by Eva Brandt
“I know, but you just—”
The flap of the tent parted, and another man stumbled inside, cutting Thrand off mid-sentence. He blinked owlishly at us, as if he was surprised to find someone else here. “Err… I’m sorry for interrupting,” he said. “I was told that I’m supposed to get a weapon here if I don’t have one.”
“Oh, yes,” Thrand replied, automatically falling onto his formal manners as soon as the stranger addressed him. “By all means, have your pick. That’s why we’re here as well.”
“Thank you,” the stranger answered. He scanned the tent with keen eyes and zeroed in on the table that held an assortment of axes and hammers. As soon as he saw them, he smiled, his whole face lighting up in obvious relief.
Not much of a sword user then. Judging by his girth and the size of his arm muscles, he was a man who did physical labor. Woodcutter, my mind provided. A handsome woodcutter, my libido pointed out.
I would have felt embarrassed at the thought, but Thrand winked at me, as if he knew what I was thinking—which he probably did, damn him. He didn’t mind me finding other people attractive, although I couldn’t say the same. He always said that there was no shame in looking as long as that was the only thing I did. I, on the other hand, liked to hoard his attention jealously. Perhaps it was because I knew he could do so much better than me, and that our relationship had pushed him into a life that was inappropriate for a prince. If I had been a good man, I would’ve talked him out of it. But I wasn’t a good man, and now here we were, so far from our homeland.
Shaking myself, I sheathed the sword I had picked into a scabbard. “Have a good day,” I told the woodcutter, “and good luck in the tournament.”
The handsome stranger looked up from his scrutiny of the axes and smiled. His eyes were so very blue, almost as beautiful as Thrand’s. “And to you, even if we are rivals at this.”
We weren’t, not really, but it wouldn’t be a good idea to admit that to a stranger. The tournament worked on the supposition that everyone was here to marry the princess. There were plenty of people for whom that wasn’t true—like the man we’d spoken with at the inn—but pointing that out would mean spurning the princess, which would be most unwise.
With one last nod toward the woodcutter, I headed out of the tent and toward the area where the rest of the competitors were already waiting. The organizers had set up a number of larger tents to provide accommodation for the men who had not been able to find somewhere to sleep in the city. Everyone had gathered in front of our temporary lodgings.
It was fairly early, but excitement was at its highest, with most of the participants expressing their enthusiasm for meeting the famous princess Dahud. We would not be granted entrance to the actual tournament arena until the contest began, but we could watch and wait for the unavoidable moment when the royals arrived. As expected, the conversation turned into empty, but informative boasts.
“I bet I’ll impress the princess within my very first battle. I’ll strike down my opponent in one blow and she’ll fall in love with me at first sight.”
“Not if the battle is with me, you won’t. My skill with the blade outweighs that of any other here.”
“Please. I’ve fought wars when you were crawling at your mother’s feet. You don’t have a chance.”
“He has a far better chance than all of these outsiders. I can’t imagine why they were allowed to sign up. They aren’t worthy to be in Princess Dahud’s presence.”
Thrand and I shared a look at the latter comment. Clearly, not everyone was happy with Princess Dahud’s desire for inclusiveness. Of common accord, we decided not to address it, although a few other men took offense.
“Is that a fact? And I suppose you’re the only one who is worthy of the princess?”
“Certainly a better option than you.”
I discreetly took in the identity of the people involved in the escalating argument. In the past, I’d learned that the louder a person boasted about their skill, the more likely it was for him to be a mediocre fighter. Granted, it wasn’t necessarily a rule. There were plenty of excellent swordsmen who spent as much time pointing out their successes as they did accomplishing said feats. But more often than not, people who had at least some degree of experience knew enough to not give away potential advantages to their opponents. These men were nowhere near as careful as they should have been.
Beyond observing the behavior of the men in question, Thrand and I did not get involved in the conversations in any way. When the woodcutter joined us, ten minutes or so later, he took the same approach. Smart, as well as good-looking.
Even so, by the time the royals finally made their appearance, tensions had escalated further. No one had come to blows, but there was no doubt in my mind that some of the battles would end up a little more violent than expected.
I might have found that a little amusing, but I got distracted by my first glimpse of the princess. The moment she appeared in my line of sight, my head started spinning and I began having trouble breathing. We were too far from her to see her properly, and from the distance, she was a white, veiled silhouette. But something about her drew me like a moth to a flame. She almost seemed to glow, her radiance brighter and sharper than any goddess could ever hope to display. The members of her family were eye-catching in their own right, having chosen a garb far more ornate and flashy than Dahud’s and worn their dazzling, beautiful crowns. And yet, despite that, despite all the gemstones Dahud’s parents had adorned themselves with, she stood out far more, as if the Kerys royals had stolen a star from the sky and claimed it for themselves.
I could only compare the moment to the first time I’d met Thrand. Before that, my life had been colorless and gray. I’d often wondered why I bothered to wake up in the morning. I’d been only ten and ready to die.
And then, I’d stumbled upon him, and my whole world had shifted, as if for the first time, I’d understood that there was truth and purpose in my existence. I had never expected to experience something so powerful again, especially now, when I was in a relationship with Thrand.
