“Blue!” the voice snapped. “Contain yourself!”
Darshan backed up further. It had been fortunate for him that she’d chosen to deflect his sword rather than to stand beyond his reach and let the blade pass unimpeded, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t entitled to his victory.
“I’m fine,” his opponent hollered. She waved the point of her sword at the people who’d entered the arena to check on her, warding them back. “It’s nae broken.” Even as she insisted, she shielded her injured hand with her body. “Announce the next bout and I’ll prove I can still compete!”
Silence fell over the crowd. So singular in thought that Darshan fancied he could almost make out the words. Will he let her fight again?
It wouldn’t matter if she won the duel as she now stood, she would fail once they reached the final test. Attempting archery with a broken hand would hardly yield the best result.
Darshan lifted his sword in preparation for an attack. Given her temper, she was likely to come at him with all the fury of a mother cow protecting her calf. He was close now, he couldn’t risk dropping his guard.
“Victory to red,” the mediator called out to the astonished yells and bleats of the crowd. “I’ve made me decision. I’ve made it, I said! Blue is nae fit to compete. Red wins. That’s final.”
I won? He staggered back, his weapon almost slipping from his hand. Naturally, winning had been the goal, but to actually manage it without his magic being much use… he hadn’t expected it to be so exhilarating. It rather reminded him of his old training days with his sister, Anjali, and their Nanny Daama.
“Blue,” the man growled, clearly having lost his patience with the woman. “The duel’s over. You’ve lost. Remove your veil and return to your clan.”
The woman begrudgingly obeyed, tearing the scarf from her face. She marched past Darshan towards the arena gate, bumping his shoulder along the way. “I hope you fall on your face, cheater,” she grated. Her dark eyes flashed dangerously beneath the overhang of thick black brows. “A wee thing like you couldnae possibly swing that hard. Your sword’s nae the same, is it?” She lunged at him.
“Me Lady!” the announcer roared. “Step down or be forced.”
The woman ignored the man to favour of tearing Darshan’s sword from his grasp.
Darshan scuttled back, one hand on his scarf. It was still held tightly in place. Would she dare attempt to snatch it from his head?
“I kenned something was up,” she crowed, lifting the sword high. “It’s weighted.”
On the murky edge of his vision, Darshan spied the blurry figures of others entering the arena. The clank of chain mail reached his ears before he could make out their uniforms. Castle guards.
Darshan stiffened. If anyone amongst them recognised him…
The man stood between him and the woman. One grabbed the sword from her, hefting it even as he restrained her. “Nae it’s not, lass.” With one hand on her shoulder, he guided the woman away from Darshan.
Giving a sour grunt, she jerked out of the guard’s grasp and strode off into the crowd mingling at the gate. Flanked by the men the whole way.
Only when she was well beyond reach did Darshan finally let his guard drop. He had made it through the first trial. One down.
Winning this contest seemed just a fraction more feasible.
~~~
Hamish gripped the rail. It was all that stopped him from rushing into the arena to embrace Darshan. He couldn’t look too favourably at any one victory least it drew his mother’s suspicion. He did it. His lover had bloody won.
His heart had almost given out when the sword had slammed into Darshan’s ribs; an incapacitating blow had the blades been sharpened. Yet, his lover seemed well now. Had Darshan actually managed to heal himself so swiftly or had the blow simply not been as vicious as it had looked?
He hadn’t missed the wind that circled through the crowd, moving like no breeze had ever done within the castle grounds. Had anyone else? Nae likely. No other spectators would be on the lookout for magic.
Making sure that he didn’t seem any more pleased with the outcome than other duels he had witnessed today, Hamish worked his way along the arena railing. If he timed leaving, then he might be able to spend a brief moment in the tent with Darshan to ensure his lover was fully healed. And ask if the man was aware of what the next trial entailed.
He barely registered a figure striding into his path before bumping into them. “Sorry, I—”
They grasped his shoulders in a familiar hold, keeping them upright as they stumbled. “Steady on,” his brother said. “Anyone would think you’ve places to be.”
Hamish shook his head. Of all the people to collide with. Had Gordon been watching the outcome? He had paid only mild interest at the rest of the duels. Would his brother’s attention on this one be noted as peculiar? “I ought to knock your teeth in.”
Gordon’s eyes widened to their fullest. “What did I do?”
“You ken exactly what you’ve gone and done.” Hamish folded his arms. “Tell me, where do you think the Udynean ambassador is right now?”
“I saw him wandering the grounds yesterday, but…” His brother’s gaze flicked to the arena, but both victor and loser were gone. He shrugged. “I’m sure he’s around.”
Hamish leant on the railing. “Closer than I think? I hear you’ve been keeping him occupied.” He turned his head slowly as if the crowd didn’t bother him. A fresh pair of contestants had entered the arena and no one seemed to be paying their princes much mind. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice. “And victorious.”
His brother’s brows rose. “Is
