by Rachel James
He shot to his feet. “Don’t you think I know?” He did, and only too well. At least his head did, but tell that to his heart, which seemed to be playing tricks on him of late. Of course, he’d had relationships in the past—but never anything serious, and certainly naught to make him feel like he did when Teagen was around.
Sherwin placed an arm over his shoulders. “I don’t want you to get hurt, ’tis all. Settle down, find a wife, but set your sights on another.”
Ryce blew out a long breath. “You’re right, although we are rather stuck on an island made mostly of male soldiers for company.”
“There’s plenty of young ladies around here. You merely haven’t been looking. There is sure to be a number of maidens available to dance with at the Christmas festival.”
“That’s if we’re still mobile. Isn’t there to be a tournament prior to the feasting?”
Sherwin chuckled. “Right. You’d best watch your back or I might beat you and take the winning prize.”
The day of the games began early, and Teagen awoke with a flutter of nerves. Lunet came bustling into her room humming an ancient melody as she opened the shutters and emptied the chamber pot.
“My, you are chirp and cheery this morrow, Lunet.”
“And why not? Today is to be grand.”
Teagen stretched out lazily, glad to be back in her own chamber again, along with her privacy.
“Come on now, Princess, and get out of bed. We’ve a lot of work to do.”
She sat too quickly, her head spinning. “What work?”
“With your appearance. You can’t be looking shabby today of all days. How about your special purple gown?”
She rubbed her eyes and lay back on her soft pillow. Her fur covers were so warm, and she was not ready to leave her bed. “Shouldn’t we be saving that for tonight’s feast?”
“Quite right. Well, you can’t wear your old, blue woollen tunic.” Lunet perused her wooden chest with a frown on her face. “Ah, how about this one?” She held a deep claret tunic, not as fancy as the luxurious purple dress, but prettier than the bland blue.
“Do you think the colour suits my complexion?”
“Of course, Princess. Perchance you should wear your hair down today. The claret will look stunning against your ebony locks.
“I’m not sure...a little informal, don’t you think?”
“It’s a momentous occasion, is it not? Tell you what. Wear your gold headband to spruce it up a little.”
“Very well, but I can’t be upstaging the queen. It wouldn’t sit well with her.”
“Oh, tosh. Today is your day. You forget about ‘her grumpiness.’”
“Lunet!”
Her maid tightened her lips and didn’t talk any further.
Teagen took a fair time to get ready and missed breakfast again.
“Well, you can’t eat now, m’lady. What if you mess your dress?”
She stuck out her bottom lip, “You mean, no food at all?”
“If you promise to be careful, I’ll grab you something to eat, but you cannot go down until you’re summoned. Understand? Stay in your chamber.”
“Very well.”
She stood looking in the mirror while waiting for her maid to return. Lunet had been right. Wearing her hair down did look good and framed her slim figure. At least she wasn’t as skinny as she had been a few weeks ago. The concentrated bedrest and extra large portions of food available had seen to that.
Now she had curves. Well, almost. Indeed, the gold headband looked beautiful against her dark hair. Today, she resembled a princess. All she had to do was try to act like one.
“Right then, Princess. This will keep you going for a little while,” said Lunet upon her return. She handed Teagen a bread cake and a glass of water. “Now the king says they are prepared for you, so eat quickly, and we’ll get you down.”
Teagen barely had time to gobble the food and swig a mouthful of drink before Lunet was making last-minute touches to her appearance. “Ready?”
Teagen nodded, took a deep breath, and hobbled down the steps. She still had her splint on the leg, but Sherwin had assured her that she was able to walk now with the aid of a wooden stick. Lunet followed behind her, and once down the stairs gave Teagen her arm for support.
As the weather was rather sunny for a cold winter’s day, the games would be taking place outside in the old amphitheatre. A royal box had been erected for the occasion, which Teagen was thankful for, keeping the chill wind at bay.
