“My king, we have found him, but he is wanting-”
“Good!” the king bellowed. “Then why didn’t you bring him to me like I asked? Hmm?”
Ser Faron Colt in the arena knocked the helmet off Ser Keiren with the pommel of his sword. The crowd went wild as Ser Keiren desperately chased after it on his hands and knees.
“My king,” the messenger stammered, bowing once again. He did not want to offend. “Prince Wesley is… he’s requesting to fight in the melee. He is…quite drunk, my king.”
“He what!?”
Jodie lowered her forehead into her palm. Ciana smirked, while Petir let out an audible snicker. This was an awful look for the Seynards.
The bugles down in the arena began to play. It caught everyone off-guard. All eyes went down to the arena where Prince Wesley stumbled towards the herald with a cup of wine in his hand. He wore his chainmail suit, plate armour and a long cape with his family’s colours. His sword hung from the scabbard at his hip, and he held his helmet by his side. His messy hair blew in the hot breeze.
“What in the Moon Mother’s light does he think he is doing?!” Tobius spat.
The crowd mumbled to themselves, confused by what was happening.
Wesley handed his cup to a confused Ser Faron Colt, who took it much to the crowd’s amusement.
Ser Isec knelt before King Tobius. “My king, shall I remove him from the field? We cannot guarantee his safety down there.”
Tobius ignored the worried captain, curious to see what his son was up to.
Wesley appeared to whisper into the herald’s ear, struggling to keep his balance. The herald repeated what he said apprehensively. “Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, Prince Wesley Seynard is requesting to participate in his own Uniting Tourney!”
The crowd rumbled with adrenaline, making the stands shake. Tobius became infuriated but couldn’t even find the words to use, simply exhale and pounding his fist against his chair.
Wesley had broken far sooner than Jodie was expecting.
The herald continued with a smile. “And who, my prince, do you intend to duel against?”
Wesley glared out over to the stands and pointed. “Prince Petir Blacktree!” he shouted.
Cheers and claps were followed by mumbles. Jodie gasped, looking over at her challenged husband. This was not what she had planned.
“I wish to take you up on your offer from last night, brother,” Wesley said.
Petir stood up proudly and bowed to his challenger as a mark of acceptance. “Someone fetch me my armour and my weapon.”
Both the kings, Tobius and Emery, leapt to their feet, struggling to convince Petir to ignore the request.
“This is not a good idea,” Ser Isec said.
“Stop this at once!” Tobius shouted.
“Now, now, my king, is it not the right of the husband to fight at his Uniting Tourney? It is, after all, his wedding, and his celebrations,” Petir said.
“This is foolish!” King Emery said, blocking Petir’s path. “The man is clearly drunk. Do not make a fool of yourself, sit back down at once.”
“Father, it would be an embarrassment to our family to ignore such a request. I am a prince- I will do what I must. Fear not! It’s all just a bit of fun,” Petir said with a smirk.
Jodie knew it had nothing to do with honour or fun. The two princes had a long rivalry. Her husband only wanted to knock Wesley into the ground and make a fool of him. The last thing the man needed was another addition to his ego.
“Petir, please,” Jodie said, grabbing his arm as he was about to make his way down the stands. “Don’t fight him. Just leave him be.”
“What kind of man would I be if I refused?”
“An intelligent one.”
Petir smirked and kissed his wife’s cheek. He made his way down towards the arena. His servants began outfitting him in his armour.
Jodie sat back down next to Ciana, gritting her teeth with angst.
“This wasn’t what we planned,” Ciana whispered.
“No… no it wasn’t.”
Jodie ran through the scenario in her head. They had only planned to break Wesley down, so that the marriage to Ciana could be annulled and she would be free of her father’s matrimonial arrangement without hurting their family’s reputation.
But after last night, Jodie wondered what Wesley might reveal to Petir in his drunken state? Would he tell Petir the truth of their long-running affair?
Could this work out better than what we had initially planned? Will I be free as well?
Chapter 17 - Masks
Katryna Bower marched through the gardens of Castle Bower, heading for an overlook where the guards had informed her that she would find the diplomats from Ember. Her eyelids were still heavy like bricks, even after her breakfast with Aunt Rashel. Her head was fuzzy.
Be it mental or physical exhaustion, Katryna was as determined as ever to keep pushing forward, no matter how tired she felt.
Infinity Guardsmen were stationed at every few crossroads in the gardens. They stood tall, long spears by their sides, and almost perfectly still, aside from the bow they gave to Katryna as she walked by.
They finally seemed to be recognising her. Obviously, word has reached the rest of Castle Bower that I have arrived back in the capital.
One foot in front of the other. She passed through a grove of overhanging oak branches, flanked by rows of rocky outcrops, flowering bushes, and tropical plants. The floor was a carpet of grass, soil, crunchy leaves, dandelions, and wildflowers.
Leaves fell from above, floating down peacefully in a rain of red, orange, and green. The gardens were alive with rainbow butterflies, buzzing bees and iridescent dragonflies.
But Katryna did not have the time, or will, to admire
