. Maxim held his sword up, one foot resting on the back of his opponent, who was missing an entire arm. It lay three feet away from them, bleeding into the dirt.

  I sucked in a breath.

  “Surely he’s disqualified for this.” Jen leaned forward, looking at Morgana.

  “We can fix the arm, young wolf. This does not disqualify Maxim, and he will meet Brendan in the final bout.”

  “He dismembered the guy,” Jen protested.

  “Proving his worth.”

  I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, as I watched Maxim’s opponent being carried off, and someone picking up his severed limb.

  Maxim bowed towards the royal booth, and Morgana tilted her chin in response.

  “We will break for a quarter of an awr before the final bout between Maxim of Talani and Brendan of Callaghan,” the announcer said.

  I scrunched my skirt in my hands, unable to breathe. If Maxim wanted Brendan’s new position, he might do anything to get it.

  Charlie leaned closer, wrapping her arm around me. “Look.”

  I turn
ed to where she was pointing her thumb, the booth with the primes, where all seven of them were now seated. Miranar had a wolfish grin on his face while Sanctor gave him a firm pat on his back, evidently congratulating him on his son’s achievement.

  “He’s proud his son cut a man’s arm off,” I hissed under my breath.

  “Brendan is tough, Ru.”

  “I know.” It didn’t sound as convincing as I wanted it to.

  The bell rang, announcing the final bout. I tuned out the noise and the voice of the announcer, my eyes firmly on the two men. Maxim towered more than a head above Brendan, and my fingers curled into fists when the wolf Shifter bared his canines in a feral grin.

  Brendan turned his body in a familiar stance, grounding his feet. He was good, I knew that, but Maxim was more than a little intimidating.

  Their swords met in a devastating blow, and Brendan’s knees buckled at the impact. He staggered back and spun away from the next attack, swinging his blade across Maxim’s shin. The wolf snarled but didn’t lose his stride, unfazed by the open wound where blood pumped out at his every move. The two men cut, slashed, and ducked. Unlike the round with Feeney, this looked like an actual fight instead of a game. Maxim would hurt Brendan if given the chance.

  “Stop this,” I said through my teeth.

  Morgana inhaled sharply but made no other response. She wouldn’t intervene.

  Could I? A force field the size of a tennis ball formed in my palm, and I played with it for a while, rolling it between my hands.

  “I will not,” Morgana whispered sharply. “And neither will you. His honour is at stake, and no one will respect him if the princess had to save him from a simple sword fight.”

  I pressed my palms together, killing the force field. While I didn’t like it, she wasn’t wrong.

  Maxim was forcing Brendan closer to the stands, and I winced when his blade slashed across Brendan’s chest, scraping against the edges of the chain mail. My boyfriend parried the next blow and kicked Maxim’s knee. The wolf yowled and stumbled back, but remained on his feet.