I was barely aware of the words King Gradlon said to welcome us to the competition. Truly, I wasn’t aware of much of anything, except for Dahud and Thrand’s presence by my side. I knew the exact moment when Thrand saw Dahud too, because his breath caught and he reached for my shoulder to steady himself.
Under different circumstances, I might have felt jealous at his strong reaction. I didn’t. I understood him perfectly. In this, like in so many other things, we were a match.
In the background, I could distantly hear my rivals responding to the king’s words with enthusiastic cheers. Very few of them seemed to pay attention to the woman whose hand they were competing for.
A sense of righteous anger rose inside me at their behavior. This whole tournament was a joke. The prize was Princess Dahud’s hand? She wasn’t an object. She shouldn’t have been anyone’s prize. She was… She was priceless.
“This competition isn’t right,” a familiar voice whispered behind me, in a perfect echo of my thoughts. “A woman like that should choose her husband in a different way. She should have someone who loves her and values her, not a person who is only after her wealth and position.”
I turned around and was unsurprised to find the woodcutter staring past us, at Dahud, like he was hypnotized. “Yes,” Thrand replied, just as lowly. “I agree. But if what we’ve heard is to be believed, this is her choice too, and we have to respect that.”
The stranger blinked, Thrand’s words apparently snapping him out of his Dahud-induced trance. “You’re right. I suppose that comment was a little presumptuous. If this is what she wants, we can’t question it.”
No, we couldn’t, but we could question our purpose for being here. Thrand and I had never intended to make a serious bid for the princess’s hand, but now… Now after I’d seen her, how could I not want her?
This had been a horrible mistake. We should have never come here. No matter how I looked at the si
tuation, there was no way out. The competition could only have one winner and Princess Dahud could only have one husband. How could Thrand and I have our future together if…?
My thought process came to a grinding halt when I realized something I should have never missed at all. Of course. This had never been about my future with Thrand, not really.
If Thrand won the competition, he would have a perfect relationship, a lover he wouldn’t have to hide, a true home, and eventually even children. He’d have his position back, and he would no longer be forced into poverty and hardship because he had chosen me. I could stay by their side as their guard, a loyal companion and nothing more. No one ever needed to know Thrand and I had been anything more than friends.
From the moment he and I had met, I’d been so selfish and greedy. I’d embraced what he had offered, even if I’d known it was wrong to allow him to debase himself by taking me in his body. So many times, I’d told myself I would stop, that I would convince him to take me instead. Somehow, though, my resolve faltered when I was with him. We didn’t always do such forbidden things, but the times when I did indulge in claiming his body as my own were forever branded in my memory as my sin and my addiction. I should have never made him argr, should’ve never allowed him to unman himself for me. I should’ve known better. Maybe this was the sign I was waiting for, the sign that I finally needed to stop.
Watching the two of them build something together without me would hurt, but it would be worth it, for the sake of Thrand’s happiness. A princess for a prince. What could possibly make more sense?
Once Thrand won, he could make this work as a political arrangement. Thrand’s father, Sæmingr, had never been among those who had fought against King Gradlon, but an alliance between the two houses wouldn’t hurt and might even bring both kingdoms more power.
But could Princess Dahud really make Thrand happy? Thrand had abandoned his title for love, and if Dahud couldn’t give him that, it would be useless, and we would end up in an even worse predicament than before.
Enchanting as she might be, I didn’t know her. I’d only caught a brief glimpse of her, from a few hundred feet away. My gut feelings might come in handy from time to time, but I couldn’t base such an important decision on something so flimsy.
I’d already taken so many choices away from Thrand. I couldn’t do the same now unless I was absolutely certain I was in the right.
The princess turned her head toward me. She couldn’t have possibly seen me from this distance, but for a few moments, it seemed like she did. Just like that, I knew I needed to investigate things a little further.
Before I made sure Princess Dahud married the man I loved, I would look into her and find out what kind of person she truly was. And if my first guess about her had been right, I would do my utmost to win Thrand the hand of the woman he deserved.
* * *
Dahud
The tournament did not start the way I’d expected. I’d been prepared for the explosion of enthusiasm coming from the competitors, but things took an unexpected turn shortly after, during my father’s speech.
As I listened to my father enthuse about my numerous qualities, a strange, intrusive sensation started to niggle at the back of my mind. I didn’t know why, but I found myself turning toward a particular group of competitors.
Three men caught my attention, originally because they seemed a lot less cheerful than everybody else. They weren’t even looking at my father. Instead, they were staring at me with an intensity that made something I could not identify stir inside me.
They didn’t realize that I could see them and understand their conversation perfectly. The crowd was too noisy for me to hear them, but I could read their lips, and their exchange intrigued me.
The three men were as different as the weapons they had chosen. A well-built, dark-haired ax-wielder stood in front of two swordsmen, one blond and one a redhead.
“Regardless of our opinion,” the blond said, “the competition is intended to have Princess Dahud marry the man who she believes is right for her. We might not like the general idea behind it, but it will probably work out.”
