Fighting for You

by Megan Derr

  "I hope we didn't interrupt anything, or cause you trouble," Sendaar said.

  Penli flapped a hand. "Not at all, crumpet. The only person who'd be mad at me for this is already mad at me for nearly dropping a flower pot on his head."

  "Thank you again," Teia said.

  "No thanks necessary, I promise."

  "I almost wish the pot had landed on his head," Sendaar said.

  Penli almost told them what he was planning, but bit the words back at the last moment. It was better for all of them if they didn't know he was going to challenge.

  And he was stubbornly, foolishly set on it enough he didn't want to hear them reject the idea until he absolutely must.

  Though what he was going to do if he actually won the damned challenge, he hadn't the slightest. Thankfully, he didn't have to figure it out quite yet, and he had two lovely distractions in the meantime.

  Kissing each of them, Penli then rose and said, "Gather up our clothes and hide in the bedroom. I'll call for food, and I think tonight we can let everyone feast in the dining hall without us. Unless you have elsewhere to be today?"

  "Nowhere at all," Teia said. "Nothing that won't keep, at any rate. I'm to be married in a month and two days. We'll take whatever happiness and fun we can until then—though if you want—"

  "I want you in my bed, ready to be fucked by the time I join you," Penli cut in.

  They bestowed matching grins on him, bright and beautiful, and oh, he really was stupid to get so tangled up in a mess that wasn't his just to see them happy. He simply didn't care.

  He gathered up his own clothes and put enough of them on to be respectable, then went to ring for a servant and arrange their night.

  Chapter Three

  Penli woke early, like usual, to get in some practice before breakfast. Though he was retired, and had no intention of coming out of retirement, he didn't want to grow soft either. Now he also had the challenges to prepare for, which meant morning practice was going to get a lot more brutal. Most of his training focused on archery, but a few times a week he also focused on swordsmanship and knifework. Now, he'd be doing all of those every day.

  A pity Teia and Sendaar were long gone, even if it was for the best. Maybe once the challenge was over, they could…

  Best not to be getting ahead of himself. Look how much trouble he was already about to get himself into.

  Carrying his practice sword and the rolled up sheath that held his daggers, which was normally worn on his back, he headed leisurely through the halls to the smaller practice yard at the southeast end of the palace, eschewing the much larger practice yard that took up most of the space directly behind the palace.

  When he arrived, however, it was to see he wasn't alone.

  Sendaar froze in the middle of a swing. "What are you doing here?"

  Penli laughed. "I come here most mornings, apple tart. Why are you in this little place instead of the main yard?"

  "I like the quiet," Sendaar replied. "It's not something we get often, always traveling. And the fewer people I have to deal with here, when all they can talk about is the wedding…" He shrugged, misery and bitterness overtaking his face. Then he grimaced. "I am sorry, my lord. You keep getting stuck listening to us complain." He smiled sadly. "It is good to see you again, even at something as unexciting as training."

  "And you," Penli said softly, disconcerted by how true the words were. "Up for a bit of sparring, pet?"

  Sendaar broke into a grin. "Sounds fun." He set his sword down and pulled down the buckler strapped to his back, buckling it into place on his left forearm. "What do I get if I win?"

  Anticipation, and something that felt like genuine excitement, and an almost-forgotten sense of camaraderie rushed through him. "If you win, you can name your boon."

  "Dangerous," Sendaar said, retrieving his practice sword again and moving to take up the start position at the far side of the ring.

  Penli tied back his hair, strapped on his buckler, and drew his own sword. Getting into position on the opposite side of the ring, he said, "On the count?"

  Sendaar nodded.

  On the count of three, they burst into movement, and Penli was nearly distracted from his work by admiring how quickly and lightly Sendaar moved. Though Penli was by no means a tiny or skinny individual, he was accustomed to being the slighter in fights, relying on speed to counter stronger, bigger opponents.

  How unusual to be the larger, though he wasn't any slower.

