“Thanks,” Rhone grunted.
“How is Monikah doing?”
“Good.”
Shard struggled against a smile. “Her Time Teller is ingenious. Has she invented much else?”
“She changes the Ire more and more each day. Landon and the queen have both requested a Time Teller from her after seeing it at work.”
The dog-sledder-gone-trainer had never spoken so much to Shard. Ever. “I am happy for you both,” he said, recovering. “And I wish the Ire success.”
“We don’t need it,” Rhone answered, walking off.
Always nice talking to the Ire trainer.
“Shard,” the queen said, hurrying up to him with Kendra. “I’ve just fed her. Could you hold her while I take my turn?”
“Of course.” He took the kicking babe and placed her over his shoulder, patting her back.
She threw him a grateful look and hurried away.
Kendra burped loudly and gurgled, booting him in the stomach. He pulled her away and smiled down. Cobalt blue eyes stared up at him, just like her mother’s. The princess’s hair would be lighter than Lina’s, but darker than her father’s.
The baby wasn’t as tiny as he expected female infants on Osolis were—or at least as small as he would’ve expected the queen to be as a baby. Would she be Jovan’s height? Or caught between?
He blew in her face, grinning at her high-pitched giggles.
“I want one of you,” he confided in her. “If I can actually get the mother, that is. If I do, you could have a playmate. Would you like a playmate?”
Kendra vomited milk down over the front of her tunic.
Shard stopped bouncing her. “Guess that’s a no. Don’t worry, that’s what the mother thinks of me most of the time. It’s a work in progress.”
He used the bottom of her stained tunic to clean her face. Was that all he was meant to do?
Lina was hurrying back and Shard glanced past her to study her three shots. Perfect. All three of them.
Shard extended the baby toward her, but Kendra was scooped up by the solid wall of muscle that was her father.
“Kendraaa,” he said, nuzzling her. “Hey, she’s getting good at crawling, Lina. Look.”
The king placed her down.
“Okay, Jovan,” Lina said. “But could you please not put her in the blood-soaked sand? I like those clothes.”
“They’re already dirty,” he protested.
Lina placed her hands on her hips. “You change her then,” she thundered.
Jovan picked up Kendra’s feet in one hand and dangled her upside-down as he strode to his queen. The king drew her in close and held their giggling daughter aloft as he delivered a hearty kiss to his wife.
Shard cocked an eyebrow at the crowd, who were going berserk over the display of affection. Yet he doubted either of the royals even noticed.
Soon, the break was at an end, and Shard competed in the events for dagger, sword, bow, and spear in turn.
Only the top six would make the finals tomorrow, and aside from making sure he did as well as possible to rank high for the overall goal—even with dagger—Shard had no idea how well he’d done.
Watching the other competitors was getting to him, especially as his weakest event loomed.
Shard wasn’t of normal height for a Bruma, standing a good head shorter than most. Solati rivalled Bruma for height, despite their lean build, and the Ire folk were a mix. Needless to say, most of the remaining strength contestants were from Glacium, with the Ire close behind. The Solati’s build didn’t lend itself to brute strength, though around ten had still made it into the top seventy.
One of the tests was wrestling—as he’d seen Jovan doing yesterday. Another was a boulder toss. And yesterday, the third had been as many repetitions of an exercise as possible. He hoped that held true today. Really, such an exercise was endurance, but Shard wasn’t complaining. Endurance he could do. And tossing an opponent from a ring was less about strength and more about actual fighting skill.
They were split into two groups of thirty-five and arranged into lines on either side of the ring.
The wrestling matches began.
Shard leaned out to watch as Rhone sent his opponent flying within minutes. This was just like any pit fight, he reminded himself as the next fighters entered the ring.
Eager for distraction, he turned his attention to the crowd. The three blocks of color were still visible. Only the odd flash of green, blue or orange amongst the other colors was apparent. But expecting the people to embrace each other so suddenly wasn’t realistic. The watchmen were there to ensure there wasn’t any fighting among the spectators. Less than two years had passed since a great number of people died because of warriors from the other worlds.
Add too much brew to those not-so-distant memories and there was potential for brawls.
The line whittled down until Shard was watching a fight between an Ire woman and Solati woman.
The winner was clear from the start. The Solati moved with grace he’d seen in the Elite—Landon’s personal guard. Still, the Ire woman held up for several minutes before being shoved out of the ring.
Shard glanced at his opponent. Landon.
Fuck.
Chapter Eleven
“You did pretty well considering it was Landon,” Alzona told him.
Shard shot her a look. “Thanks.”
“Just saying. No need to cry about it. You’re still in four categories.”
Ice—now out of the competition completely—lowered his goblet and wiped his mouth. “He’s after a girly, Alzona. Find your damn heart.”
She rolled her eyes. “Which is why he should take my advice. I’m all about women.”
Ice pondered that and hummed. “True.” He turned to Shard. “No need to cry about it.”
“No one else is in more than four categories,” Blizzard reminded him.
