Rosie yanked her sword out of the scabbard, the light of the trees glinting down the pinkish-red blade. With her left hand, she tucked the scabbard in tight to the side, her body moving into position. Eldon stared at her, a scoff building in his throat. "Uh, honey, if you want to go put down the not-blade part I'll wait."
Her eyes honed in on him, the neck, the groin, the open chest, the exposed arm. Each look dissected the man into the breakable sections of a dummy. "No," Rosie snarled and she lifted her blade across her chest.
Eldon shrugged, "Okay, then." He swung first, attempting to plow his way through Rosie's defenses. The broadsword smashed into hers, the clanging noise reverberating through her ears, but barely a tremble reaching her fingers gripping tight against the barrage. It was a very good sword.
When the first two didn't work, Eldon tried the exact same thing. Rosie danced backwards, her steps bringing her closer to the fountain while the seconds dashed with to keep tabs. "Come now," Eldon sighed, his arm barely slowing while he spoke, "you've had your fun, but this is pointless." Each slash of his blade cut closer to her, Rosie having to counter left then right to match them. He wasn't holding back, the man willing to risk harming her to get what he wanted. She may as well be a white haired stag in his mind.
"Put down your sword," Eldon paused with his arm lifted, fully exposing his chest, but Rosie froze as well. Her fingers gripped tighter to the scabbard as she knocked the back of her heels into the fountain. "Let's finish this properly like civilized gentry."
She locked in her shoulders, her eyes narrowing to slits. The man barely waited for her answer before he ran forward. Sliding to the side and easily avoiding the man's attack, Rosie whacked into him with the scabbard. The leather and metal dull end jabbed into Eldon's side as he failed to account for the sudden fountain. Tumbling forward, knees banging against the barrier, he face planted right into the inch deep water and stone edifice.
Rosie twisted around, her toes digging a line in the dirt of the filthy stones of the courtyard. She watched as the man wrenched himself free of the fountain and landed on his knees, his face and hair covered in moldy green water. Hissing, Eldon touched his nose and flinched. A trickle of blood dripped from where it plowed into the bottom of the fountain.
"There," Cailan shouted, jabbing a finger at Eldon who was fuming, "first blood. Rossie won!" He reached over to grab his sister's hand in triumph, but whispered, "And now we can stop this madness."
"No!" Eldon shrieked, swiping harder at his nose and smearing the scarlet blood across his face. "It is not over."
"You're bleeding, mate. You're still bleeding. Those are the rules," Cailan tried to explain as if he was the master of duels.
"I am the wounded party," Eldon jabbed a finger at his chest, puffing it up higher, "I decide what we fight and when it's done."
"Are you flipping loony?" Cailan honed in on the man lifting up his blade, "You can't possibly want to fight to the death. Who wants to die?"
"Cailan," she reached over to get her brother's attention. He whipped his head, his face curled up in total confusion, "get out of the way." Rosie raised up her blade and stared only at Eldon.
Her brother took a moment, remaining in the middle of them before he threw up both hands and walked away muttering, "Fine. But if dad asks, I tried."
Ignoring her brother, Rosie twisted her chin at the man who wasn't going to stop until he got what he wanted, or couldn't have it anymore. Eldon spat at the ground, his blood staining the stones of Redcliffe. There was likely to be more before this was over. Raising his blade, he decided to get crafty and go for the defensive mode. Rosie's eyes darted up and down his form as she began to shift her feet in a circle.
Eldon attempted to follow, his eyes practically ripping her to shreds as they danced around each other. Every slight shift of hers caused him to flinch and react, but neither would meet. Around her, she could hear the others all chattering in anticipation.
"Just do it already!"
"Stab someone!"
"Do duels always take this long?"
Rosamund didn't follow any of the voices, she blocked them all out, even her sister who seemed to be trying to pry commentary from her squire. No, all that mattered was the man whose arm was beginning to wane from his far too large sword. "Lord Eldon," she said, standing up straighter.
