by Uncle Amon
slowed. Icy fear curled through my veins. Such a blow could kill a man, not simply cut him.
Smit easily danced out of reach.
Time sped up.
Krell’s blade struck the floor. Sparks flew, and I gasped in an unsteady breath. He growled, grasping his sword and turned to face his circling opponent.
Smit’s blade hissed through the air. Steel struck steel.
The giant pushed the sword to the side with a grunt.
Sweat trickled down Smit’s forehead. He held his weapon, ready to attack, his feet constantly in motion.
Krell turned and cleaved out, using his massive blade like an axe. Each time he missed Smit, he snapped his teeth like a feral dog.
It went on like this as minutes flew by. The blood lust in the crowd grew as their voices rose. It built like the flames of a fire, almost staggering in its intensity. My own head spun with fear.
Krell’s blade struck the floor once more, but he was slow to recover. Sweat poured down his scarred forehead.
Smit, with a flick of his wrist, sent his blade out.
Silence descended over the room.
Krell the Killer looked down. Red bled over onto his white tunic leaving a small, but clear mark.
The king settled back into his chair. “And good Lord Croswell is the champion. No further attacks may be made. He is the victor and in the right, or so say the goddess in her wisdom.”
“So say the goddess,” our people chanted back.
Krell didn’t move, his gaze trained on the blood on his shirt.
“Sheath your blade, man,” King Gaudius shouted, grinning. “You’ve been beaten.”
Bubbles of laughter came, until everyone joined in.
Some of my tension eased. Only a little blood, that was all.
The musicians played a lively tune, and although Krell hadn’t moved, the partygoers danced around him. Others went to the tables laden with food and dove into the rich spoils, as if they hadn’t already done so many times that night.
Smit sheathed his blade and came to me. “You lost.”
Relief overpowered my disappointment at losing, but I couldn’t let him see how much his battle had shaken me.
I let my hands drop, touching the folds of fabric in my long sleeves. “I guess I did.”
He leaned closer.
I held my breath.
“Well, I’m not about to do it now, silly.”
I shook myself, embarrassed that I’d longed for his kiss.
He reached up and pushed back a rebellious stand of hair from my face. “You’re blushing.”
Now I felt my cheeks burning. “I am not!”
He smirked. “That’s one thing I like about you Islanders, that pale skin turns the color of cherries when you’re embarrassed.”
A roar of confusion and horror rose over the noise of the celebration. Smit spun around as I slid out from behind him.
Krell came at us, blade gripped in his hands.
Moving without thought, I grabbed my dagger and threw. It sliced through the air and into the chest of the giant.
He froze.
Everyone froze.
Krell dropped his blade, letting it clatter to the floor.
The king gave a tiny movement. Guards swept in from every direction, surrounding Krell.
King Guadius’ voice snaked through the room. “You disobeyed me. Such a thing should end in your death.” A pause. “But I won’t kill on this night. Guards, throw him outside the gates. Let the goddess decide if he shall live.”
The guards dragged him away.
Music and voices swelled once more, along with cheering that seemed to come from all around me.
I stood, unable to move.
Had I just condemned a man to death? Had I shed blood this night, cursing myself for all eternity?
Smit touched my elbow. Soft brown eyes came into focus. “You saved my life.”
I nodded, mutely.
His gaze flickered to my father. “I understand even more now why your father wants you to have a husband who can fight… you need a man who can match your strength.”
A word escaped. “Strength?”
I didn’t feel strong in that moment.
His thumb stroked my elbow. “Yes. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Not just because you can bury a dagger in a man’s chest from across the room… it’s something else.” He stiffened, dropping his hand. “I need to speak to your father. Will you be all right?”
A guard came, holding out my freshly cleaned dagger.
I grabbed the hilt with trembling hands and re-sheathed it. “I’ll be fine.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he said, bowing, and then was gone.
My gaze went to my father. His lips were drawn into a thin line. Worry etched the corners of his mouth. My grandmother’s prophecy hung between us.
Smit reached my father, and he looked away.
My legs shook. People clasped me on the back. Honeyed words flowed over me. I responded, but had no idea what I said. Suddenly, the great hall was too warm and too small.