Shard knew that. Didn’t change the fact that the thought of tomorrow made him feel nauseated. Not only because of the result, but because he hadn’t seen or spoken to Arla today and didn’t know where he stood.
“Night,” he told everyone, waving away their complaints for him to stay longer.
Approaching the archway, Shard pulled up short at the sight of Drummond entering. An ugly purple-and-yellow bruise spread across his jaw.
Arla’s father stopped short and scowled.
“Evening, Drummond,” Shard said, searching his face.
He’d been at the fights today. Shard saw him. But what had been said between him and Arla? Or what had Drummond guessed by now?
“The king and queen have been informed of your Outer Rings behavior,” he said, drawing himself up.
Regardless of Arla’s love for her father, Shard wasn’t giving Drummond a hold over him. “I’ll hold my breath for the summons.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have actually hit his prospective father-in-law, but he couldn’t quite regret the action. Still, perhaps doing so wasn’t wise, considering Shard’s objective. Drummond usually sniffed when he saw Shard. He didn’t usually threaten him. His sentiment had flared from dislike to loathing, and now Drummond had a personal reason for deterring Arla.
His body would thank him for a trip to the hot baths, but Shard could only contemplate reaching his bed. And he should probably stretch again before that.
As it was, he groaned aloud upon reaching his chamber. Except the instant he rested his hand on the door, Shard halted.
Entering the room didn’t feel right. He wanted sleep, but Shard wanted something else too. Needed.
Pushing away from the heavy door, he continued down the hallway, rounding two corners before he stood before a chamber he’d often passed by, but never dared enter.
She probably wouldn’t even be in there.
He raised a hand to knock and the door swung open. Arla jerked, in the process of fastening a fur-lined dressing gown. The smooth skin of her breasts, stomach, and thigh flashed a bare instant before all was conceale
d again.
Shard cleared his throat, dragging his thoughts back to the present with a depth of will he hadn’t known he possessed. “U-uh.”
Arla colored. “Hello.”
They stared at each other.
“I was just coming to your chamber,” he said.
She shifted. “I was coming to yours.”
Really? “Why?”
Arla sucked in a breath and glanced over her shoulder and then down the hall. “Come inside.”
He felt like he was entering some mysterious treasure cave no one else had ever laid eyes on—though he knew her friends often gathered here.
Shard ambled into her chamber and circled the outside. As far as he knew, she’d lived in the castle for most of her life after the death of her mother. The room reflected that—it was far more personal than his own. He’d known powder blue was her favorite color, and it was clear in the décor. Blue cushions littered her bed over walnut furs; blue, white, and purple artwork and ornaments warmed the dark stone walls. A huge white rug covered the ground between the bed and door. Her space was neat and thoughtful and an insight into her mind.
“You were coming to see me?” he asked her, turning back to find Arla watching him.
She hugged herself and broke eye contact with him. Either she’d been coming to see him for an uncomfortable reason, or him being in here made her uneasy.
A large cushioned chair with a throw was tucked in the corner. “Do you mind if I sit?”
Arla nodded and didn’t move as he crossed to sit down.
“I was bringing some oils to help you recover,” she said at last.
Reaching into the square pocket on the front of her gown, Arla drew out three small bottles.
She continued. “You looked sore at dinner. I thought these might help. I didn’t know if you already had any.”
His chest filled with warmth at her uncertain gesture. In the brief silence, he could see her ice mask ready to slam back into place. “Thank you. I’ve never used oils. Can I see them?”
The beautiful woman traipsed over and passed them over one at a time. “Peppermint. Lavender. And then one from Osolis, turmeric. Lorna said it reduces swelling.”
He held the three bottles carefully. “You’ve spoken with Lorna?”
“I have. Sin introduced us.”
The night she’d danced in Sin’s arms darkened his thoughts and Shard frowned at the bottles. “I see.”
He watched her shuffling feet and shook away his jealousy. “So how do I use these?”
Relief colored her face. Shard wondered when Arla would confess that she’d been pretending to sleep with men for an entire year. He wouldn’t drag it out of her.
The confession felt like a conveyance of trust. One day she’d trust him. He was determined to wait.
“Well,” she stuttered, “I was coming over to rub them into you. Because I figured some areas would be hard to reach.”
Eighteen months without a woman in his bed, watching the female he loved from afar? Yes, he’d had fantasies. Often. He was a male. And those simple words obliterated even his best fantasy with her.
He shifted the bottles to cover his lap. “Was that your only intention in coming over? Because you’re only dressed in a robe and were coming over to massage my body. I don’t want to make assumptions here.”
She lifted her blue eyes from his lap to his face. “I could hardly come naked. And that’s how I sleep.”
Shard groaned aloud. “You just earned me sleepless nights for the next month.”
“Only a month?”
A year. A decade.
Arla flashed a grin and leaned down to take the bottles from him. He kept his eyes on her face through willpower alone, letting her take the oils.
“Take your clothes off and lie face-down on the bed.”
Shard’s brows crept upward. “Are you sure? I can ask someone else to do it . . . or get most areas by myself.”
“Just do it,” she snapped.
