by S E Zbasnik
Finally, the nameless girl turned her blinding sapphire eyes on Hayley and in a voice that would make snakes shiver asked, “Who’s that?”
“Ah, Nell.” Finn was bandying back and forth on his legs, clearly pissed as hell that Hayley walked in on him with another…With a new? Oh, that bastard! Her right fist locked tight to the hilt at her hip, rattling the scabbard. It was instinct, mostly to keep her from punching Finn’s lights out, but it drew the boy’s gulping eyes to her side.
“She’s Hay—”
“Hayley!” another new voice added to the fray, this one masculine. Turning in place, Hayley spotted Abed dressed rather well — livery spotless and practically sewn to his frame. The boy dashed up, his eyes barely darting to the whore being mauled by Nell. “Your knight’s looking for you,” he said to the other squire in the mix.
“You have a knight?” Nell asked as if in shock.
A cruel idea took hold of Hayley’s brain and, with effort, she twisted her sneer into a sweet smile. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Hayley knotted her entire arm around Abed’s. The boy stared at it in confusion but didn’t shake her off as she nearly hooked her elbow around his and gripped onto his forearm.
“Yes,” Hayley said to Nell. “Didn’t Finn tell you about me?”
She expected him to be a babbling puddle on the floor, but Finn was fuming. Flames on his head, smoke out the nostrils angry, and all of it was directed at the confused squire twisting his head around and trying to not knock into Hayley on accident.
“What are you doing?” he spat, glaring at Abed.
Hayley smiled up at her fellow squire. “Yes, what did Gavin want?”
“Uh, the opening ceremony’s gonna start soon. He needs you in place…?” Something of the crackling air must have struck the lost boy as Abed glanced over to Finn who was no longer clinging to Nell but snarling at the squire that could chop a stableboy into tiny bits. Hayley herself wanted to take a crack at Finn, but she had to be on her best behavior. Which did mean getting to Gavin’s side quickly.
“Come on, Abed.” Hayley patted her hand to his chest, meaning it to be lighthearted, but it surprised her how there was little give. A flash of Marco straining to climb the well rope rampaged out of her memories and Hayley’s little farce snapped in half. She felt sick in her gut, mad at Finn for being Finn, and mad at herself for caring. Why did her stupid heart keep digging up these damn memories of a boy she barely knew? Why did it act as if she cared?
Shaking her head, Hayley spun away from the couple. She’d cry over it later, shake her fists, probably shout so loud Ania’d ask her to quiet down. But at the moment her veins were ice cold, grief lapping over the burning jealousy. Abed stumbled beside, his arm remaining locked around hers as they clip-clopped over the wooden floor. Just before slipping out into the late afternoon sun, Hayley cast a quick glance back behind her.
Finn was leaning close to Nell, a hand placed to her pristine cheek. She tipped her head into it, a smile rising on her lips before the two began to cross the space between them. Squeezing her eyes tight, Hayley spun back to watch a horse’s ass dribble shit onto the ground. It was preferable to having to witness their kiss.
Damn him. Don’t cry. You don’t have time to cry. You can’t afford to cry. Just forget it. Forget you ever liked the jackass. Forget you ever looked twice at him and his huge forehead.
“Should I take you to Gavin or…?” Abed asked, snapping Hayley out of her funk. She stared in askance at him, confused as to where he came from before glancing down at their locked in hands. Yanking her arm away, Hayley staggered to the side.
“No, I…I know where he is,” she said, wincing at her dumb plan. What would Finn care if she had some handsome squire waiting for her? What would he care if she even survived this tournament?
“All right,” Abed said slowly. He began to step away, leaving Hayley digging her fingers into the hair under her cap as if that would worry away all the evil feelings. “Do I want to know what all that was about?”
“No.” She shook her head hard, unable to look at him. It was so God damn embarrassing. “I didn’t want to talk that boy, is all,” Hayley sniffed out, mad at herself for dragging him into this.
“For what it’s worth,” Abed added, “I miss Marco too.”