“Good morrow, Sister.” Niall held out his hand to help Teagen into the box. He gestured for her to sit next to Cinnia, who seemed unsurprisingly cold.
Once seated, Garreth signalled for silence from the crowd. “Good men and good women, welcome to Angularem’s first official tournament!” He waited for the cheers to quieten. “We shall have games in one-on-one combat, archery, and spear throwing. Today’s winner will need to succeed at all three pursuits to win. The prize is to be decided by Princess Teagen.”
The crowds cheered once more, and Teagen gave the audience a polite nod and wave.
“Let the games begin!”
Teagen twisted her handkerchief in nervous habit. She hated being a spectator and feeling so helpless. She’d rather be down there herself and getting involved.
Garreth sat next to her. “Is this your first tournament?”
“Aye. I mean, I’ve watched plenty of Shieldok brawls in my time, but naught to compare to a civilized affair such as this.”
“There were none in Elmetia?”
“I cannot recall.”
“We did, Teagen, don’t you remember? Perchance you were too little. Father was very protective over you.”
“Was he? I wonder why.”
“He was after Mama died, but you were tiny.”
Cinnia twisted round to face them. “What did your mother look like?”
“Teagen,” said Niall. “Except for the nose. Teagen’s is a little turned up on the edge. Mama, quite to her annoyance, had a long one.”
Teagen watched her brother in amazement. She had no memory of her mother. “How did she die?”
Niall stiffened. “They found her at the bottom of a cliff.”
Teagen gasped. “Was she pushed? Did she fall?”
“Nobody knows. Although...”
“Aye?”
“I think Father had his suspicions.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The look he gave me when I bid him. I knew he was not telling me something for my own good.”
Teagen felt saddened. Of course, she had always known of her mother’s death. She was probably only two when she’d passed. Her life simply existed without a mother.
Ryce had him cornered. There was nowhere else for the soldier to go. Would he yield? Nay. This one held defiance.
His opponent tried to push him backward, but Ryce held his ground, using his shield to take the blows, one after another. Then all of a sudden it cracked in two, shattering to the floor. Ryce stood, stunned. His hesitation was long enough for the other man to whack the blunt part of the blade to the back of his head.
He tumbled slowly to the ground, the blood seeping down his temple. He coughed as he swallowed a mouthful of dirt, the dust rising into his nostrils. The crowd cheered. Whose side were they on?
Then there was the counting. “One, two, three...” If I give up now, this will all be over.
“Four, five, six...”
What about the prize?
“Seven, eight, nine...”
Slowly but surely, he rolled onto his knees and grabbed his sword, which had fallen along with him. He sensed the brut lurking behind him. Catching a glimpse of his shadow moving on the ground, he waited until the last possible moment.
Thwack!
With a single strike, the other man fell. The crowds went wild.
As Ryce stood, he steadied himself with his blade staked into the dirt. Garreth ran into the stadium and raised Ryce’s arm in victory.
“Good men and women, I give you our tournament winner, Ryce!” Garreth guided Ryce to the Royal Box to receive his reward.
Niall rose. “I have granted Princess Teagen the honour of choosing the prize for today’s victor. Princess, would you care to reveal it?”
Teagen signalled to Garreth, and the amphitheater gates were opened. Ryce could not believe his eyes as three men carried a rowboat into the arena. Was this some kind of joke? The spectators broke in laughter, and it took Garreth a fair while to subdue them to silence.
Teagen motioned to the crowd. “I hereby award the contest to Ryce the Warrior, who has won this prized river boat...or more accurately, a river ride with me for the afternoon, that is, when this blessed splint ever comes off.” The assembly laughed again and gave rapturous applause.
Well, not quite what he was expecting, but not a letdown. He smiled to himself. He’d never heard of any tournament prize being a boat trip before. Not that he’d ever attended a Wealdman’s competition. Dyrahns fought for money…there was no chivalry involved.
