by Terry Spear
Which of course brought even more curious humans to investigate what was going on that was eliciting such a huge response in the jousting arena.
Finally ready and with only a motion of his gold and ruby ring–clad hand, King Tibero signaled for the joust to begin.
Kneeing their horses, Niall and Reginald galloped across the field, the heavier duty, six–pound lances readied, as weighty as Niall was accustomed to using. They rushed past one another, their horses’ hooves sending the dirt flying and the hardwood struck hardwood making a resounding smack! The jarring motion traveled up Niall’s arm with a jolt, but neither the count nor the knight knocked the other from his mount.
His heart thundering in his ears, Niall turned his horse and waited while Reginald reached the far end of the arena and readied himself for another pass. Serena was right, Niall had to admit. The Black Knight had the decided advantage with having jousted twice a day for the past several weeks. Niall had always been good at the task, but he could tell the way the muscle in his arm twitched from the impact that he hadn’t shifted to balance in his saddle as well as he could, which meant he was still a bit out of practice.
Yet, Niall had the best motive in the world to unseat the knight and to bring honor to his people. With determination to prove the Denkar could trounce the dragon fae on their own stomping grounds for one of their kind attempting to break up a lion fae’s marriage contract with the Mabara, Niall felt invincible.
But Reginald had a lot to lose if he should have to concede to Niall, while facing his king and his people, but with Serena and her kind there also, if he lost today, he’d lose much more than a lovely winged fae as his bride.
Reginald charged forth and this time he appeared to want to end this now, as if the first pass was only for show and now he meant business. Except Niall knew Reginald had hoped to easily unseat him from his horse the first time. What a boon that would have been. No contest at all.
With the sound of the horses’ hooves pounding against the earth and the spectators perfectly quiet, the sun beating down on them mid–afternoon, and lances poised, Niall and Reginald clashed so hard, Niall was thrown from his mount.
Cursing to himself, Niall lay in the dirt on his back, not sure if he was the only one down or not. His people called to him, shouting encouragement, booing Sir Reginald as the knight’s people laughed at Niall. He had the sinking feeling he had lost the joust.
But all he cared about was Serena and her welfare.
Micala, acting as Niall’s squire, hurried to help him up, his cousin quickly saying, “Niall, you knocked the fire right out of the dragon. He’s fuming mad, cursing out loud, not a good sport at all.”
“He’s down?” Niall managed to get out.
“Aye.”
“I knocked him down?”
Micala grinned at him. “Aye. Though he got you, too. But you were well–matched. Despite that he’s been practicing for weeks, and you’re a bit rusty in the saddle. Just imagine if you had been training as long and hard as he has. He fell on his face in the dirt, not half as elegant as the way you landed on your backside.”
Niall smiled, ready to do further battle. Although if Sir Reginald wished to end this as a draw as it was now, he would concede the joust was a tie. He didn’t expect Sir Reginald to give up just yet, but it was an honorable way to end the joust. No matter what though, Niall wouldn’t give up Serena to the dragon fae.
Once Niall was on his feet and had steadied himself, he bowed to his queen, which made the Denkar roar with good cheer as if they were one mighty lion. Then he turned to the Mabara, and again bowed, only this time he removed his helm and winked at Serena. Her pale face flushed crimson as her ladies giggled next to her. The Mabara went wild with cheers as the dragon fae attempted to outdo the Mabara and lion fae with jeers, boos, and hisses of their own.
With the help of his squire, Reginald finally made it to his feet, standing stony–faced, the once pristine silver dragon on his tunic covered in dirt, the dragon’s flames doused. He didn’t even acknowledge his own people, his rage building, his eyes smoldering with gold–ringed venom.
While Niall was receiving so much adoration, Reginald grabbed a sword from his squire and stormed across the arena toward him.
Micala hastily handed Niall an unfamiliar sword. “From Queen Verbenia herself. Her deceased husband’s sword. The honor is all yours.”
Niall glanced in the direction of Serena’s mother, and the queen gave him a small smile and a nod of her head. Niall quickly showed his reverence to her, genuflecting, then rising to face the onslaught of the highly pissed–off dragon fae.
Their swords clanged and clashed as the two of them fought, the crowds now silent. Niall observed Reginald’s swings, the way he was so full of rage and appeared to want to end this joust quickly with a kill, that he wasn’t fighting in the best form.
Twice, Niall swung his sword to his advantage as he kept his feet apart and his body balanced. Twice, Reginald fell back, only able to defend against the mighty blows.
But then Reginald roared and rallied his strength, swinging his sword as a man possessed. His sword connected with Niall’s with a loud metal clang, tearing Niall’s weapon from his hand.
A wave of worried “no’s” and “ahhs” rent the air. Niall dove for his sword as fast as his heavy armor would permit. He heard running footfalls behind him, was pretty certain Reginald would strike him in the back to knock him down if he could. But Niall grabbed his sword off the ground, pivoted around, and connected with a swing of Reginald’s sword.
The cheers were thunderous.