He jumped a bit at that, struggling to maintain his form. That was when Rosie attacked. Her first move was obvious, slow and laborious. It struck against the left side, rattling down his far cheaper blade and shaking his fist. But the man didn't let go. He seemed incapable of such a thing. "You were wrong," she sneered, twisting around to attack from the right.
Eldon gasped, driving his blade down. It sent Rosie's sword skittering back, barely escaping before he would have pinned it down to the ground. "That so?" he snarled, not happy about being called out.
"I do know all about you," she turned, striking faster than seemed possible while the man raced to bash each one away. With his larger blade it was easier to form a wall, but he was already gasping in breaths to keep going, his arm waning from the weight.
"About your ramshackle family and its struggles to keep a grip upon fortunes of old turned to bare coffers." Spinning in place, Rosie met the man's blade up high, stretching herself foolishly. Eldon tried to lash out with his foot and kick her back, but she darted away fast.
The man spat on the ground, more blood staining it, as he began to stomp after her. She didn't have far to go, Rosie trying to eye up an opportunity while the wolf circled beside her. Turning on a dime, she barely met the man's blade from slicing into her neck. He sneered, his putrid breath washing over her face while bloody saliva dripped near her dress.
Shoving with all the force in her arms, Rosie twisted the man off her, his rabid spit falling to the ground instead of on her. "About how you can barely form a claim to your father's lands, never mind a crown."
Eldon's eyes lit up and he tipped his shoulder down. No longer caring about the finesse of the duel, he ran right at Rosie. She tried to raise her sword but it wouldn't make it in time. Steam practically poured out of the man's nose as he tipped his head back like a wild beast and screamed. Just before he was about to smash into her and lay her out, Rosie's left hand lashed forward.
The scabbard bit hard into Eldon's knees, sounds of cracking bone erupting through the still crowd. Shrieking in pain, the man tried to twist away while also trailing Rosie, but he was too slow. Not exhausted, she easily turned on a dime and drew her blade over the back of the man's thighs. His trousers split wide open, a sharp line as thin as a single strand of spiderweb quickly welling up and dripping blood down his legs.
Eldon drew a hand over the back of his knees and found it coated in more blood. He could end this, walk away. But the man looked beyond reproach now. Forgetting the injury, Eldon staggered up to his height and fixed both hands around his sword.
"And I know, Eldon," Rosie taunted, rising up on her toes to easily slide backwards with sure steps. "I know..." she began when the man ran forward, the blade extended off his right side. She swung fast, nearly slicing apart his gut from the left. Eldon had to turn to avoid it, but that was what she was counting on.
With her left hand, she slid her own scabbard over the man's sword, effectively blunting it to nothing. He gasped at the move, his eyes bugging in surprise, when Rosie turned her wrist and bashed the pommel of her sword right into Eldon's already bloody nose. His head snapped back, Rosie following up with another to the gut.
When she kicked his knee, the man crumpled, falling to the ground in a groan of agony. Rosie was quick to leap on top, her blade right to his neck. "I know that you leave your left side wide open in a sword fight. I know all that and more because that is what I do and why you would never be King. Now...yield or I will slice open your throat and you will bleed all over the stones of this palace."
His eyes glared murder at the woman who could easily do it to him. She sneered right back, ready to finish
this. Extending his arm, Eldon laid his sword upon the ground and muttered, "I yield."
"What was that?" Rosie tipped her head to the side.
"I said, I yield!" Rising back up to her feet, she kept her sword point trained upon his neck until she kicked his blade away.
Certain he couldn't leap up fast to stab her in the back, she wafted her sword away from his neck. "And you shall never marry me."
"No, your Majesty, I have no intentions to suffer your visage or your wretched voice, ever again," Eldon hissed, rolling to his hands and feet.
No doubt she was supposed to feel slighted for such a thing, but Rosie smiled, "Good." Placing a boot down upon the man's hilt, she yanked free her scabbard. "If I were you, I'd work on your form before you agree to anymore duels," she added while sheathing her blade.
Stepping away from Eldon while his second tried to mop up the blood, Rosie lifted her head when a chorus of applause began around her. She turned to catch Myra with her fingers in her mouth, whistling as loud as she could. Cailan, the man as white as a sheet, stumbled over to ask, "Is it over? Please tell me it's over."