There it went. The plug she’d kept in place yanked free, tears springing down her cheeks. Hayley tried to smother them with her palms, her calluses bathed in pain. She bobbed her head, hoping it’d be enough to send Abed on his way.
He tried to pat her on the shoulder, clearly terrified of the girl crying, before skittering back to his knight. Marco. She should be bawling her eyes out over Marco. Everyone kept giving her sideways glances over him. At first, she thought it was ‘cause they knew she killed him, she was the cause of his death, but then the “sorry’s” started. Almost as if people thought they were real close.
She wished they had been close because then maybe she wouldn’t give a fart in winter about Finn. Jabbing a fist to her sternum, as if that might shut up her heart, Hayley dashed towards Gavin’s tent. The last of her tears watered the ground outside the stable door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“Squires!”
The whole line of young men and women gulped deep, doing their best to not shit their hose. At least that was how Hayley felt, the side of her vision drifting down the never-ending sea of green, blue, and red. She kept herself focused on the peers at her sides, or the targets directly ahead because giving an inch of thought to the mass of people above them would cause her legs to crumble.
Falling to the dirt in the middle of the first day of the tourney would, if not get her kicked out, cause her entire being to combust in some kind of shame fire.
Okay. You can do this.
You can at least attempt this.
Circling her fingers tight, she drew up and down the drawstring on her bow like it was a lute. Breaths. It was good to breathe — at all times, really — but especially now. Take ‘em in slow and steady.
A flag raised near the end, their master of the tourney — a woman with a face painted snow white and great red circles on her cheeks — waiting to give the signal. Giving her bow one last twang, Hayley bent down to excise up the arrow. There were three. Three chances to do anything. Just get a hit in. She had to do that to move on to the next round. One hit to the target. No problem.
A roar like thunder beating down upon a squalling ocean ripped apart her resolve. She broke her rule and looked up into the stands where a multitude stared at her, glared at her, waited to watch her fail. Crap.
She was balmy. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do any of this!
Hayley wanted to hurl the bow to the ground and run for the exit, but in twisting her head to freedom she spotted Gavin standing against the wall. The other knights were beside him, all talking together and boasting about their squires, but he was silent. His amber eyes were upon the scraggly girl he scooped up out of the river and took home.
The opening ceremonies were not that bad all things considered. Hayley forgot her fuming at Finn the moment the first fires were struck, the flames shifting in color as people on stilts fed the braziers various bundles. Purples, greens, blues, nearly a rainbow of colors burst from the fires lit above them all. Head high, she’d stood beside her knight greeting and bowing to every nobility who paraded before them. It felt like the sea's waves with no end in sight, but Hayley didn’t falter for a moment. She even tried to slap a smile on for a while until Gavin told her that a stern glare would go further.
Scare them into cheering for you. Pretend you were the biggest, baddest thing in the arena and maybe someone would buy it. Could even be yourself.
She wound up spending half the night gorging on fancy cakes and pies, red cherry juice staining her lips and teeth before the babbling and ecstatic squire plummeted face first onto her pallet. With morning came the first true day of the tourney. The first challenge was for the squires, menial in the long l
ist of what was to come, but Hayley’s only chance to prove herself worthy of this. Worthy of being accepted. Worthy of being cared for.
Breaking from his imposed stoicism, when Gavin’s amber eyes landed upon his trembling squire he smiled widely and hefted up a thumb. Placing it to his chin, he wafted it out to her and extended the fingers flat. Good luck.
The smile transferred to Hayley’s face. She spun to the target, the arrow nocking into place. The bow’s tension remained slack as she waited, trying to visualize the red and yellow circles what felt like a country mile away. To the side, she watched as the Master of Tourney dropped the flag. Like kicking a wasp’s nest, every squire flew to work. Arrows began to zip straight down the line, the would-be knights barely needing a second to line it up.
