Two days after Callie had slid away from his unwanted kiss, Brian asked her to train with him. She got bad vibes from him but had no reason to say no, lest she appear as a bad sport. Little did she know, she had a reason to worry, for Brian hadn’t given up on taking her by force. His plan was to find an opening and make her trip and fall, then he would kneel down, plant one hand on either side of her, and go in for a kiss she couldn’t avoid. It would be on her mind all day and she would surely crave another … or so the theory went.
But Callie kept up a good defense, staying mindful of her footing and never lowering her guard on any part of her body. As the minutes passed by, she noticed a pattern in his technique, for he tended to aim high to make her look upward, then quickly close in. It was obvious he was going for some desired result, and once he swept his right leg and failed to trip her, she stepped back and wagged a finger. “So that’s what you’re trying to do,” she said. “Why don’t you take it easy and don’t pull anything funny?”
Brian shrugged his shoulders with an innocent smile, but inside he was seething. He cut the training short and made it appear as if nothing was bothering him … but that night as he drifted to sleep, he schemed to get back at her.
He talked to her a few times over the next three days, not bothering with making advances. Then he let slip to his friends around a campfire that Callie had confessed to being a whore in the Consarian war camp to gain special favors from commanders, and the only reason she was with the Lonsarans was because her old lovers had had their fill of her and tossed her out like a browned apple core. Brian claimed that he was asked to take an oath of silence, and although he did, he couldn’t hold back the truth any longer.
The rumor slowly spread the next day among the small group, and although most didn’t believe it, many were amused. This number did not include Sean, who cautiously informed Callie of what he heard. He expected her to blow up, but she merely nodded and said she had heard the rumor already and suspected who the source was.
When the weather was clear and the convoy stopped to rest the horses, Callie decided to make her move. She approached Brian, who was with his closest friends, and asked the men if there was anything new. The men were pleasant enough, though they were unsure if they should welcome her company. The rumor about her probably wasn’t true, but her reputation had still taken a hit, especially since she had done nothing about it so far. On the other hand, if she chose this moment to pick which one of her suitors to go with, that would only be good news.
Callie waited until she caught Brian’s eye, and as he put on a grin that he hoped looked suave, she pulled out a leather glove and smacked him across the face with it. She gave him a moment to let the blow sink in, then venomously said, “I challenge you to a duel, for spreading filthy lies about me. Winner draws first blood.”
Brian was too shocked for words, but his friends were quick to take action. They made arrangements that suited the two opponents, then separated them to get them ready. One man announced to the convoy that a duel was about to begin, so some space away from the horses should be made clear.
Count Guyver made to talk to each opponent so he could fully understand the grievance. Once finished, he arranged for a small party to act as mediators, who were to closely watch the fight and give medical assistance if needed. If the fighting went on even after first blood was drawn, the mediators were to separate the two and declare a winner. Sean had hoped the count would forbid the duel, but the count had seen fit not to interfere. Warrior’s pride was on the line, and no amount of talking would settle this matter.
Thirty minutes after the challenge had been issued, the combatants met in a grassy area where the cool breeze from a nearby lake provided relief from the strong sunlight. Both wore leather armor brushed free of dirt and grime, plus helmets and vambraces. A mediator announced that Callie was the challenger who was fighting for her honor, and that the loser was to apologize and made amends. Then, after quickly ascertaining that both opponents understood the rules, the mediator called for the fight to begin.
Callie and Brian circled each other at first, each hesitant to make the first move as the crowd cheered and egged the fighters on.
“You don’t even know it was me,” Brian said. “You have no proof.”
“I can read you better than you think,” Callie replied. “And I’m not new to the types of games people play.”
Brian shook his head in dismay and closed in to launch the first strike, and thus the clashing of steel competed with the roar of the modest crowd and the whistling wind. The fight was over a vendetta, yet it appeared similar to a training session as the opponents merely tested their reflexes and looked for openings in each other’s defense.
Callie loathed the sight of Brian’s half-concealed face, for the man had called her a whore behind her back. She had been several unflattering things in her life, but a whore was never one of them. Brian was just one of those men who used the term loosely, and since Callie was new to the group and was from an enemy nation, he thought he could get away with sticking that label on her with no questions asked. She had every right to be furious at him, but she took her recent lessons to heart and put her anger aside within herself. Using anger as a driving force made her unfocused, so she needed to concentrate on nothing but timing and precision. Only after she won the fight could she allow herself to feel again, to revel in satisfaction.
Brian also seemed capable of withholding his emotions in battle, which might have been easy for him since he had less of a stake in this duel. But as time wore on and his arms got tired, he grew frustrated and desperate. He attempted to quickly close in and step away to see if she would back off, and he was encouraged when she did what he wanted. After doing this three times, he took a risk by freeing one hand to hold his helmet in place as he hunkered down and delivered a roundhouse kick to Callie’s left ankle. She expected this, so she swung her blade down like a pendulum before she fell and lost her grip upon impact.