“I certainly hope so,” the ax-wielder replied, “although I’m still not convinced it is the best way.”
“There’s no real universal solution for anything,” the redhead offered, “and no universal best way. Whether it is good or bad, it’s the path we’re on now, and we have to follow it to the end.”
The exchange was somewhat odd since I could not see why they suddenly had a problem with a competition they had signed up for. What struck me as stranger still was the fact that even as they spoke, they were staring straight at me.
They couldn’t possibly see my face, not from this distance, and not through the veil. Or could they? If I was capable of doing things the rest of my people could not, what was to say others didn’t have the same skills?
Was that the reason for this strange sensation I had when I looked at them? Were they a threat? If so, I needed to investigate, at once. The path they were on might not necessarily be something compatible with my interests, and I could not allow that.
It was just as well that my father soon declared the competition officially open, and the participants began to trickle in. There were so many of them that the tournament would last two whole weeks. My mother had suggested that we not bother coming for the preliminary battles until the skilled warriors weeded out the rabble. While I had agreed with her logic, I’d wanted to be there from day one. After all, I’d already made arrangements with my father to make a note of other individuals who showed promise. Had I gone with my mother’s suggestion, I might have missed people with potential.
I didn’t regret that decision, but it simply didn’t pay off, not for hours. Oh, certain warriors were better than others, some flashier, more experienced or more violent. None of them drew my attention.
And then, the blond man walked into the arena, at which point I finally learned his name and origins. He was a Frank and he went by the name of Theuderic. It was a good name, although I wasn’t sure it suited him. Muscular, but not excessively so, he held his sword in a grip that was well-practiced and showed no sign of being intimidated by the large crowd. His calm expression could have rivaled mine. How would he fare against my father’s seasoned fighters?
It must’ve been my lucky day—or Theuderic’s unlucky one—because I was about to find out. His opponent turned out to be Gunther Redbeard. Gunther had fought with my father in the war in the Northern Lands which had led to him meeting my mother. I considered him too old for me, although not because of his age. Fertility wouldn’t be an issue if we were wed, and he certainly suited my image of a strong capable warrior. But I suspected he was a little too loyal to my father for me to rely on him. He would also be more inclined to a traditional approach to leadership.
I could arrange for his assassination if he became a pest, but I would’ve preferred a husband who did not require such bothersome things from the very beginning.
He also appeared to be an idiot, since the first thing he did was to question my approach to the competition. “Honored Princess Dahud, as your most humble servant, I will make this outsider pay the price for his presumptuous attempt to court you.”
“By all means, Gunther, do so if you can,” I replied coldly. “However, I must remind you that if your current rival and other people like him are present, it is because I deemed it appropriate. Should you have a problem with this, I invite you to set your sword aside.”
Silence fell over the stands. All color drained out of Gunther’s face as he started to splutter. “You have my most sincere apologies, Your Highness. I did not mean to imply such a thing.”
Liar. Of course he thought my father indulged me too much. Everyone did. They believed that all they had to do was marry me, and I’d miraculously turn into their tool and perfect wife.
That wouldn’t have happened even if I had been able to feel.
“Then perhaps we should mov
e along with the battle, lest we all fall asleep here while we dwell on idle conversation.”
“Of course, Your Highness. I will make sure to defeat this outsider as quickly as possible.”
Theuderic pursed his lips, looking as unimpressed as I was. “You heard the princess, man. Less prattle and more fighting.”
He had a pleasant voice, although I was a little surprised at the fact that he could even understand us and speak Breton so well. I’d had no idea Frankish tribes emphasized learning languages different from their own beyond what was strictly necessary. I’d have to remember to look into it at a later date. For the moment, I was too enthralled by the way he threw himself into battle to dwell too much on the detail.
When Gunther charged at him, sword drawn, Theuderic seemed to morph in front of my very eyes. The facade of pure calm faded into a whirlwind of aggression and beautiful violence that made my heart race. Was this how lust felt like? I’d never experienced it before, but I didn’t find it unpleasant.
I’d seen plenty of warriors in this tournament, some more vicious than others, but there was a quiet, almost elegant brutality in each of Theuderic’s motions. Gunther was larger than him, but that proved to be no obstacle. If anything, it became obvious within moments that Theuderic had the upper hand. Compared to him, Gunther seemed to be moving through molasses, as if he was trying to swim against a powerful current. I suspected it was only his experience as a warrior that kept him from being brought to his knees within minutes of the beginning of their battle. But no matter how hard he tried to sneak past Theuderic’s guard, he always failed to take his younger opponent by surprise. He ended up having to defend himself from repeated and increasingly vicious counter-attacks, and he wasn’t always successful.
By the time he finally managed to find an apparent opening, Gunther had taken three pretty serious slash wounds, all of which were bleeding sluggishly. He did not let that hinder him and lunged forward in a final, desperate attempt to disembowel Theuderic. For a few seconds, it seemed like it would work, and something unpleasant and indefinable twisted in my stomach. And then, Theuderic easily side-stepped Gunther’s blow and used the larger warrior’s momentum against him. I blinked, and the next thing I knew, Gunther was on the ground, with his sword a few feet away from him.