Hayley was not so lucky. She bobbed the tip of the arrow back and forth, her arms screaming at her for putting so much pressure on them. Pinning her tongue in between her teeth, Hayley released the first arrow. It cut through the air fast but struck deep into the wooden wall above the cluster of targets. The spectators that’d been dangling over the wall cringed and tried to dodge away in fear of being kebobed.
Shit! Okay, it was just one loss, there were two more left. Gavin said as long as she got one hit she’d be okay. They’d let her at least try. She wouldn’t be a big, fat goose egg on his score.
Shaking her shoulders, Hayley hefted up her second arrow. The squires around her were already on their third or done.
Don’t look at them. Focus on your path.
With one eye closed, the target was now ten miles away and impossible to reach. She couldn’t do this. She didn’t stand a blighted chance. Why did she think for even two seconds she could pull it off?
Your elbow’s too high.
Hayley’s sight broke from the arrow to her elbow once again flapping far above where it should be. With Ania’s flat words bounding in her brain, Hayley inched the damn joint lower and took aim. Please, please, please hit something! Not someone in the audience, but something on the target.
With her sad little prayer, Hayley released her grip and watched the arrow go. It wobbled, whipping back and forth through the air. She gritted her teeth in fear it’d wind up puncturing the ground instead, but there must have been just enough oomph as the head stuck into the edge of the target. It was by a hair, but it was in there.
She was safe! Hayley bounced up and down on her toes screaming in her head that she did it. The eyes of the finished squires at her side all turned to her and she froze. Right, one more to go. Well, even if that one went sailing off into the sun it didn’t matter. She could fight.
Relaxing, Hayley tugged back the nocked arrow. Then she dropped her elbow.
Remember the tug while climbing the rope, remember the force put into making it to the top.
Strength surged not from her bicep but her shoulder, flattening the bowstring so tight across her cheek she could smell it.
Here went nothing. Fingers slipped free, releasing the last arrow as every damn finished squire, every spectator in the stands, even the Master of the Tourney all watched. It should have broken her, but Hayley didn’t care. She got her one in. She could try.
Slicing through the air faster than any of the others before, her arrow split straight through the heart of the other fletching groupings and buried itself into the dead center of the target.
A bullseye? She hit a bullseye? Holy shit!
With a laugh building in her throat, Hayley jumped up into the air, her hands clapping together in joy as she bounced in a circle. “I hit a bullseye!” she cried when a couple dozen long stares bit through her skin.
A great blush burned at the back of her neck, returning the jubilant girl back to the earth, but nothing could destroy the joy in her heart. She did it. She really did it. While the official scorers ran down to the targets to record who did what, Hayley spun back to Gavin and signed, “I did it.”
Without pause, he answered, “I knew you would.”
“Squires!” the Master of Tourney shouted loudly, her staff coated in bells shaking for their attention. “We shall tally your scores and begin forming the lineup to see who shall square off against whom.”
Okay. That was the first bit down. Hefting up her bow, Hayley dashed back to Gavin, her eyes wild in excitement. She felt as if she could take on the world, but now she had to wait. With a happy glee, Hayley placed the bow back in their little area below the stands.
“What happens next?” she asked her knight.
“It will take them a few hours to run up the tallies, form couplets,” Gavin said. “In the meantime, a bandy group of clowns shall entertain the masses.” He waved to a horde of people dressed in garish garments all painted in a similar but more exaggerated fashion to the Master of Tourney. They were dashing and cavorting around the hallowed grounds. Two grabbed each other’s ankles and began to roll like a wheel, much to the crowd’s delight.
The stands circling the dirt arena were great — easily ten to twelve rows high and covering an area two hundred yards wide. Only the first two or three rows were packed with a handful of people sitting towards the back while munching on food or talking. When Hayley first stood in the middle of the arena, with no one in place save the handful of nobility in their curtained boxes she quivered in fear at the idea of so many people crammed into one area. But the pittance here wasn’t too bad. Still scary, but survivable at least.
“What should I do?” Hayley asked, her knees knocking together.
