I nodded at him. “I should be used to your absurd silliness by now. I should have known you were speaking in jest, but I did not know Lord Cael was like you in that regard.”
“He is,” Kurit confirmed. “He may be ten years my senior, but who do you think taught me how to be such a rogue? Certainly not my father. I acquired this regrettable jesting attitude from him.”
“It’s not entirely regrettable,” I said to him quietly.
“Really?” he asked, seeming genuinely surprised.
“I adore you when you’re silly. Most of the time.”
“Oh, I see,” he said, raising his eyebrows mockingly. “Would you adore it if I were to, say, reach over and tickle you, here in front of all these people?” He gave me a wicked grin that implied he meant the threat.
“No, I most certainly would not adore that!” I whispered, wide-eyed, leaning to the opposite side of my chair.
He leaned right over both chairs to growl at me, “Well then, I’ll save that for later.” I shoved him back into his seat, and we laughed as the call to begin the tournament echoed over the field.
I watched for too long as perhaps forty young men beat each other bloody with false wooden swords in a ridiculous series of mock battles, just for the apparent honour of being my Champion. Thankfully, there were few serious injuries, but nonetheless I was suitably revolted.
Kurit asked me early on if I was unwell because I had gone pale at the sight of one young fellow’s forearm being broken.
“Is this really necessary?” I said, averting my eyes.
“You should be flattered, Aenna. They suffer these things in an attempt to be worthy to be your Champion.”
“Ugh, I don’t imagine I need a Champion. Why can’t you just be my Champion?”
“I’m flattered you’d consider me, dear,” he said, kissing my hand.
“Then why can’t we just say that you are and end this carnage?”
“Because I’m not allowed to be your Champion. Royal women are to be protected day in and day out by their Champions. I’m supposed to have enough other things to do that, in theory, I cannot be worried at every moment for you. Of course, I shall always be concerned for you in every moment, but I suppose I shall worry less as long as Jarik is with you. That’s the point. If he’s watching over you, I don’t have to panic if you’re not within my sight.”
“Then why can’t I just declare Jarik my Champion and be done with it?” I asked as one of the nearby duels resulted in a spray of blood when an older man took his wooden sword to another man’s nose. I cringed.
Kurit saw my reaction and said, “Don’t look at it if it bothers you. I’m surprised it does, though, since you’re usually far from squeamish.”
“It’s not the blood, it’s the implied pain that bothers me. And you didn’t answer my question.” I looked to the other end of the field where Jarik fought some poor fool. I decided to keep my eye on Jarik, as he was unlikely to be bludgeoned as the others were. His skill was actually quite a remarkable sight. He easily parried the blows that came his way, dancing around his opponent almost joyfully.
“You can’t just choose a Champion. First of all, it would be unseemly because it might imply that you have romantic feelings for him. Secondly—and you won’t like this part—it’s assumed that no proper lady could possibly know or understand enough about danger or fighting or any such thing, so she couldn’t possibly make a sound decision.”
I gave him a narrow-eyed glare for that comment.
“Don’t be angry with me! I know that you know better!” he said quickly, holding his hands up in placation. “But that’s the assumption. And I can’t choose for you, because I might choose my friend over someone more worthy. It’s considered a very serious position and must not be allowed to be tainted by any possible bias or scandal. So a tournament is held, and the man who proves himself there before all of the witnesses gathered is known to be the best man available for the duty. Plus, believe it or not, most of these people enjoy the tournaments.”
That was certainly evident by the cheering and enthusiasm of the crowd. “It’s barbaric,” I muttered. “It’s something the Wusul would do.”
“Hardly. These men are all participating voluntarily and for a worthy goal. The Wusul make their male slaves fight to the death for amusement.”
“Who is your mother’s Champion?” I muttered to him, pitying the poor man in my mind.
