The curly haired announcer held out a wreath of woven flowers. Blossoms of every color were worked into the circle. “You may now choose a Lady of Spring so we may honor her beauty!” he explained formally.
Coran forgot about this part. Partially because he did not think he had a chance to win. It was the same as the tournament at Summerhall except there the woman picked would be the Lady of Summer. Whoever was chosen would be the guest of honor for the day of celebration tomorrow. He assumed that this gave some of the women who had sat through the whole thing something to look forward to.
He reached down and took the ring of flowers, then looked out over the assemblage. Most of the tiers on this side of the field were filled with nobles and some of the more wealthy citizens of Westland. Many of the Ladies of Westland were there, and they were looking back at him. Some of them were doing more than just looking. He caught some indiscreet winks and a few enticing looks directed his way. He tried to ignore them as best he could.
He let his gaze run over those seated in the box before him. First there was the Queen who had more than enough grace, and then there was Willa, who was certainly pretty enough. His gaze passed to Alys and he was tempted to give it to her. It would have been nice for her to be the center of attention for a day instead of always hiding in the background. At any other time he would have, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. He needed anything that would play on Torvilin’s pride, and involving Katelyn would definitely do that. Then there was another fact that made his choice the only one. He had agreed to wear Katelyn’s colors. He could have chosen someone else, but she might take such a gesture as an insult whether it was intended or not. He had no intention of doing that. It also gave him an excuse if anyone felt it should have been them instead. He walked his horse until it stopped directly in front of Katelyn and held out the circle of blossoms.
“My Lady of Spring,” he announced with his head bowed.
The smile that lit up her face was more than enough to make up for his aches and bruises as she took the proffered wreath and placed it carefully on her brow.
“Behold!” the announcer cried, his arms spread wide as he turned to look at everyone. “Her Highness, Katelyn Sundarrion, our Lady of Spring!”
Chapter 9
Hidden Snares
He hurried through the deserted halls accompanied solely by the echo of his own footsteps. Everyone else was still at the tournament. He had to stay to help clean up and prepare some of the guest rooms before anyone returned to wash and prepare for tonight’s meal. That done, he now had to reach the stable yard before any of the palace’s guests came back. The head ostler would surely have words for him if a rider came in and no one was there to take the horse. That was not his normal duty, but with over half the staff gone to either help out at the tournament grounds or to watch, others had to help cover their positions.
Concentrating on not being late he did not notice the man who emerged from a recessed doorway and came up behind him on silent feet. A hand came over his mouth and something cold was pressed against his throat. With a shock he realized that it had to be a knife. He had no choice but to allow himself to be led backwards into a small, bare-walled room. He felt the blade move against his throat and tried to scream, but all that came out was a bloody gurgle.
The other man pushed the brownish hair from his own forehead after quickly lowering the body to the floor of the chamber, then reached out to push the door shut. Only a narrow cot and a single table with an old, yellowed, washbasin decorated the room. It must have been a servant’s quarters. By the amount of dust on the table it had not been used in a long time, the perfect place to wait for someone to pass by alone.
With everyone gone it had been too easy for him to sneak in unseen. He removed the corpse’s green over-tunic and checked it to see if any blood was noticeable on the front. Satisfied, he set down the curved dagger and put the livery on. Then he wiped the blade off on the dead man’s shirt before tucking it behind his belt. He pushed the body under the cot then took a blanket and swept it across the floor to remove any noticeable footprints in the dust, after which, he placed the blanket back on the bed. At the door he glanced back to look over the room. If anyone happened to look in they would not be able to see anything that would suggest someone had been there.
They would find the body, eventually, but he only needed until tonight, at the latest. Opening the door slowly he stuck his head out to check the hall. Seeing no one, he slipped out and closed the door behind him. He walked briskly down the hall. Just another servant on his way to perform some menial task. Now all he had to do was find a certain room and wait. He allowed himself a brief smile. “This is too easy,” he whispered to the walls.
Coran pushed aside the tent flap and went out into what was left of the day. Half of the small round tents had already been taken down. He stretched his arms, content at not having to wear the heavy armor any more, and winced as his muscles ached. The rows of benches were empty and only workers remained to care for mounts and equipment. The few remaining nobles were gathered, along with the royal family, on the western side of the field. They talked beneath a large, rectangular tent striped in green and white. The tent was open on the sides so he could see that only a couple of dozen people remained. Most had gone back to the palace or wherever they were staying to prepare for the feast tonight and the celebration tomorrow. He noticed that Devon was there as well as Torvilin. Things were about to get interesting.
Katelyn saw him coming and hurried over. She wore the circle of flowers on her head.
“What took you so long?” she asked without a hint of the awkwardness that had plagued them recently. That alone made him feel more at ease.
“You try getting out of that stuff in a hurry,” he answered while keeping an eye on the Voltian. Torvilin was watching him in return, and he did not look happy. If he could just push the man a little more he might get a reaction. Coran put a hand on Katelyn’s shoulder and gave Torvilin a very pleased smile. The Prince turned red in the face with rage.