The cheering died down as Brian stood over her and pointed his blade at her heart. “Yield, and I’ll find some way you can make it up to me,” he said with a vulgar grin.
Callie raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to have a better look at his leg. “Is that red paint I see … or something else?”
The grin vanished, though he tried to appear as if nothing was wrong. But as blood stained his trousers from the cut on his shin, there was no more hiding it. People began to point and mention it, and the announcer declared “Lady Calista” as the winner of the match. Brian stepped away with an unsightly frown then threw his sword to the ground and stormed away, even as people demanded that he apologize.
Sean disinfected the cut with a wave of his hand then assisted the convoy’s makeshift medic with stitching it up. By the time everyone got moving, most of them had congratulated Callie on a job well done, including the count who said he was sorry one of his men was overbearing.
As the group moved further down the overgrown road heading to distant mountains, Callie stole glances at Brian, her brow knitted with regret. She wasn’t sorry for issuing the challenge, but she hated how she had needed to in the first place. If only Brian had respected her and kept his mouth shut, there wouldn’t be any bad blood between them. But now he avoided her gaze as he walked with a slight limp, and who knew what further scheming was going on behind that sour expression?
Sir Barnes stepped beside her with his horse in tow, looking resplendent in his clean black tunic and freshly shaven face. His long dark hair was worn loosely today, with a few locks teasingly curled over his shoulders. “Congratulations, Lady Calista. You’ve won back your honor and won me eighteen silvers. Well done.”
Callie opened her mouth to speak then clapped it shut when words refused to come out. Her mind was drawing a blank, she forgot to breathe for a moment, and she didn’t understand why. Sir Barnes was part of the gentry, whom Callie had a very low opinion of. From
her observations, the upper class was full of shallow and conceited people; they thought of nothing but their own pockets and amusement, and they made a practice of having their lies sound sweet and tempting. Why would this knight be any different?
But Sir Barnes had the most striking blue eyes topped with thick lashes, and his chin looked like it was made for grabbing. And his horse … his beautiful white stallion that no one rode but him …
“Oh, um … yes, thank you,” she managed to choke out. “So, you made money off me … can’t say that was my intent …”
“Of course not,” Sir Barnes said with a nervous chuckle. “But people can’t help but make wagers on duels.”
Callie mentally groaned at herself. “Oh, sorry, that came out wrong. What I mean is, I didn’t intend on having you risk your money, but I’m glad I didn’t let you down.”
“You let very few down, my lady. I’ll have you know no one really believed the rumors, and I told the rumormongers to cease their flapping lips lest they fly away like craven pigeons. Looking back, I know I could have done more, and I apologize for not doing so. I could have spared you the trouble.”
“Oh, it’s, uh … it’s no trouble at all, I was glad to do it, it put my training to good use, and I’d do it all over again if I had to, you didn’t really—” She realized she was stammering with an awkward smile, and she forced her nerves to remain steady. “I mean, at least you did something,” she finished in a small voice, her hands held in front of her.
“Has he apologized to you yet?” Sir Barnes asked.
“No … and you’re not going to say anything to him,” Callie replied, a little shocked at herself for boldly giving him an order.
“As you wish. If I were you, I would give him one day to do it, then take the matter to Count Guyver if he does nothing. Fare you well, my lady.”
“Thank you … and please, call me Callie.”
Sir Barnes nodded with a warm smile then mounted his horse and cantered away to the front of the convoy. The twin sisters, Olivia and Avery, then approached her and practically demanded to know everything Sir Barnes said to her.
“Dammit, you should have told us you were dueling to snag his attention,” Avery said with mock outrage.
“That is not why I did it,” Callie said. “Didn’t you hear the rumors?”
“Yeah, but if you also wanted Sir Barnes to look at you, then congratulations!”
“Oh, please, why would I want that?”
“Because, you know … that horse’s backside has been hogging him long enough.”
Callie made to say something, but then groaned and splayed a hand over her face, causing the sisters to laugh. It was at this moment when Sean came up, appearing hesitant. “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
“Uh, no … what is it?” Callie bit her lip at her own rudeness.
“I wanted to say congratulations on winning the fight. I’m sure that lout deserved to be beaten.”
“Thank you, Sean,” she replied with an apologetic smile. “I think I got lucky at the end, didn’t I?”
“You saw him coming, so it was mostly you, not luck.”
“Was the cut very deep?” Olivia asked.
“It was long but not deep. The stitches should keep it from getting worse.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
Sean frowned in disapproval. “You know, Callie, duels are usually planned days in advance.”
“I know, but I just wanted it over with quickly, and he wanted the same. Better to have it done now than to have it hover over our heads like a pall.”
“I see, but I must ask: Was a duel truly necessary? You could have demanded an apology instead.”
Olivia scoffed. “He would have denied starting the rumors, so what would be the point? It would be a waste of breath.”
“The point is in trying. Even if she knew what he’d say, she should have given him the chance to admit what he did, then the challenge would have been appropriate.”