Despite having thwarted Reginald’s dastardly move, Niall wasn’t in the best of form when the brutal assault began. Attempting to widen his feet and crouch a little for better balance to resume the fight, Niall found himself defending and losing ground, rather than battling on the offensive.
He could deal with it though. He often practiced sword fighting against both Micala and Deveron. Both would gang up on him, forcing him to feel overwhelmed, beaten, unable to win. He always fought back as good–naturedly as before. Which was the only reason they had ganged up on him like that in training.
With that thought in mind, Niall smiled, recovered his balance and charged forth. One dragon fae was no match for him, not when he could hold his own against two lion fae.
Every blow he struck at Reginald was decisive and forced the knight to react rather than act. Niall caught Micala’s look, saw the grin on his cousin’s face as if he knew just what Niall had recalled about their own sword fighting practices.
“Concede, Sir Reginald,” Niall shouted, although the helm muffled his words and he was breathing so hard, he was sure his voice didn’t have the command to it as he wished.
“Give up yourself, dark fae,” Reginald said with a sneer.
They couldn’t keep up this pace forever. Not in the hot Texas heat, not while wearing the heavy armor, although not as heavy as the human knights or fae wore in times gone by that could have been as much as sixty to ninety pounds. But it still weighed around forty pounds. And swinging the sword weighing another six or so pounds and crashing it against another with full force was just as wearying.
Reginald stumbled and Niall paused, thinking he was ready to finally give in. The knight fell to one knee, and again Niall said, “Give up, Sir Knight. The battle is done.”
Niall wanted to be standing at the end, not lying in the dirt in a worn-out heap, too tired to even summon the strength to fae travel away from here. He moved forward as the knight seemed unable to get to his feet without help and offered his hand. “’Tis done,” Niall shouted.
But Reginald swung his sword and connected with Niall’s leg, the sword slicing through the metal, cutting through his leggings, skin, and muscle.
Shocked gasps filled the air. Not even the dragon fae cheered their knight.
Niall fell to his knees, groaned in pain as the slice to skin and muscle burned with a vengeance. Blood soaked his leggings, and
he tried to stand but couldn’t.
Reginald rose unsteadily to his feet and lifted his visor. “Concede the joust, yourself, dragon fae,” he snarled and raised his sword as the winner.
King Tibero of the dragon fae stood and silenced the jeers of the Mabara and Denkar and the cheers of his own people. “We have one winner on the field today. Count Niall has that honor.”
Micala tried to reach Niall to aid him, but Reginald pointed his sword toward him in a threatening manner.
Niall wasn’t sure exactly what happened next. A sudden violent wind swept him and Reginald across the jousting field. Niall still had a titan grip on the sword Queen Verbenia had loaned him as he lay on his back near the dais where King Tibero had been sitting.
But Reginald had lost his sword and was eating dust when he tried to get to his hands and knees. Which, wearing armor, was impossible to do without a squire’s help.
After that, everything grew dim. Niall thought Serena kissed him as Micala tried to stem the bleeding from the cut on his leg. He imagined he heard Magdana say Serena had herbs that would heal the wound quickly and something to make him sleep so he would feel no pain.
Deveron said, “I have never seen you fight so remarkably well, all due to my training strategy when I pitted myself and Micala against you. Are you not glad I did?”
Niall believed Queen Irenis said he could marry anyone he wished. And he was pretty sure Queen Verbenia said she wanted the marriage contract rewritten.
But Serena’s cool hands on his forehead and her warm mouth on his was the only thing that brought him to full consciousness as the dimness faded to light. Standing before him in his chambers while he lay in his bed, a dull ache in his leg and head, he stared up at the winged fae—an angel with wings of black edged window panes.
She took a deep breath, folded her arms, and frowned. “I’m afraid you lost.”
“The joust?” Niall said, his voice a little rough. He shook his head. “You are not marrying that knight and no matter the outcome of the actual fight, I won.”
“No, that is not what I mean. The marriage contract has been renegotiated. My mother insists I marry the fae who would dare attempt to rescue me from the tower after she put me there and after I dosed you with my sleeping potion.”
“Only to get the cure,” he said, brows raised.
She smiled, then frowned again. “And she further states she will only marry me to the fae who fought a dragon fae knight so valiantly to keep me from making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Aye, ‘tis true it would have been your greatest folly.”
She arched a brow.
He shrugged, fighting a smile.
“My grandmother said since you kissed me, it was a done deal anyway.”
“Your grandmother?”
“And because you wore my favor, even though I had not given it…”
“Your favor?”
“My gold scarf. The one Granny gave you. The one you wore tied to your belt.”
“The witch?” he asked, confused.
Serena laughed. “She tells everyone who comes her way that she is a witch, but there’s no truth to it.”
“I didn’t believe she was anything but kind and had your best interests at heart.”
“Aye.” Serena ran her finger over Niall’s fingers. “She said she knew you were an honorable man when you vowed to protect me and wouldn’t even reveal who I was seeing at the fair.”
“I was afraid it would get back to your mother.”
“So you wanted to take care of the matter by yourself, without any back up.”