Kurit’s face took on an uncomfortable look, but he answered me nonetheless. “Jarik’s father was. Before he married my father’s sister. He resigned the position when he married. It’s a very long, complex story that no one likes to talk about. It shall suffice to say that she has no official Champion now because she won’t suffer to allow anyone such authority, and no man seems willing to suffer her abuse. It’s quite improper on all counts, but understandably, no one has yet had the desire to set things right.”
I dropped the issue, not wishing to hear anything further about Kasha, whom I had noticed to be conspicuously absent since the wedding itself had ended. “When we were first coming to Endren, you said ‘your’ parents were deceased,” I said, giving him enough of a feigned dirty look to make him return a feigned sheepish one. “Can I assume that, in fact, Jarik’s parents are gone?”
Kurit nodded. “There was a fire. He was just a small child and was saved by his nurse. I had only just been born. That was why he was sent to be raised by his uncle, my father. Don’t ask Jarik about his parents, Aenna. If you think he’s been oddly morose lately, you don’t want to know how he can be when missing the family he hardly knew.”
“Kurit, that’s so tragic,” I said. I looked over where Jarik fought with such strength, and the idea of him feeling such loss broke my heart.
Kurit nodded and said, “Yes. Let’s not speak of such things. This is supposed to be a happy day, Aenna.” He made what seemed to be a forced little smile and kissed my hand.
Our attention returned to the tournament, which did little to cheer my mood. Being flattered by the intent of these men, however, I was sure to applaud the winners of each bout in due course. The numbers dwindled, and as the sky changed colour with the impending sunset, it came down to Jarik and a fierce young man—barely a boy, in my opinion, with his baby-smooth face—by the name of Zajen, a relative of Lord Kiene of Asune. I had never seen the boy before and had no notion as to why he battled so vehemently on my behalf. He had fought with skill throughout the afternoon, but what had kept him winning was a relentless pursuit that drove his opponents quickly to stumble or make a mistake.
Jarik and Zajen bowed to me. I expected to see confidence on Jarik’s face—he was at least double the size of the younger man—but his countenance was wisely controlled as the fight began.
It was an amazing thing to behold: two warriors of very different but almost equal skill, clashing wooden swords together in a flurry of repeated strikes and parries, making quite the racket. Four times the wooden swords were cracked right through—three times for Zajen as he would manage to stave off one of Jarik’s heavy blows. Both men would pause where they were while a boy would run out with a replacement and scoop the broken bits away. Then they would continue to lunge at each other.
The first half of the fight had Zajen attacking Jarik continually, though the larger man held his ground with some effort. Zajen bounced about, hacking wildly, never landing a blow on Jarik’s body. Jarik made few attempts to strike back, and soon I realized his strategy was to let the boy tire himself out. Jarik’s face was sweaty with effort but bore no expression of anger or strain.
As the poor boy began to indeed tire, Jarik was able to strike back. He landed a serious blow to Zajen’s arm, forcing the young man to fight with the wrong hand thereafter. It was not long until Jarik struck him with several other sound wallops, eventually knocking the wind out of him sufficiently that he grew weak.
Still, brave young Zajen did not relent. He fought on until Jarik finally won by knocking the sword out of his h
and, sending it flying out towards the field. Zajen fell to his knees, exhausted and defeated, as a thunderous cheer erupted from the audience. Always the gentleman, Jarik stuck his false sword into the ground and offered a hand to help the boy to his feet. Zajen managed to stand, bow in respect, and wobble away to the physician’s tent.
Proudly and with a beaming smile as I had never seen before on good Jarik’s face, he turned to me and exclaimed, “By right of this tournament, I claim the title of Champion to the Princess Aenna!” Cheers rung out again as he bowed deeply.
“Go give him a maidenly kiss on the cheek,” Kurit whispered. “It’s appropriate, and I’ll enjoy watching him blush!”
I laughed and left my seat to go to Jarik. He knelt as I approached, took my hand, and kissed it decorously. As he rose, I took his face in my hands and planted a kiss on his cheek. He pretended to stumble backwards, clasping his hands to his heart and grinning foolishly, as though I had moved him greatly. The crowd laughed and cheered anew. After that round of applause died out, they quickly dispersed, most of the lords and ladies eager to head into the palace for dinner.
