“Coward,” Avalanche said.
Shard didn’t resist. Avalanche had been in the strength finals for a reason. “I need to get out of here.”
“You need to see it through or I’ll have to listen to you whine for years to come. And I already have to listen to everyone else.”
Shard quirked a brow. “You shouldn’t keep all that pent up.”
“I also was thrown to the ground trying to get you into a good spot,” Avalanche continued.
“So? I was thrown to the ground.”
The giant man sighed. “So much longer to fall down. So much heavier to land. So much harder to get up.”
Shard snorted. “I suppose.”
“I know. So shut up and listen.”
Tall people falling hard aside, Avalanche was right. He didn’t need to stay for Arla, he had to stay for himself.
Sin swept his hands wide. “People of the tri-worlds. Were you entertained?”
The deafening uproar left no one unconvinced, and Shard wished he could have been a mere spectator watching someone else’s misery from the stands.
“Were you entertained?” Sin yelled.
The entire Dome shook in response.
He held up a scroll. “I have the winners of the categories in my hand. And . . . the ultimate warrior.”
Shard’s stomach twisted.
“I shan’t torture you longer,” the master of ceremonies told them, beaming brightly. “Starting with Strength, we have the one and only King Jovan.”
Screams of approval ripped through the ranks.
King Jovan rolled his eyes as Sin gestured him to the stage and arranged him to the left.
“Accuracy,” Sin said. “Tatum Landon.”
The Solati audience members surged to their feet, their shouts—surprisingly—just as loud as the Bruma.
Landon stood next to Jovan.
“Spear.” Sin lowered his voice, peering around the crowd. They quietened, and he shouted, “Rhone!”
The Ire leaped up and down, hugging each other.
“Agility,” Sin shouted before it had completely died down. “Zelda.”
The Ire erupted anew, stamping their feet. The entire stadium clapped for them, Shard included. He was unsure if most Bruma were aware of the struggle the exiled Ire folk had endured over generations, but this victory would mean the world to them. Acceptance, victory, prestige. Everything they’d had stripped from them because they were a mixture of Solati and Bruma.
That they’d come at all showed the type of people they were. He was glad for them.
“Dagger,” Sin shouted after several minutes where nothing could be heard but the Ire’s jubilant celebrations. “A clear victor. Shard.”
Had victory ever felt so bittersweet?
He held a hand up and waved at the crowd before standing beside Zelda on stage.
“Congratulations,” he told her, holding out his hand.
She tilted her chin. “Thank you. And the same to you.”
Shard nodded.
The noise died down and Sin held the scroll aloft. “The winner of the bow event is none other than Queen Lina.”
Each of the winners came from one world, but Lina belonged to all three. The noise was tumultuous and when Sin followed on with, “Sword, Queen Lina,” Shard eyed the foundations of the Dome, wondering if the stonework might be shaken apart by their love for the ruler of Glacium.
Really, Jovan agreeing to a display fight had been an error on his part. She’d obviously decided to flatten him.
Shard bowed to her when she approached to stand by his side, but she pulled him into a tight hug, squeezing the air from him. She moved down the line, hugging everyone else before leaping on her husband and delivering a long kiss to his lips.
She returned to take Kendra from Lorna and then resumed her position next to Shard.
Sin winked at Lorna and then turned back to the crowd.
“Seven category winners,” he said slowly. “But only one ultimate warrior. The top six warriors will be named, each a victory to be worn with pride, knowing that in three worlds, these fighters are the absolute all-round fighters. We’ve seen blood. We’ve seen sweat. We’ve seen pain. And now one fighter will be named victor.”
No one in the crowd made a peep.
Shard wasn’t alone in leaning forward.
“In seventh place, Davesi of the Ire. In sixth place, Afarad of Osolis.” He continued through their cheers. “In fifth place, Rhone of the Ire—”
Fuck, he’d made the top four?
“—in third equal, Shard of Glacium and Tatum Landon. In second place, Queen Lina. And in first place, the tri-world’s ultimate warrior, King Jovan.”
The crowd rose in a wave.
Third equal. Was that even a thing? Not that it mattered.
. . . And not that it would have mattered if he’d actually won.
The king was grinning at Lina, who rolled her eyes and then blew him a kiss.
Avalanche clapped Shard on the back, and—yes—shock filled him for even managing to rival the Tatum, but the larger and greatly overwhelmed part of him just couldn’t give a fuck. He should go. Just congratulate the others and go. And yet his eyes were lifting to the semi-circle platform where she’d be.
Arla usually sat at the far back, closest to where the royals sat. She wasn’t there. But she was being dragged down the stairs by her father.
Shard’s brows slammed together.
“Give me a boost?” he asked Avalanche.
His friend grunted and followed his long strides past the stage to just beneath the platform.
Shard placed his foot in Avalanche’s cupped grip and then bent and straightened his leg in time with his giant’s boost.
He soared upward, gripping the balustrade of the platform. Three days of fighting and yet he didn’t feel an ache or protest with the molten anger coursing through his body. Shard hoisted over the barrier and landed in front of Drummond, who had a hand wrapped in an uncompromising grip around Arla’s wrist.