“You could go and stand near the judges, as some of the other squires are doing,” Gavin said. Sure enough, a few of the anxious ones were dashing to the tent set up inside the arena itself. “But as I said, it will take hours.”
“Where do you think I’ll wind up?” Hayley asked. She staggered up on her tiptoes, staring at the other first and second year squires all forming a barricade around the tent.
“I’d assumed in the lower ranks, not a terrible place to be as you’d work out some nerves, but that bullseye of yours…” Gavin paused and scratched his chin, the length of time worrying Hayley. Should she have not done it? Was she in too deep? So deep she’d drown?
Her knight smiled wide. “You won’t have to fight as many rounds to reach the top.”
“Think that’ll happen?” she asked knowing the answer was no but hoping it was a yes.
“Skill above all things,” Gavin said to her. He raised his hand as if he was about to pat her on the shoulder before placing it awkwardly to the hilt at his side.
Hayley bobbed her head at that. He was always on about skill, mastering every move. Planning, strategizing, training, honing. She tried her best, but the timeframe was…not good.
“But sometimes, even the most skilled warrior, the best trained and battle-hardened, can be felled by luck. Which, I’m beginning to think you might have in spades.” He smiled so brightly at her, Hayley felt her heart swell in pride. “Now, stop listening to an old man prattle,” he laughed. “Go join your friends in the stands. They’ll call for you when it’s time.”
With a nod, Hayley scampered around the arena walls. She knew where she was headed, but even still it gave her a chance to scan the people supposedly there to cheer her and the other squires on. At the moment, most were laughing at the antics of the entertainment. A couple seemed to be bored and were trying to hurl their half-eaten lunch at the clowns. Hayley skirted around the attempts, but with each toss, a flock of birds would descend from the tall pillars circling the arena and gobble it up.
Silly her thinking this Grand Tournament might be something fancy where drunkards didn’t hurl food on the floor. Though, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of any of the nobles she had to bow and capitulate to last night. Maybe they all slept in.
Shaking the thought off, Hayley caught the flash of green she’d hoped to find dashing down the middle of the seats. She raised her hand as far as it would stretch to wave even while running towards the one fan in her corner.
�
��Ania!” Hayley shouted while also signing it.
Her friend had to slide past two men who were debating the best bow size for hunting stag, neither willing to give a quarter, but Ania was all smiles. “You got a bullseye!”
“I know!” Hayley shouted up to her. The stand line cut off somewhere a good eight feet tall, requiring Hayley to tip her head way back. She flattened her chest to the wall and reached upward. With a laugh, Ania curled her stomach against the drop-off and reached downward. Their fingers just barely skimmed against each other, but it was enough to make both girls laugh.
“I knew you could do it,” she cheered, even though Hayley knew Ania would have buried all three arrows into the middle of the target without breaking a sweat.
“That makes one of us,” Hayley snorted.
A sour voice drawled from the side, “I’m impressed you didn’t fire backwards.”
Oh for the love of Christ. Hayley kept her curse internal, but she didn’t hide the groan while turning to stand toe to toe with the viper smile. Hayley had really hoped Larissa was stuck on the other side of the kingdom — preferably in a bog while vultures put on bibs and salivated. But no, of course not. Hayley was never so lucky.
Slapping on a fraudulent smile, Hayley turned to the girl dressed and pressed to impress. She even put a bit of color on her cheeks and lips for the occasion. Feeling like cat barf just from being near her, Hayley pinched into her hand and said, “Worried you’ll have to face me in the ring?”
Larissa snorted. “Hardly. It’s a wonder you even managed to survive the trip to the tourney. Do you really think you stood a chance against this much talent?”
“I dunno,” Hayley shrugged. “Did you manage to get a bullseye during the archery challenge?”
The viper’s tongue darted over her perfect white teeth, barely slithering back inside as she weighed her words. “No,” she admitted, causing Hayley to smile smugly. Yeah, didn’t think so. “But I did manage to hit the target with all three of my arrows, unlike some other barely-squires I could mention.”