Ignoring her people bowled over to learn their princess could fight, Rosie focused all her attention upon the beautiful shining face of one woman. Anjali's lips lifted in a smile and she tipped her head in a slight bow to Rosie's accomplishment. Running her tongue over her lips, Rosie knew exactly how she planned to celebrate.
"Yes," she nodded at her brother and tossed him the sword he barely caught, "it's over."
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Peachy
Salt pooled on the side her chin, right into a divot some people would nicely call a dimple. But dimples only appeared when a person smiled, made 'em seem all cute and innocent. Her divot popped up when she would snarl, or was trying to gnaw through a five day old pretzel rod. Someone laid a stash of them out for the servants before the big trip back to the road. Myra was surprised to find so many left, until she began to chew away on it. Even a mabari would cash in after one bite.
Still...it gave her something to do. Getting on the road sounded good. Redcliffe wasn't bad all things considered, but there was a lot more interesting out there. Plus, it was far easier for her to vanish into the night when there weren't another dozen of Teagan's stoolies dashing about to the tents in the caravan. She hadn't even had a chance to touch Gavin since Rosie caught her in the kitchen.
Oh right. The rainstorm. Which was fun, up until Snowy rolled in and they all learned how to properly cheat at Diamondback without getting caught. Her always law abiding boyfriend flinched at the thought, but Myra was itching to try out her skills on a new target. Maybe Cailan?
Rounding up the stairs, which she took three at a time, Myra turned to find Tess standing in the hallway calmly twisting a needle through a hoop of brown linen. Whatever she was embroidering, it was still at the squiggles stage -- or maybe Tess sucked at it. Myra never hung around long enough to find out how it worked.
"Hey," she called to the least annoying handmaiden. The woman glanced up from her work, her eyebrow raised in consideration of the greeting but her mouth too pursed to offer one back. Out of all the super fancy ladies that surrounded her sister, Tess was the only one with short hair. It was cropped so tight it could be confused for a boy's, but it worked wonders for her fine features -- the tiny nose in particular. Absently, Myra ran her fingers down her longer honker. She had so much elven blood in her, it was a wonder they let her out of the alienage, but somehow she got stuck with her dad's nose.
Trying to shake it off, Myra tipped her head towards the rooms awarded to their beloved Princess. "I'm gonna go see Rosie," she said, barely knowing why beyond something to do. She expected Tess to sigh, or wave her hands, but the woman's head shot up and panic erupted in her eyes.
"No!"
"No?"
"My Lady has...she's suffering from a headache and required a lie down."
Myra snorted at that. "Don't worry, that little pissant she diced to pieces has already left the castle. Henry made damn certain." She moved to open the door, when Tess grabbed onto her hand. The woman's eyes bored into Myra's face as if the touch should send the bastard daughter scampering away, but Myra smiled, "I'll be quiet and not bang around, I promise."
Keeping her sight upon Tess, Myra tugged on the latch. The handmaiden could have fought her, wrestled against the longer, lankier one and probably lost, but she didn't. With a guarded sigh, Tess slid back to her place standing against the wall. Did Rosie know her friend was just wandering around right outside her door keeping people from entering?
Tess either deserved better pay, or to have someone investigate her connections and make certain there weren't any dead princesses in her past. Shaking her head, Myra slid into the luxurious trappings only a legitimate child of the king would receive.
Okay, her room was nice too. And she got the one with the secret passage that led down to the dungeons. Which she was not supposed to know about, or find, or use to sneak all the way under the lake. Nope. Not at all.
But Rosie's was gigantic, the sitting room capable of housing a bear...if one of them felt the need to go fully civil and stop all that crapping in the woods stuff. A great fire roared in a hearth that could spit roast a stag, again, if the bear grew peckish in the night. Handfuls of paintings of people Myra didn't recognize nor care to know filled out the decor, but the largest practically filled a wall. It had a man, a woman, and a boy around age ten standing for their portrait. The man was already white haired while the woman clearly blonde, and the boy with soft, weepy eyes. Whoever they were, they must have mattered for someone to waste so much paint on them.