She was trying to maintain a dignified appearance, he could tell. But there was only so much a person could do to maintain face when their father was dragging them down the stairs in front of their peers like a child.
Drummond spat out, “Get out of my way, whorehound.”
Shard had never wanted to lose all control of his temper more, and yet in this situation, he needed to have it more than ever. The court of Osolis, the assembly of Glacium, and the representatives of the Ire were all listening.
“You weren’t this brave last time I saw you, Drummond,” Shard said calmly—or as close as he could get. “And I’ve told you: I’m an advisor. Disrespect me again and I’ll give you more than a bruised face.”
The assembly covered their light laughter. Their guests were exchanging glances, however.
“Come, Arla,” Drummond said, jerking her forward. “We’re leaving.”
“No, Father. You promised,” she said in rushed undertones.
Shard stared at where Drummond gripped his daughter, certain her porcelain skin would be a mess of bruises later.
“Let her go, Drummond,” Shard told him.
“She’s my daughter,” he shot back, dragging her again.
Arla dug in her heels.
“Exactly,” Shard said, stepping closer. “She’s your daughter. Look at yourself, man. Look at how you’re treating her in front of not just our people, but three peoples.”
Some emotion interrupted the blanket of rage twisting Drummond’s face.
Shard pressed. “Not only are you disrespecting her, you are disrespecting the king and queen with this display. You know this is something they particularly wished to avoid. You are sitting with the representatives for two foreign worlds. What do you think they’ll speak about when they go back to their homes and people?”
The Bruma didn’t glance at his daughter, but past him. He sighed.
“Let her go, Drummond,” he repeated. “This isn’t the way.”
<
br /> He growled and released his grip on her.
Arla rubbed her wrist, wincing, and Shard itched to inspect the limb. But their words of this morning were still a barrier between them.
“I will go with you, Father,” she said, straightening, and dropping her arm. “But I want Shard to come.”
Drummond’s face twisted again. “No—”
The queen swung over the balustrade. Shard leaned back and peered down at Avalanche, who waved.
“What’s going on here?” she asked coolly, fixing Drummond with a look.
He paled.
Not entirely stupid then.
“My daughter is being emotional,” Drummond said.
Shard glanced at Arla, seeing the icy rage descend into place.
Lina folded her arms. “It is easy to call a female emotional. It is easy to call a man weak.”
A wrinkle appeared between the Bruma’s brows. He was likely contemplating whether the queen had just called him weak.
That was a yes.
Shard glanced up and saw Arla was watching him. She’d told him to leave and he was determined not to make the first move. He’d come up here to make sure she was okay, but he refused to smooth things over for her.
Arla blinked and her face set into determined lines.
She stepped forward, curtseying. “I made a deal with my father, Queen Lina. I am well past the age of marriage. I was to be offered to the winner of the tournament as a wife.”
Lina’s face was smooth, but the disgust was plain in her voice. “He was giving you away to just anyone?”
Drummond paled further, but Arla shook her head.
“No,” she said. “I came up with the idea. He agreed, but I came up with it.”
Jovan was striding across the assembly viewing platform toward them. He’d walked up the stairs and entered through the side door. Shard guessed Avalanche might’ve had trouble boosting the king over the balcony.
“You . . . ,” the queen said slowly. “Why?”
Arla’s face flushed.
“What’s going on?” Jovan said, scowling darkly.
Drummond turned green.
The queen glanced at Shard and then turned to her husband. “Arla was offering her hand in marriage to the winner.”
The king blanched. “I’m married.”
“The first eligible winner,” Arla stressed, narrowing her eyes slightly.
Shard lifted his head. “That’s not what you told me. You said I had to win.”
“Well, I would’ve thought that was obvious. I’m not going to marry a married person. But that was my backup plan. I had expected the world leaders to back out of the running for ultimate warrior for diplomatic reasons—except none of them did.”
“Diplomatic,” Jovan said slowly, as though rolling the word around in his mouth to taste it for the first time.
The queen fought against her smile and won. Just. “The tri-world leaders rule through honesty and respect, not diplomacy. Diplomacy is nothing but smoke; it’s meaningless in a true and meaningful exchange.”
“Why weren’t you upfront with me about that?” Shard asked, brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you fill me in? Do you understand how awful the last few days have been for me?”
He held Arla’s gaze, watching as her shoulders drooped.
Jovan interrupted, “Arla was giving herself away. She wanted Shard to win. Or didn’t— That is unclear. And Drummond is causing a scene in front of a stadium full of our people and allies. Am I caught up?”
“S-sorry, King Jovan,” Drummond started.
The king held up a hand.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Lina said to Arla. “Why?”
Arla didn’t look away from Shard to answer the queen. Instead she spoke to him. “I wanted to tell you. Numerous times in the last few days. But each time I tried to. . . .”
She trailed off.
“No,” Shard said, crossing his arms. “Don’t stop talking. I need an explanation for everything. I need to understand why you’ve done this. What were you about to say?”
“. . . Each time I tried to, I realized how stupid I was being. I didn’t want you to look at me like everyone else does.”