Thankful he wasn’t expected to ride the river this very afternoon, he headed toward the infirmary where he could use a lie-down. And perchance some ale.
“Ryce! Congratulations,” said Sherwin, clapping him on the shoulder.
Ryce winced.
“Oh, sorry, are you injured?”
Ryce nodded in pain.
“Let’s get you to the infirmary.”
Sherwin gave him a hand as they walked through to the fort infirmary quarters. There were several other soldiers already being treated for minor injuries. At least nobody died today. He couldn’t live in good conscience that a death could justify a morrow’s entertainment.
“Didn’t you fight?”
“Nay, I never intended to. Thought my skills may well be needed in other areas.”
Ryce scanned the full infirmary and laughed.
“You’ll live,” said his friend as he applied a bandage. “You’ve received some minor cuts to the chest and back. And, of course, your head has taken a knocking, but naught a good rest won’t sort out. At least it’s Christmas, and you’ll be able to put your feet up for a bit.”
“Oh, I know not about that,” said Niall as he entered. He came and sat on the chair next to Ryce’s bed. “I wanted to congratulate you not only on winning, but on what you’ve achieved since coming here. The tournament was put on to test the garrison’s abilities, and today has shown me how truly far we’ve come. Thanks to you.”
“Thank you, sire.” Ryce didn’t handle praise too well, at least to his face.
“I hope you’ll all be there at the feast tonight. We’ve quite the celebration planned.”
Chapter Thirteen
A long soak in a hot bath fragranced with lavender and rose petals was just what Teagen needed. Her healing leg dangled carefully over the edge so as not to get wet. The tournament now over, Lunet had insisted upon prepping her for the eventide celebration. Her maid arranged her hair, pinning it up with lengthy, wavy tendrils flowing down. She even applied a little colour to her lips and cheeks.
Self-conscious, Teagen pushed open the wooden doors to the hall and entered, unchaperoned. Her elongated skirts well hid the leg brace, which still limited her walk.
The celebration was already in full swing when she arrived. Joyous music from the lyre and drum filled the air, and boughs of holly and ivy draped across walls, marking the season’s festivities. An abundance of food spread the tables, and the finest gold and glass had been brought out for the top table. She went to take her place next to her brother as usual.
“Nay, Princess, not tonight,” said Garreth, rushing to her before she could sit. “This seat has been reserved for the tournament winner. You shall be sitting next to him instead.”
“Of course.” She tried not to look put out.
Niall glanced up and gave a reassuring smile.
She had barely been seated before the music paused and the room became quiet.
“Good people, please give a cheer for today’s champion...Ryce!”
The assembly rose, banging their tables and cheering as he took her former place next to the king. Ryce gave them all a hesitant wave and a polite smile. He cast her a lingering glance, then quickly averted his gaze. The music started again, and everyone carried on as before.
Ryce was soon engrossed in a conversation with Niall, and Teagen scanned the room for someone to talk to. It would have been better if she were sitting at a different table, so she could get to know the others.
Well, why shouldn’t I?
She glanced across at Niall. He wouldn’t notice. She tried to push herself up, but her leg didn’t want to cooperate, and she had an awful sense she would stumble at any moment.
Strong hands around her waist steadied her.
“Easy, Princess. What are you trying to do, gallop across the hall during the meal time?”
Teagen turned. “Sherwin!”
“Where were you off to? Perchance I may be of some assistance.”
“I’m in the process of changing tables. I’m a bit isolated here.”
Sherwin gazed along the table. “Well, how about you join mine? We’ve a spare seat, what with Ryce being ‘promoted’ and all.”
She gave him a little smile. “I would like that, thank you.”
Teagen locked her arm inside Sherwin’s as he escorted her to one of the long trestle tables with the rest of the garrison.
“Good men, we’ve an honorary guest with us this eventide.”
Teagen, like a fish out of water, sat next to Sherwin.