  He ducked a swing and slammed his buckler into Sendaar's chest, knocking him briefly off balance. But before he could bring his sword into position, Sendaar had recovered and was back on the attack. Penli blocked the swing with his sword that time, then darted aside as the swords slid apart.

  Sendaar kicked the back of his knee, sending Penli tumbling. He rolled away and gained his feet only barely in time to block the next swing that came at him.

  Back and forth across the training ground they sparred, until both were covered in dirt and sweat, with scattered nicks and scraps.

  Penli yelped as Sendaar sent him toppling to the ground and his sword went flying, but he managed to knock Sendaar's sword away with his buckler, swept his legs out from under him, and rolled to pin Sendaar to the ground, thighs trapping Sendaar's legs and his fingers wrapped tightly around slender, but strong wrists. They were both panting heavily as Penli said, "Do you yield, sweetness?"

  Laughing, eyes bright the thrill of a friendly fight, Sendaar said, "I yield."

  Penli kissed him, heedless of the sweat and dirt and how they were both still trying to get their breath back. Drawing reluctantly back, he rolled away and climbed to his feet. After wiping sweat from his face with a relatively clean corner of his tunic, he went to retrieve his sword. "It's rare I lose my weapon. That was very well done."

  "I don't think I've ever been in a match that's lasted so long. Opponents usually go down easier or knock me down faster."

  "Agreed. We're well-matched." He sheathed his sword and returned his buckler to its place on his back before retrieving the daggers he'd set aside. "I suppose I should go make myself presentable for breakfast."

  Sendaar waited in the doorway for him. "What about your boon?"

  "Oh, right." Penli smiled. "As tempting as it is to claim something involving your mouth on me, I think I'd like to hear you sing again sometime."

  That got him an absolutely beautiful smile. "I could do that. Sometimes Teia and I take turns reading to each other. On nights he can't sleep, he likes when I read or sing to him."

  "That would be absolutely lovely," Penli murmured, and couldn't resist stealing another brief kiss, no matter how reckless it was. "Now I'd best be off, before I give in to temptation. I do hope your day goes well, or at least is bearable, my delight. Tell Teia I said hello."

  "Have a good day," Sendaar said softly, and after a last shy, parting glance, darted away down the hall.

  Penli watched him until he'd vanished, and then finally headed off back to his rooms, sighing at himself and his strange behavior.

  It took a great deal of scrubbing, but after a couple of hours he was finally fit for public viewing. He was just finishing with his earrings when the back of his neck tingled. He turned around just in time to brace for the tall, broad and heavily built woman barreling toward him with a familiar determined expression on her face. "Good morning, dew drop."

  "Don't 'dew drop' me," Shanna snapped, stopping just short of plowing into him. She jabbed his chest with two fingers. "What are you plotting?"

  "I never plot before midday, crumb cake. Plotting requires a smart jacket and a stiff drink, and it's too early for either."

  She jabbed him again. "You're not fooling me. You've been avoiding me the past two days, and Kallaar won't stop smirking whenever he thinks I'm not looking, so the two of you are doing something and I'll have the truth from one of you before the day is out."

  Penli's brows rose. "You think Kallaar is keeping a secret? Kallaar, who thinks you are a g
oddess on earth?"

  "He's a very good liar when he wants to be," Shanna groused. Her eyes narrowed. "Since when do you call him 'Kallaar'?"

  "It does seem a bit absurd to be so formal with him when I am so familiar with his wife," Penli replied.

  Shanna braced her hands on her hips. "Do not make me knock you over."

  "If you do, I shall be quite cross with you, rosette, because I've already ruined one good jacket this month and somehow got a tear in a favorite shirt. If you add this jacket to the casualty list, there will be no forgiveness and no quarter."

  Dropping her hands, laughter filling the hallway, Shanna replied, "You know I'd never bring harm to your clothes. But I will wound that pretty face if you don't confess your conniving."

  "That would spoil the fun, my sweet." He kissed her cheek. "Don't you trust me?"