“Oh, get off it,” Avery said with an eye roll. “She couldn’t afford to appear weak in front of others, and Brian is a bully who doesn’t respect people who nag him. Callie did the right thing in taking him to task right away.”
Sean furrowed his brow. “It’s not about ‘weakness’; it’s about doing the right thing. I wouldn’t want to look like a bully myself, not allowing someone to explain himself.”
“Bless your heart, Sean,” Avery said mockingly, “but you’re not a warrior, so you don’t know the warrior’s way. If someone spreads malicious lies—”
“Must every dispute be like war to you?” Sean interjected.
“Guys, that’s enough!” Callie said, putting a hand on Sean and Avery’s shoulders. “What’s done is done, so let’s not make things worse.”
“He would have made things worse if it were up to him,” Avery retorted.
“Avery, you’re not helping. Sean, I’ll think about what you said.”
He shrugged. “It’s your life, Callie. Do what you think you must.” He suddenly turned at the sound of Jonas’ voice, who appeared to be pestering a soldier. He sighed and said, “Sorry, but duty calls.”
The twins snickered upon his departure and said he would never go through life if he always did what he perceived to be “the right thing.” Callie kept silent, thinking back to recent events. She thought Sean had a good point, given how she had no hard evidence that painted Brian as the initial rumormonger, but she was too proud to say it. At any rate, she believed that regardless of how she handled the confrontation, a duel was inevitable.
She walked with her friends in companionable silence until Brian approached. He didn’t look ready for a fight, but Callie and the twins kept their guards up. “You were right,” he muttered. “I did it. It won’t happen again.” And with that, he ambled away.
The girls looked at each other, incredulous. “That wasn’t an apology,” Avery said testily under her breath.
“No, but I’ll take it,” Callie said. “That probably took more out of him than the entire fight did.”
Ten
On the twenty-eighth of September, a Friday, the convoy finally arrived at Darin Province, and to a group of travelers weary of war and starvation, it was nothing less than a treasure.
There was farmland as far as the eye could see, nearly all of it containing trace amounts of food even in the beginning of autumn. With the count’s blessing, they picked celery, turnips, cucumbers, and rye, and no matter how old or new it was, each item was a delicacy to stomachs that went on too long with nothing.
And, as Master Cypher had claimed, there were hops: prickly green seed clusters used as a preservative in malt liquors that also added bitterness. They grew on bines that coiled up around posts and fencing, and although most had already been harvested, a few buds could still be discovered. They were conveniently placed next to a wheat-and-barley field which provided the prime ingredients for the beer that was brewed in the nearby mountains.
Sean couldn’t help but pick off a young bud and suck on it after making sure it was clean, only to spit it out with a grimace. It had that distinctive “plant” taste that reminded him of his days as a child when he would tentatively put the stalk of a dandelion in his mouth.
After a few hours of traveling across the fields and exciting a handful of commoners, they came to the manor gates in the middle of a sturdy brick wall. Sean could sense a powerful ward cemented in place by a number of frosted white crystals atop the wall. The count stepped out of his carriage and into the ward, which recognized him as the lord of the manor. He then ordered the guards to open the gates and formally invited the convoy inside, thus keeping the ward from attacking the newcomers.
The mansion was an impressive structure of bricks and marble columns, with a sizable east wing containing the servant quarters. The density of the ward was the strongest here, though no
one but Sean seemed to notice. He had to admit, being expected to control and maintain such a ward was a little daunting, but he had faith that he would get used to it soon enough.
After greeting the mansion’s majordomo and the steward whom he had left in charge, Count Guyver wasted little time in issuing orders. He had the staff assign living quarters to the travelers (most of whom would be staying out of the mansion) and announced that trials would be taking place over the next two days to decide who would be the count’s new bodyguard—his new “bronze sentinel.”
“I want servants to make out parchments and post them throughout St. Clive before nightfall,” the count said. “And have the town criers make the announcement. I want a new sentinel before I leave for Asturia. There should be no more than forty contestants—and of course, everyone who traveled with me is guaranteed a placement.”
There was a lukewarm response from the soldiers, who were all too weary to even think about a competition, yet they wanted to show the count their appreciation. Sean thought the count had forgotten him amid all the buzz, but then the count came up and offered a hand and a smile. “Welcome to your new home, Sean. I’ll have someone bring you to Master Harris, since I don’t see him yet. But first, would you rather Jonas have his own room or will you share one?”
As tempting as it was to say “separate,” Sean thought it best to keep a close eye on Jonas instead of leaving him to the servants. “We’ll share a room. Thank you, my lord, but before we go … there’s someone I’d like to speak to.”
The count nodded and allowed him to seek out Callie, who was milling around her circle of friends. The smile he gave her wasn’t his first that day, but it was the one he felt the most. “Callie … we did it. We’re finally here.”
“We sure did,” she said warmly, and they embraced like old friends who hadn’t seen each other for a spell, the light breeze ruffling their hair against reddened cheeks.
The Hunt for the Three Roses Page 13