“Torvilin?” Katelyn questioned with a look to her shoulder. “Or was it...? Oh never mind.” She turned to get a look at the Voltian herself. “My, he does not look pleased at all. If you are trying to force him to act I think you are almost there.”
Coran looked at her quickly, then smiled. “I should have known you had it figured out. Your father could never outthink you.”
She smiled at his compliment. “All he needs is a little push and you could light a fire with his face.” She stood on her tip toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Torvilin went livid. He could no longer restrain himself. “Your Majesty!” he called for the King. All conversation broke off at the vehemence in the man’s voice.
“Torvilin,” Robert said carefully, and the nobles who had been standing around him in conversation moved aside. Onatel was one of them. The Lord of Videntur was frowning at the approaching Prince’s intrusion. “Is there a problem?”
“There is.” Torvilin moved to stand directly before the King. Everyone else was looking on in curiosity. “That man,” he pointed a finger at Coran. “He is making improper advances towards the woman I intend to marry.”
Robert’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I was unaware of any betrothment.”
“My claim may not have been formally acknowledged, but I have spoken with King Stemis and he did not refuse me.”
“So, am I to understand that you are challenging Coran as a rival suitor?” Robert asked.
Coran had a sudden feeling that something was not what it seemed. Robert made the leap from disagreement to challenge rather quickly. As King, he should be trying to dissuade anyone from fighting, especially on a day of celebration.
“I am,” Torvilin stated.
“This is ridiculous,” Robert shook his head. “Coran has been assigned as her protector and must remain close by.”
Torvilin took a moment to reply. “Then all he has to do is deny any intentio
ns towards her. If he can do that I will withdraw my objections.” He turned to face Coran smugly.
This was the moment he had been waiting for. “I will not,” he announced defiantly.
Murmurs came from the crowd. He looked to Devon and his friend nodded in approval. Willa, standing nearby, was clearly confused. Rob also nodded.
Robert raised his hands for quiet. He rubbed his chin in thought. In the silence that dragged on, the sound of someone shuffling their feet could be clearly heard. Finally the King lowered his hand and spoke to Torvilin. ”Is it your intention to challenge Coran to a duel?”
“Yes,” Torvilin answered. He stood straight, and confident that things were going as he wished. He was unaware of the trap he had just sprung.
“And you as well?” Robert asked Coran.
“I am willing to resolve our differences,” Coran nodded.
The King smiled to himself. “Resolve your differences. I am glad you put it that way.” Slowly, he pulled a folded parchment from beneath his coat and opened the thick paper. “Since you are both set on this course of action I have something to read for you. I have received a letter from the High King.” Coran looked at Katelyn, she shook her head slightly. Whatever was going on, she was unaware.
Robert held up the paper so he could read it. “It says:”
‘I had hoped to be present to handle such a situation myself. Since I am not, my dear friend, Robert Tenrell, will act in my stead, according to my wishes. Because of the political difficulties surrounding the future marital status of my younger daughter, I have decided that the situation must be resolved as quickly as possible if the opportunity should present itself. We cannot have any division, no matter how trivial, among the kingdoms of the Alliance. I hope that all present will understand such, and will honor my wish to stand witness for what follows.’
Robert lowered the letter, refolded it, and tucked it back inside his coat. Coran felt a chill at hearing the words of Stemis. This was highly irregular and the mutterings of the others agreed. That they would stand witness was a foregone conclusion. Not just because the High King had asked, but because they did not want to miss what might follow such an announcement. They were not disappointed.
“It is King Stemis’ wish that his daughter’s betrothal be decided and formalized, immediately.” Robert clasped his hands behind his back, then turned a serious face towards Katelyn. “Do you agree to this, your father’s wishes?”
If she was stunned by what was happening she gave no outward sign of it. “I do,” she said in a clear voice.
He then turned to Torvilin. “Is it your wish to wed the Lady Katelyn?”
The Voltian looked more confused than anyone. He was clearly unsure if he was getting his challenge or not and was probably wondering where he had lost control of the situation. He couldn’t comprehend that he had never had it to begin with. “It is.”
“Is it your wish,” Robert repeated to Coran, “to wed the Lady Katelyn?”
Trapped. Coran had severely underestimated Stemis this time. The King had prearranged everything and made sure that no one would be able to back down. A trap for one had become a trap for three. Katelyn had no more choice in this than he did. He had never thought of Stemis as a man to take chances. A schemer, yes, but not a gambler. The High King had taken, perhaps the biggest chance a father could take. Katelyn’s future, and possibly the future of Summerhall, was being gambled on the strength of Coran’s sword.
Coran glanced quickly at Katelyn. Her face gave away nothing to anyone who did not know her. “It is,” he answered as calmly as he could. He did not feel calm.
The King nodded again as if he already knew what their answers would be. He probably did know. “Because of the importance of such a situation it can only be decided with steel. You will fight until one of you can no longer continue, either by yielding or by death.” He paused and his face twisted as if he did not like what he was about to say. “By order of the High King you may choose no quarter and no dishonor will be attached.”