Shard watched her, dropping his arms.
Arla worried at her lip. Drawing herself up, she answered in a trembling voice, “My father disapproved of you and I was afraid to go against him. I. . . . My entire life, my father’s goals and mine have aligned. For so long after Mother died, he was all I had. I didn’t know what to do when that changed. He wanted me to marry well, and marrying the winner of the first Interworld Games would bring prestige to his position. Not the high-born prestige he and I initially planned, but the marriage would be notable and leave a legacy. I thought such a thing would be enough for my father and we could both be happy with my choice of husband.”
Shard stared at her, only vaguely hearing the queen’s, “You were afraid to stand up to your father. . . .”
As he studied Arla, her head dropped, her blonde hair swinging forward in a silken curtain.
She’d actually said the words aloud. The others’ reaction echoed his own. Confusion and no small amount of judgment. The words did sound weak, and he could tell Arla knew that, and yet everyone’s trials were different. He had personal experience with how hard it could be to go against your father. His was a whorehound; hers was advisor to the king.
But the important part was she’d admitted her play.
Shard crossed to her side, taking her injured hand gently and inspecting it. She peeked out at him and he placed a finger under her chin, lifting it once more.
Drummond was staring at Arla, too, his face working. And Shard thought that amidst the anger and shame, he could detect some hurt too.
“I’m sorry,” Arla said to Shard. And then she turned to her father. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“It’s all sorted then,” the queen said, clapping. “Who has my daughter?”
Drummond started. “It is not sorted.”
The air cooled as Lina regarded him. “You agreed to Arla’s plan, yes? Foolish though it was.”
“I didn’t expect him to win.”
Lina tilted her head. “So if another had won, you would have no problem offering your daughter’s hand in marriage to a stranger. Right this very second?”
“The others are worthy,” he spat. “She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into. She’ll change her mind once they’re married and then I can’t help her—”
His daughter hissed, “Eighteen months isn’t a change of heart, Father.”
“You really don’t care if she loves him?” Jovan asked his advisor.
Drummond drew himself up, puffing his chest out as he turned to Arla. “I don’t want a notable marriage for you,” he told her, eyes beseeching. “I want what’s best for you. You are the well-born daughter of an advisor. A member of the assembly. Who is he but the discarded son of a whoreh—”
A fist crunched against his face, snapping the advisor’s head back. Blood spurted from his nose and the crowd gasped.
Lina shook her hand out. “Origins don’t mean a thing on Glacium. If I hear you say that word again, you will be stripped of your title and escorted to the Fifth for a lengthy stay.”
Clutching his face, Drummond choked on the blood and simply nodded.
“Drummond, I could be wasting my breath saying this, but if happiness and ambition mean the same thing to you, perhaps you need to think long and hard on the difference, just like your daughter has,” Shard said. “No wonder she was so confused on the issue when you are yet to discover the answer yourself.”
As one, the group turned to him, audience included.
Shard turned to Arla. “This isn’t the start of a relationship, it’s a business deal. I may be the first eligible winner and that may have won me your hand in your eyes, but I spent the last eighteen months trying to win you. If you can’t respect me for that, without any of these games, we can’t be together.”<
br />
She searched his face, the ice mask falling away. He didn’t mind the ice mask. She was something to behold with it in place—when it wasn’t used against him. But he preferred what he saw now: guileless powder-blue eyes, a sharp mind, a deep soul, and a full heart.
No one spoke around them and he had half a mind to glare them into at least pretending they weren’t eavesdropping.
“You love me?” she asked in a whisper.
He held her gaze. “I love you more than anything.”
Arla took a breath and nodded.
. . . Then she began taking off her clothes.
“Not how I saw it going,” someone whispered.
Shard glanced to the balustrade and saw Blizzard and Ice were peeking over the edge. For fuck’s sake.
Arla had removed her fur coat and draped it over his shoulders.
“Arla, what—”
She patted her coat pockets and her eyes widened. “I don’t have any food.”
Why would she. . . . Shard’s mouth dried as he realized what Arla was up to.
“Heads!” a voice called from the back.
Arla turned and caught a pear tossed down by Sanjay. Beaming, she offered it to Shard, who took it tenderly, taking a bite.
Then her pink mouth opened. “Oh,” she said, glancing up at him in despair. “How do I protect you?”
He couldn’t trust himself to speak immediately. “You protected me last night. Last night when you helped me recover from the fight. There are all kinds of way of protecting someone you love.”
Her chest heaved as Shard pulled her inward.
Her eyes were rounded and she licked her lips.
“Do you love me, Arla?” he asked.
“I just clothed and fed you.” A bite entered her voice.
Shard waited.
A small smile spread across her face, a hint of mischief filtering into her gaze. Somehow Shard knew that glimpse of cheekiness spelled out a lifetime of torture for him.
She placed cool hands either side of his face and the Dome full of people from the tri-worlds could have been shaking the entire place down around them and he’d have never known.
“I love you, Shard,” she told him simply.
Shard wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her against him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Shard: A Tainted Accords Novella, 4.8 Page 10