No doubt the bear would be impressed. She tapped a finger to her chin, twisting her head while staring out the window. A thin balcony rested behind, only suitable for pigeons and any wayward girls who were prone to feats of neck-break threatening. In truth, she didn't really have much to say to Rosie -- who must be behind one of the closed doors napping away her headache. But the way Tess rose up to defend the door, Myra had to get inside. It was practically bred into her bones.
She might be able to shimmy down to a lower level and knock in a window to slip out, leaving Tess very confused and Rosie unaware. Wanting to attempt the challenge, Myra moved to the window and ran her fingers over the latch. It was a tricky one, both the top and bottom bolted. Probably in the event any bears did try to climb to the room.
Staggering up onto her tiptoes, Myra strained to reach the top latch without dragging over a stool when she heard the door behind her open. With her body stretched as far as it could go, she pivoted her head to look over her shoulder as Rosie stepped through the door. Her stick straight hair looked like a shrew dug into the back and went mad making a nest. But she didn't seem to care; a fat, stupid smile on her face as she stretched a moment.
Myra was about to announce herself, when her sister turned on her toes and cupped a hand around a second body that was hiding back inside the bedroom.
Hello...
Holding in a breath and trying to shrink as far from view as possible without moving, Myra watched as Rosie puckered up to kiss whoever had been 'alleviating her headache.' Her sister was practically giddy, laughing and blushing as she tugged on the hand of her paramour. Rosie began to speak about whatever matter was on her mind, when... Oh Maker. The assassin stepped out from behind the door, her clothes adjusted properly, but wearing the same sloppy smile.
Dad was gonna be pissed.
Unaware of anyone watching, Anjali pulled on Rosie's hand and her sister tumbled back towards the woman. Both their hands wrapped around each other, guiding back for another kiss before they had to return to the real world. Myra strained, but her warped muscles were starting to go. A burn erupted up her calf and before she could get in a breath, her body bounced into the window.
Both of the lovers whipped their head over at the girl who rebounded fast off the glass and spun in place. Flipping her braid back and forth, Myra waved, "Hi!" her tone as innoc
ent as she could make it.
"What are you...?" Rosie's mouth dropped down, her jaw practically dislocating as she realized her sister caught her red handed. Red lipped too.
"Thought I'd pop by, see how things are going..." Myra explained, before tipping her head down and muttering, "Better than I expected, for sure."
"Myra," her sister swallowed hard, the woman ratcheting in her spine as if she could command her to forget everything she saw, "Whatever you think you witnessed is..."
Snorting, Myra placed a hand to her hip and sighed. She looked past Rosie to Anjali and said, "Does that ever work?"
"No," the assassin admitted, her fingers drifting near Rosie but not quite touching.
"Come here, Sis," Myra waved a hand through the air, trying to guide Rosie to her.
"Why?" Rossie remained rooted to the spot, as if she feared Myra was about to run through the castle and tattle on her.
"So we can have a heart to heart talk," Myra said, her tone laughing. Suddenly, she dropped her eyes and in a stripped voice said, "Like in the kitchens."
"Oh," Rosie bobbed her head, the burn on her cheeks lightening a step before she turned to her girlfriend, "Could you give us a minute?"
"Are you certain?" Anjali darted her eyes over at Myra who smiled sweetly. Even if the assassin was going to try anything, Myra could easily pivot out the window. For all of Anjali's darting moves with the daggers it was unlikely she could follow.
Rosie placed her palm to Anjali's cheek, her hand falling along with the assassin's glare, "Yes, it will be all right."
The woman nodded, but didn't seem wild about it. She grabbed onto the latch about to open the door, when Myra called out, "You can kiss goodbye. I don't care."
"I will return to the squires," Anjali said instead, her eyes warily trailing Myra who plopped down into the biggest, overstuffed chair she ever sat in. The cushions practically dented a foot when her ass fell into it. If she weren't so tall, it might swallow her legs whole. Maker, Rosie had to look hilarious sitting in it.
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