“I feel as though I owe you a prize.” I said with a laugh as Jarik ran his hands through his sweaty hair. “You worked so hard for me, and I have nothing with me to give you in reward.”
“He’ll tell you now that being your Champion is the only prize that his noble heart desires,” Kurit teased as he approached.
“You’re lucky I’m too tired to swat you, little brat,” Jarik responded, visibly exhausted but still smiling nonetheless.
An idea struck, so I walked quickly back to the stands to pluck a flower out of the garlands. I chose a budding white one that was around the back where it had not wilted in the hot sun. As I walked back to them, I pulled out one of the many green ribbons that was entwined in the bushel of ringlets at the back of my head. I tied it in a bow around the flower and presented it to Jarik.
“It’s not much, but here is a token prize of thanks,” I said with a happy smile.
For a moment I thought I had offended him, perhaps by offering him a prize when one was not expected, for his proud grin faded as he beheld my gift, small in his large hands. Then he looked at me with such tender fondness and said softly, “That is very thoughtful of you. I shall cherish your gift, Aenna. Thank you.”
It was a heavy moment. Jarik stared at me with unwavering appreciation, and Kurit’s face took on an odd, vaguely jealous look. Before it all could become too overwhelming, I forced myself to smile at them both and took a hand from each of them in my own.
“Come then, I am hungry. I want my dear husband and my dear Champion to escort me back for our dinner!” I happily demanded. The strange moment broken, they both smiled and led me to the waiting coach.
Dinner was pleasant, and afterwards we all went to the ballroom to dance. My first few, of course, were with my dear new husband, whom I allowed to entrap me in that addictive eye contact Jarik had warned me about. I wish I knew what words would properly describe my ultimate joy in those moments, but every phrase that comes to mind seems either to miss the mark or sound superfluous.
I danced also with King Tarken, who kept whispering to me to stop being so nervous. He laughed at my girlish little blushes and spun me about quickly and merrily. When the song ended, I caught a glimpse of Kasha’s fury from a back corner of the room but quickly ignored her before the King would notice and feel badly for me.
Soon Jarik joined us, having taken the time during dinner to bathe and change his clothes. He danced with me happily but making an obvious effort to not catch my eye. Poor, wonderful Jarik, I thought. He worked so hard this afternoon for me, yet here he works again to ensure that I do not appear unseemly.
Lord Cael asked for the next dance, but just then the musicians decided to take a short break. I promised to find him when the music began again. He bowed with a flourish in reply and said, “Just don’t seek me too eagerly, Your Highness, or your husband shall accuse me of further treachery!”
I laughed as he strode away. Then, Leiset was behind me, tapping my shoulder.
“Aenna, I must go now, but I wanted to ensure there was nothing else you wanted taken along to the cottage.”
“No,” I said as I walked with her towards the door. “We went over everything a thousand times last night. Anything forgotten deserves to be so. I feel badly that you have to go so soon.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said happily. “I don’t care for dancing and such silliness anyway. It’s my duty to go have your room prepared for you. Gilrin may seem very uppity and dull, but I’ve been told that in private he shares many a delicious story of gossip, so my trip shouldn’t be boring!”
“I do appreciate it, though.”
“I know. That’s what makes my job so pleasant: I know I’m appreciated. I’m so happy for you, Aenna. Your face is alight with joy!”
I embraced her fondly, and she returned the gesture in kind. “I am joyous. And relieved and excited and …” I sighed, unable to express the thousands of words for my feelings.
Leiset ended the embrace and said, “And you deserve it. Now I must run, or Gilrin will be in a foul mood and the trip won’t be so delightful.” She hurried away as I watched her go.
“You know, it really is terribly inappropriate to be seen embracing one’s maidservant,” came a menacing voice behind me. I turned to find Sashken standing there, arms crossed in disapproval. “But then, I suppose that you are closer to her station after all, so perhaps the friendship is natural.”