There were louder mutterings at that announcement and no wonder. No quarter meant that even if a man was down and wounded, even if a man yielded, he could still be slain. Why Stemis would allow that Coran could not understand. When he saw Torvilin’s face he got a clue. The Prince had turned pale and he was clearly worried. To risk death was one thing, but to know that one would almost certainly die was quite another. There was no doubt that he himself would give no quarter. His question had to be whether or not Coran would do the same. Coran thought he understood the thinking behind the idea. If Coran lost then everything was lost anyway. If he won then Stemis would expect him to spare the Voltian. If he killed Torvilin, Summerhall might still have problems with Voltia. It was a last gamble to try and get Torvilin to back down and thereby avoid a fight altogether.
Robert waited to let it sink in and for the mutterings to subside. “Do you both wish to continue?”
Coran waited to see what his opponent’s answer would be. When he did answer it was only by nodding.
“I do,” Coran replied firmly. Maybe if Torvilin heard the resolve in his voice it might distract him in the fight by making him worry a little more.
People began moving out of the way and a wide, circular area was cleared under the tent. Coran unbuckled his sword belt, it was taken by Katelyn. He met her gaze, not sure what to say. When he opened his mouth she spoke first,
“I know. I am upset with my father too. But we can talk about that later. After.” She glanced at Torvilin who was wielding his own sword, and stretching his arms in preparation. She glanced back and shuddered. “Just concentrate on winning.”
He looked in her eyes and behind the controlled exterior he saw fear. Fear of Torvilin winning and more fear for Coran losing. He forced himself to smile reassuringly. “I won’t let you down.” He grabbed the hilt of his sword and drew it from the sheath she held with a long rasping sound.
She backed away to where Alys stood as he turned to face his opponent.
“Good luck,” Devon said as he came up behind him.
“Thanks.”
Devon wore a serious expression on his young face. “I want you to know, if ...if you lose, I will not let him have her.” There was no need to explain what he meant.
“And defy a proclamation of the High King?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
Coran would, and he knew Devon meant every word. “I guess I will have to win to keep you from the headsman.”
Devon smiled thinly. “I would appreciate that.” Then he clasped Coran on the shoulder. The hand slipped away and Coran stepped forward to meet his fate.
Robert stood among the circle of onlookers. “I will make this clear for the sake of the witnesses so there will be no misunderstandings later on. By command of the High King, the victor of this duel shall wed his daughter, Katelyn Sundarrion. At the conclusion of the fight they will be considered officially betrothed. The loser will give up any claim to her hand in marriage.” He scanned the score of nobles watching. “Is that clear?” Twenty or so heads nodded in agreement. “Then let it begin.”
If Torvilin showed any sign of wavering before it was gone now. He came forward confidently, a trained warrior ready to fight. He went for a quick strike aimed at Coran’s sword, hoping to catch him unprepared. Coran lifted his hand to avoid it and countered. A thin line of red showed in the tear of the Voltian’s sleeve. Torvilin’s lip curled up into a snarl as he moved to attack again.
Katelyn watched in fascination as the two men flowed across the open ground, switching from attacker to defender and back again so fast that she could not tell who occupied which role. She had seen men training against one another, but this was different. With two men of such skill it was more like watching a deadly dance than a simple fight.
Torvilin was bleeding from three wounds but they appeared minor. She watched as Coran took a slash across the chest, but he jumped backwards in time to avoid the worst of it. She thought watching him ride
in the tournament was stressful. That was nothing compared to this. Her future, and his as well, were at stake. One mistake and everything would be over with the thrust of a sword.
She could see that Coran was weakening. He was breathing heavy and stood more hunched over than before. The chest wound might have been more severe than she first thought. Luckily, Torvilin was moving slower as well. The Prince took a step back with his sword lowered. Coran copied the move to accept the signal for a brief recess.
“Your reputation is well deserved,” Coran complimented his opponent. “I will have an inscription made saying how skilled you are, and have it placed on your grave.”
“You are quite good yourself,” Torvilin replied. By his tone it was clear who he thought was superior. “It is too bad you will not live long enough to gain a reputation of your own.”
Coran’s tight-lipped smile was forced. “I think we should finish this, unless you need more time?”
“Not me,” Torvilin slid forward and raised the point of his sword. “Ready?”
The fight continued, anger fueling their movements. Torvilin’s thrust went a little higher than it should have and Coran dodged, bringing the point of his own sword down. The Prince cried out as it went through his upper leg. He still struggled to maintain his stance. Desperate, he tried to attack, but Coran easily parried the weak strike, and a following swipe sent Torvilin’s sword to the ground with a thump. Coran put the tip of his blade under the Prince’s chin. “Do you yield?” he asked with a hint of pain in his own voice.
Torvilin snarled. He was sweating profusely. He could not remain standing for much longer. Blood was beginning to soak through his pant leg. “I yield.”
Coran did not remove his sword yet. He looked angry and Katelyn wondered if he was considering no quarter. The few seconds that passed seemed like hours. “Do you, in front of these witnesses, swear to renounce now, and for all time, any claim of marriage to either Katelyn or her sister?”
Fire And Ice (Book 1) Page 12