Someone touched my arm.
I whirled around.
Lady Branda Croswell, my closest friend from Tarak, stared back at me. Concern filled her brown eyes, the same shade as her brother’s. “Need some air?”
I nodded, and she led me out onto the great balcony.
She cried out as the cold air struck her.
I inhaled deeply. The salty sea air flowed through my veins, breathing new life into me. This is where I belonged, near the sea and the wind, not trapped inside. I took another deep breath, but a new scent came to me. A coppery one.
Against my will, I looked out at the sea. Red danced on the waves, flowing like freshly spilled blood. Logic told me it was the sea plants, blooming and spreading this time of year, as they always did, but some ancient fear didn’t care about logic. Tonight of all nights, when the full moon shimmered with the same deep crimson, the world appeared painted in blood.
“It’s hard to believe,” Branda began, “that if I marry an Islander, this strange place will be my home.”
I didn’t want to think of the moon and the sea tonight, so I allowed myself to be folded into the conversation that occupied most of Branda’s thoughts. “Do you think you’ve found a husband?”
She shifted beside me, rubbing her arms. “I’ve smiled and danced with every lord, from the wealthiest to the poorest. I’ve done everything that a lady can do to draw the eye of a suitor.” She sighed. “Now, I need simply to wait for my father to negotiate with one of them.”
Guilt flashed through me. I’d known tonight would be hard on Branda. She’d been here all summer and had yet to have a single offer of marriage. She had less than two days left, before sailing back to Tarak in shame. Whatever my fears or concerns, I could deal with them later. My friend needed me now.
“I’m sure you’ll have dozens of offers of marriage. We Islanders just like to take our time.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “You can’t possibly understand. You’re the only daughter of a wealthy lord, who already has a son to run his estates. It isn’t enough that you’re an Islander, where women are given more freedom to choose their husbands, you also have a massive dowry and connections to draw any man to you.” She paused, dropping her head. “And you’re beautiful. The kind of beautiful that stops men in their tracks.”
I took a deep breath, considering my words with care. Branda wasn’t beautiful by traditional standards. She was tall and built solidly, with a mouth full of large teeth, and a round face. But when she smiled, there was no one lovelier, and she had an innocent sweetness that had drawn me to protecting her from the first time we met.
“You might see yourself as nothing more than the fifth daughter of a moderately wealthy lord from Tarak.” My words brought the gleaming of tears to her eyes. “But I see kindness and beauty unmatched by any other woman here.”
A tear trickled down her cheek. “You really mean that?”
I smiled. “Of course I do.”
She wiped at her tear. “I think it might take the goddesses themselves to bring me a husband.”
Before I could answer, the doors to the great hall opened, and out strode Princess Gaudius.
Branda curtsied. “My princess, you honor us.”
The princess flashed her a predatory smile. “Not at all, Lady Croswell”
Worry knotted inside of me. Since when had the queen deemed Branda worthy of addressing?
“Your brother fought well today,” Princess Gaudius said, raising her goblet to her painted lips. “But who knew Lady Quinn would be the true victor.”
I steadied my breathing. “I only did what I had to.”
One of her pale brows rose. “Yes, to protect your handsome lord.”
My cheeks blazed. “He’s not mine.”
Branda elbowed me. Her gaze burned. She’s a princess.
Princess Gaudius laughed, a hollow sound. “Not to worry, Lady Croswell. We Islanders are far less formal than you Tarakians. I expect the women I keep company with to speak frankly to me.”
Branda nervously curtsied again. “Of course.”
“I thought I should come out and share a bit of gossip with you,” her eyes, the color of an old woman’s veins, peered back at me. “It appears Lord Croswell wishes to have your hand in marriage.”
My breath caught in my throat. “What makes you say that?”
She took another sip of her wine, drawing out the moment. “I heard him say so to your father. And it seems, it wasn’t the first time he’s asked for it. Your father said something about proving his worth as a warrior, but also needing your blessing first.”
Dizziness swept over me. I’d never been drawn to any man the way I was drawn to Smit, but these unexplainable feelings weren’t enough to leave my home and my family behind. Without the sea, and the infectious