  "Not when you're scheming, especially if you're conspiring with Kallaar, and definitely not when Tishasanti is nearby. If I'd known he was here, I would have warned the palace what a mistake that is. "

  Penli shrugged. "To be honest I assumed he'd be off somewhere his family couldn't take issue with his attitude problems."

  "From what I've seen, they instilled those attitude problems," Shanna said. "Why don't you just avoid him?"

  "Because that is what everyone else does, and what good has come of that?" Penli fussed with his jacket sleeves, smoothing out the cuffs and then the frogs that ran down his chest. Though short jackets were not the current fashion, he absolutely refused to wear the long, shapeless things that were. His ass and legs were not meant to hidden by flouncy, overlong folds and pleats. "Problems should not be ignored; they should be resolved, and I will resolve the problem of Tishasanti one way or another. Now cease your fretting, honey drop. Best you be able to plead ignorance, anyway."

  She gently grabbed his sleeves and pulled him close, looked up at him with those oh-so-pretty eyes that had first melted his firm resolve to stay well away from foolish things like friendship. He'd been twenty-two and Shanna just fourteen. There was no reason they should have become fast friends, and yet after only a matter of days it felt they'd been friends all their lives. "I know you are as brash as you are beautiful, Penli, but please be careful. I don't want to lose you, too. My stepfather—I thought he was going to kill you that night. You shouldn't even still want to be my friend, after all the grief you've suffered because of me."

  "My darling girl, you were the one who reminded me what friends are for and why I'm so very honored you are mine. I have no intention of bringing harm to myself, and I will be careful." He hugged her tightly and didn't let go until she'd stopped trembling. "Now run along and kiss your beloveds to help mitigate some of the rumors we've no doubt set to spinning."

  Laughing, tossing her hair, Shanna kissed his cheeks, hugged him again briefly, and with a small wave departed.

  Penli sighed when she had gone. He might not have plans to bring harm to himself, but that didn't mean he could do much about the fact Tishasanti was going to have every intention of killing him in… Penli pulled out his gold and amethyst pocket watch. Three hours. In just three hours he would either make a grand fool of himself, or he would essentially invite murder. And there was an excellent chance he'd do both.

  Tucking the watch away again, he resumed heading for the banquet hall where he had every intention of enjoying what could very well be his last meal. Mercy of the divine, why was he doing this again?

  But it took only recalling the night two days ago when Teia and Sendaar had so generously thanked him. Delightful as the sex was, though, Penli had been far more enthralled by smiles and laughter and the way they seemed to enjoy sleeping draped against his sides. That didn't make sense to him, seeing as they were the lovers and he a temporary amusement. A temporary safety, more like, but the important bit was that he was not permanent. Only Shanna had ever remained in his life by his choice; everyone else had been forced upon him. Gods, the broken arm had been a small price to pay for dodging the marriage he'd been dreading.

  Shaking off glum thoughts as he reached the banquet hall, Penli helped himself to the delightful offerings and slipped outside to eat in the garden. The few others gathered there politely ignored him the same way they were politely ignoring each other, and by the time he was done Penli was almost in a good mood again.

  Picking up one of his bows, Penli examined it thoroughly. This particular one was his favorite, a long bow made of a single piece of dragon oak. Not easy to come by, or anywhere near the realm of cheap. He'd been looking forward to using it when King Mercen had violently removed him from the contest. Hopefully he'd be able to compete again someday, when Mercen no longer wanted to remove him from the world.

  In addition to his long bow, he had a composite bow meant for hunting, two others meant for combat, and a crossbow he didn't particularly care for but could use effectively. He also had a bow meant especially for flight competitions, but those weren't nearly as interesting to him as the target and terrain competitions.