He groaned. The first time he hadn’t had any back up, Serena had put him to sleep.
“All right, but it means Micala is off the hook, and you have to accompany me trick–or–treating on All Hallow’s Eve in the human’s world.”
He took her hand in his and kissed it. “You are too old for that.”
“I will never be too old to have fun. And you have to agree to attend Renaissance fairs with me.”
“It is Morcalon territory. I’m certain they won’t like it if we…”
She raised a hand to stop him. “Another fair. I have heard a great one exists in Maryland. We will go there.”
“Which fae claims it as their territory?”
She shrugged.
He suspected she knew but didn’t want to say. Which meant they were bound to run into trouble.
“And as soon as I ditch my wings, I’m going to wear a hot pink bikini on trips to South Padre Island.”
“Only if you go with me, and only if you are invisible to the human population. Which means you must have your wings on full display.”
She smiled brightly and sat on the bed next to him. “You really don’t mind them?”
He reached out to touch one, his fingers like a brush of an eyelash, tickling her. “They’re not fragile.”
“They’re beautiful,” he said with real meaning, his gaze shifting to her face. “Just as you are. But no more painting graffiti on walls.”
“I think we will have to return to the Texas fair and leave a message for Reginald once you are well. What do you think?”
He groaned, knowing if he said no, she’d most likely go by herself, and that he would not let her do.
***
A week later, after Niall was well healed, he and Serena returned to the Renaissance fair in Texas well before it opened that morning. He had attempted to keep her from returning, to no avail. In the end, he knew he could never lock her up to keep her safe, free spirit that she was. So the next best thing was attempt to keep her out of trouble.
With a smile and wearing a hot pink bikini and pink silky skirt to match, Serena showed him the brushstrokes to paint the Denkar message on the dragon fae wall, written in the dragon fae’s language so the Black Knight would get the point. Except Niall couldn’t keep his eyes off the bewitching artist, not caring a thing about the artwork. And he definitely wanted to get her away from here before any of the fae saw her as sexy as she looked.
Then for an hour, they curled up on the hammocks where the jesters had once reclined when Niall so wanted to after having been drugged with the sleeping potion.
When the fairgrounds opened, Niall took Serena into the woods and waited, hidden from fae view, invisible to humans of course, watching the dragon fae gather at the tavern that served ale as they stared at the message. Some scratched their heads. Others shook theirs. One shrugged and threw his hands in the air in a sign of confusion. Even Sir Reginald was there looking just as puzzled.
“I don’t think you wrote the message correctly,” Niall said, smiling at her as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
She sighed, reading the message over again. “I wonder what I did wrong this time?”
“There!” a dragon fae shouted, dressed as a monk in a brown woolen garment, his hood back, a rope tied around his waist like a belt.
All the dragon fae who were studying the message turned, their eyes widening to see Niall and Serena watching them from the woods.
“Get them!” Sir Reginald commanded.
“If you cannot read your own language, the message states: the good knight of the dark fae always wins!” Niall shouted.
Serena said, “That’s not what the…”
But Niall had already scooped her up in his arms, embracing her tightly, kissing her soundly, and transported her to the Denkar claimed territory of South Padre Island.
They were still kissing on the beach when the sun began to set, and at that point, Serena didn’t care what the message said. The only one she cared about was the one Niall shared with her. With all his heart, he loved her, and she him.
Her wings flapped in an excited symphony, showing him just how much he meant to her.
But she was still puzzled about one thing.
“I still can’t believe that Micala socked you in the eye before conceding that you and I were meant to be together.”
Niall sighed. “It was the honor
able way to resolve the situation since I’d kissed his betrothed. We had to resolve it that way wherein he gave me a black eye, or fight me in a joust. And you know how that would have turned out.”
“He wouldn’t have won.”
“He’s a better jouster, believe me, Serena.” He carried her to the water’s edge.
“He wouldn’t have won.”
Niall looked down at her as though he was finally getting her meaning. “You…would have interfered?”
She smiled in her most sugar-coated evil fae way.
“With your ability at harnessing the air currents? Sleeping powder?” Niall sighed. “’Tis good he just gave me a black eye, and you didn’t unleash one of your talents on him.”
“Aye. Now we can be friends…of a sort. Kiss me again, hero of my dreams. Send me to the moon.”
And Niall did with heartfelt enthusiasm as she responded in kind, grateful their queens both saw the light before it was too late.
###
About the Author:
Award-winning author of urban fantasy and medieval historical romantic suspense, Heart of the Wolf named in Publishers Weekly's BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR, NOR Reader Choice for BEST PARANORMAL ROMANCE.
Terry Spear also writes true stories for adult and young adult audiences. She’s a retired lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army Reserves and has an MBA from Monmouth University and a Bachelors in Business and Distinguished Military Graduate of West Texas A & M. She also creates award-winning teddy bears, Wilde & Woolly Bears, to include personalized bears designed to commemorate authors’ books. When she’s not writing or making bears, she’s teaching online writing courses in the Heart of Texas.
http://www.terryspear.com/
Table of Contents
The World of Fae, Book 3