Amusement stirred within him. Without thinking, he took her hand and planted a soft kiss on the back of it. “As you say.”
Her breath caught and he glanced at her curiously, but Arla turned away to place the bottles on her dresser.
Shard studied her back, smiling.
He drew his tunic overhead and lay on his front across her bed. Her floral scent surrounded him immediately and Shard inhaled it on repeat, hoping she couldn’t tell.
“I meant your trousers too,” Arla said behind him.
“They stay on,” he answered firmly.
She laughed. A genuine laugh. “Why? You think I’ll take advantage of you?”
“No, I think there are seven years between us and that I’ll keep my trousers on. For now.”
He twitched as she pushed up the bottoms of his trousers and rested her warm, oil-slathered hands on his calf and began to work the oil in gently. He sighed and relaxed as she worked. The sight of her had jolted him awake, but his prior weariness came trickling back in.
“I’m no stranger to the bedroom.” She broke the quiet. “Does the age difference bother you?”
He managed a shrug. “Neither am I. And it doesn’t, no. All the same, my trousers will stay on.”
She fell silent again, working on his other calf with the oil.
“That feels incredible,” he whispered. “Just wake me up if I fall asleep.”
Arla hummed. “There’s a big bruise on your back.”
“Probably from where Landon chucked me on my ass,” he said, chuckling.
“How do you do that? Laugh about losing a fight? I’d be mortified.”
He stiffened. “Are you embarrassed of me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Shard relaxed. “Failure isn’t something to be afraid of. People who are will never grow, never experience, and never discover because their courage is confined to guaranteed success and how they appear.”
Her hands slowed. “You just described me,” she said hoarsely.
Reaching back, he grabbed her wrist. “No, I didn’t. You’re twenty years old, Arla. You’re allowed to be figuring things out. I speak of older people. Those who are at least twenty-one.”
Warmth suffused her voice. “Twenty-one? I better hurry and find my courage.”
“It’s within your grasp, beautiful woman,” he said, closing his eyes.
The bed bounced as she shifted farther up to begin work on his back. He groaned.
“Shard?”
“Arla?”
“I’m sorry for doing that to you with your tunic and the food you offered.”
“I know,” Shard said simply.
She continued working, but her voice was thick. “My father was watching. . . I needed time to figure things out. And. . .but all that was for naught. He guessed my feelings yesterday when he saw you fighting. I’m sure of it.”
Shard struggled to sift through what she’d said. Her words were a garbled mess, and to him that showed how lost and confused Arla was. Why should it matter if her father saw and guessed anything? And had she needed time to figure out her feelings for Shard or to figure out a way for Drummond to accept her feelings for Shard. The two seemed intermeshed.
“Did he say anything to you?” Shard probed, a wrinkle between his brows.
“. . . No. That’s how I know. He didn’t get angry, he got quiet. Contemplative quiet.” Weariness echoed in her voice.
He seconded her observations of Drummond. In a loud man, quiet contemplation didn’t bode well. The difference was, Shard didn’t care and she did. But also, Arla had a father and Shard did not.
He had his own reservations about her plan, and he’d voiced them, but Arla had to figure the rest out for herself. If Shard inserted himself between the woman he loved and the only family member left to her, his odds of winning were too low for his liking. To lose a fight or war was one thing. To lose the woman he loved was something fear wouldn’t let him gamble with—for all of his earlier professions.
He’d always viewed Arla as someone he would save. But with slamming certainty, he discovered that wasn’t to be the case. She had to save herself. He could guide her, but she needed to make the final choice.
“Anyway, plan or not, I shouldn’t have done that to you.” She shifted higher on the bed to work on his shoulders and arm. “I shouldn’t have done so many things.”
Arla was in pain. Some of it she deserved. Maybe all of it. But she didn’t know what to do with it.
“Then don’t do those things,” he said. “Be the person you’re comfortable being.”
“It’s not that easy,” she said hollowly. “I’ve trod over so many people.”
He murmured, “Then your task will be extra hard. Are you afraid of a challenge, Arla?”
Her reply was instant. “No.”
Shard smiled into the furs and she slapped his arm.
“I can see you smiling,” she snapped.
He chuckled.
Arla worked up his neck and Shard stretched out so she could access the sides.
She was quiet for several minutes and Shard could feel her contemplating all he’d said.
“I’m happy to help,” he said huskily.
Sleep was beckoning him, and he still had to make it back to his chamber. “Just so you know.”
Her hands stilled.
“I know,” she whispered. Then in a firmer voice, she said, “Roll over onto your back. I’ll do the front.”
Uh. “Not such a good idea. My trousers are on, but some things are out of my control.”
Arla laughed again, and he listened as the delighted peal rang through the room.
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she told him. “Now roll over.”
Shard did so and placed his arms behind his head.
She pursed her lips at his posture. “You sure don’t seem that worried about me seeing the thing that is ‘out of your control.’”
He closed his eyes. “You said it was a compliment.”
“I have a feeling you’re going to use that over and over again.”
“I certainly hope to.”
Shard: A Tainted Accords Novella, 4.8 Page 8