“So, Ryce tells me your archery is coming along well.”
“Aye, he’s hoping to take me out hunting as soon as my leg is healed. He says I need practice at a moving target.”
“True. I doubt there are many circumstances when your enemy stands still and waits for you to shoot.”
Teagen chuckled. “So how about you? Are you settled here now, or do you miss your travelling lifestyle?”
“I do not desire my old life one bit. I was never a soldier. Although I possess the ability to fight, I lack the heart to do so. At least here I can be who I want to be.”
“So you like being a physician?” Teagen pursed her lips. “I don’t think I’d have the stomach for your line of work.”
“When the time comes, somehow you find out. When need beckons, it is hard to ignore it.”
“Perchance.” She watched the open space in front of her begin to fill with people dancing. Some of the garrison from her table rose to find partners. She hadn’t realized how many women lived in Angularem. She spotted Lunet with a cheeky partner cantering around the dance floor, her face pink and eyes sparkling.
A young woman with distinctive auburn hair worked her way toward Sherwin. She had a forward approach about her, with determination in her countenance. “Aren’t you dancing?” she asked Sherwin.
Sherwin leaned backward, his brow raised. He glanced at Teagen.
“Nay, I’m fine. Do go on,” said Teagen.
“Are you sure? Don’t want you being forgotten.”
“I’ll be grand. Go on with you.”
Sherwin did not need much convincing to join the pretty redhead. Yet, despite her insistence, she did suffer slight abandonment. She would love to dance if not for her blasted leg. Teagen surveyed her table.
Alone again.
Perchance she should eat something, but her stomach held no appetite. What was the point in getting dressed up to be disregarded all eventide? She scanned the top table, which was empty too. Niall danced with Cinnia, and Ryce? Where was he now?
She noted the hall side door open. Mayhap he’d gone outside for some fresh air. Sounded like a good idea, for the room was too hot, what with the spit fires and hog roasts on the go.
Teagen stood, a little more elegantly this time, although she now regretted being overly vain and choosing not to bring her walking stick. She clenched her teeth and hobbled toward the door, trying
not to attract any attention to herself.
She breathed in the fresh night air as if her head had been held underwater. The moon was not quite full. Nevertheless, it shone brightly. She made her way into the courtyard to find a pleasant seating area.
Then she heard his voice.
She’d spent enough time with him over recent weeks to recognize that deep, rich tone anywhere. He must be somewhere near the fountain. She started walking but halted. Was somebody else with him?
“Come on, isn’t she even a little to your liking?”
“Of course not. Besides, I don’t tend to go for brown eyes.”
“Unlike mine, you mean.”
“In this light, I cannot tell.”
“Well, they’re green. Like emeralds.”
Teagen caught her breath. She shouldn’t be spying on them, but her curiosity got the better of her. She had to be certain the man was Ryce. Turning the corner, she hid behind the barracks and leaned her head over.
She gasped. His whole body lit under the moonlight. Whom Ryce was with, she couldn’t determine. All of a sudden, she didn’t care.
Ryce pulled back. This woman, whom he had not met till this eventide, had just kissed him. Even the Dyrahn women he had known were not so...confident. He’d drunk too much. He was always weak after a jug full of wine.
“I’m sorry, er...”
“Clarine.”
“I shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. You seem a sweet girl and all but—”
“It’s all right.” Clarine played with her hair. “At least I took a chance. You don’t bid, you don’t get, that’s what my Mama used to say.”
“Well, I wouldn’t always—”
“Anyway, suppose we ought to be getting back.”
Agreeing with her, he returned to the celebration, guilt riding over him. Sherwin had suggested he look elsewhere, although he didn’t mean the first girl who flattered his pride.
This particular eventide, Teagen’s countenance was enchanting, and if he were to control his thoughts at all, he needed to avoid her.
“There you are. I’d begun to think you’d departed,” said Sherwin.