  He also had swords, daggers, and two shields, along with various types of armor and other equipment. All of it was as beautifully crafted as it could be without sacrificing integrity. His surcoats were masterpieces: purple, red, black, and gold, his crest three black roses with gold vines, a red and purple flower-drinking bird above the roses. Not his family crest, no, he'd always very firmly refused to be associated with his family more than strictly necessary. Even his title hadn't come from his family, but been granted to him by Shanna's mother in reward for the small skirmish in which he'd killed at least seventeen men and wound up saving hundreds. It had been one of the ugliest fights he'd ever been in, and he'd lost several comrades before it was over. He'd endured several more skirmishes, none quite as bad as the one that had made him a source of morbid fascination for a time, before finally returning to the palace feeling like a hollow shell of himself, ugly and broken and shattered.

  He had a title, land that brought in a great deal of money, shares in numerous businesses, prize money from the archery contests, and before all of that he'd had reward money given for especially dangerous and difficult kills made during the war. It had given his parents exactly the leverage they needed to negotiate his marriage with a prince. Penli had just wanted to be left alone, save for the princess he called friend.

  Abandoning his weapons and armor, Penli went into his bed chamber and stripped, changing into clothes that were suitable for late afternoon and well into the evening. Scarlet was a little flashy, but combined with black and some modest green and gold touches, it came together rather well.

  Sitting at his dressing table, he added some rubies and emeralds to his long hair, as well as ruby teardrop earrings. Mercy, he missed all the jewelry he'd been forced to leave behind along with his wardrobe. He did not survive ten years of military life to be denied his indulgences now.

  Well, hopefully when he died they would bury him in what he wore. He did not trust any of them to dress him suitably and he wasn't quite morbid enough to lay out his funeral dress.

  Returning to the sitting room, he tucked a couple of small daggers into his clothes, then went to the settee where he'd left his latest book and read a few more chapters before the palace bells tolled. The hour of his demise was mere moments away.

  When he reached the hall where the Ceremony of Declaration was taking place, he wasn't surprised that he garnered looks and whispers. After all, no one knew he was friends with Teia and Sendaar, and why would a stray foreigner have any interest in such a mundane matter?

  A few people greeted him politely, and Penli returned them without lingering as they clearly hoped. He settled at a table with only two other people occupying it. One of them bore a passing resemblance to Teia, so probably family. Across the room was a beautiful woman with silvering hair who bore a near exact likeness to Sendaar, and she looked close to tears. Where was Sendaar?

  But that was a stupid question. He sat next to Teia up at the front, holding hands beneath the table.
Penli ached to go to them, but stayed where he was. As much as he dreaded the unavoidable violence that would ensue because everything Tishasanti did was violent, he was more anxious over how Teia and Sendaar would react.

  Because the first step in a challenge was declaring it. The second step was having the challenge accepted by the suitor in question—Teia, in this case. Then the ruling monarch had to approve it.

  After that came the first of the three challenges: proving he was a worthy challenger. It was the easiest one, but where most challenges failed. In one of the accounts he'd read, the matter had become so contested it took an entire month to decide whether or not a challenger was the equal of the suitor she was opposing—and ultimately the challenger had been declared unfit.

  And that woman had possessed far more advantages than Penli. He and Kallaar, with unofficial advice from Queen Hajar, had compiled his credentials. He should pass muster, but Penli had learned the hard way, with battle scars and dead comrades, to never assume the battle was won until it was won.

  Sipping at a cup of tea he'd requested, Penli waited with a patience he did not feel as the ceremony began, and gulped down two additional cups of too-hot tea before the presiding priest stepped onto the dais and boomed out, "Are there any challengers to this union?"

  Penli tamped down on his nerves, finished his last swallow of tea, and rose. "I challenge as suitor for the honor of marrying Lord Teia ren Hallish."

  In the front of the room, Teia jerked upright as though struck, and both he and a crying Sendaar whipped around to stare at him, mouths open and eyes wide.

  "What!" Tishasanti bellowed as he surged to his feet and jerked around. "Penlington, what the fuck—"

  "Sit. Down," King Adnan commanded, and glared hard when Tishasanti looked like he was going to argue.

  Tishasanti obeyed, but sat so he could continue glaring at Penli.

  "Come forward," King Adnan said.