Her obvious attempt to infuriate me almost worked, but I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile at her and speak sweetly. “I suppose it is a natural friendship indeed, and I am glad of it.”
She looked at me disdainfully, shaking her head in disgust. “It really is sad. Poor Kurit. He has no idea how disappointed he soon shall be.”
“Disappointed?” I repeated questioningly.
“How could he not be? When he discovers that his new bride is a fat, bloated peasant under her fancy dress and that she has no notion of how to please a man, he will most certainly regret his foolish choice,” she said coldly.
I forced myself again to smile sweetly and said in a voice that positively dripped with sugar and honey, “Indeed? Well, I cannot predict the future, but I do know in his past he has been suitably revolted by skinny, conniving naked women who attempt to seduce him in his sleep. Revolted enough to even cast such a whore from his chambers, if you can imagine such a scene. I should think that in the many times he has kissed me, expressing his desires to me in poetic words of love, that he might have had a notion that I am indeed what he wants in a woman. But thank you for your dear concern, Sashken. When we return and I am carrying his child as a result of our passions, perhaps then you shall have greater faith in the wisdom of your future King.”
Grinning as she stood, mouth agape, in shock and jealous hatred, I swept away from her as grandly as I knew how. Inside, my stomach quivered with nervousness at having stood up to her, but my heart was full with pride and joy that I had done it so successfully. I resisted the urge to skip as I went to where Kurit stood, laughing in conversation with some lord or other.
“There you are,” he said as I took his arm and led him to the dance floor. “Why do you look as though you’ve just won a great battle? Your smile threatens to reach your ears, silly girl!”
As we began to dance I quietly said, “Because I just told Sashken that I know what she tried with you last week, and that you were revolted because I am the woman that you truly desire.”
“You didn’t!” he laughed.
“I did! She tried to upset me with some nonsense about how disappointed you would be tonight.” I reiterated word for word what had been said, watching his eyes grow wide and his jaw drop in merry disbelief. When I finished he spun me around the floor until he could see her. Finally we located her, standing in the shadows with Kasha, weeping pitifully.
Kurit turned his gaze back to me in
wonderment. I shrugged and put on an air of defiant pride. He threw his head back and laughed uproariously, garnering many a strange glance from those who danced nearby.
“Oh, my Aenna, you are unbelievable! Just when I think I’ve seen the limit of your boldness, you put that little harlot in her place!” He swung me about in delight and then tipped me back to kiss me. It may have been somewhat inappropriate, but we were married now and I didn’t care who saw us. He pulled me back up quickly, laughing loudly again. “By the Gods, I love you!” he exclaimed.
For the rest of the evening, every time I smiled at him he burst into laughter, even if it was from across the room. He must have told Jarik the story, for soon the tired warrior was responding in kind, though not as boisterously.
Chapter 10
WHEN IT WAS time to go after we had said our formal good-byes, Kurit escorted me out to the courtyard where the royal coach waited for us. The night air had grown colder than I had anticipated, and my bare arms turned prickly in the wind.
“Kurit, it’s rather chilly. I should fetch a wrap,” I said, turning to go back inside.
“No need for that,” he said. He removed his splendid green wedding cloak and wrapped it around me. “There you are. I don’t need it with these half-sleeves.”
“Thank you,” I said, smiling. “Tell me,” I whispered to him, “are you being gallant or just that eager to be on our way?”
He winked and whispered, “A little bit of both, dearest.”
“Fair enough,” I said, feigning innocence. “Let’s be off, then.”
Kurit scampered to the coach and graciously helped me step up inside. He closed my door and ran around to enter from the other side, telling the coachman and six guards on horseback to start as he closed his door. Taking his seat beside me, he swiftly put a finger beneath my chin, tipped my face upwards and kissed me hard. Then he pulled me close to him and wrapped his arms tightly around me. I just grinned a foolish, happy grin.
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