Chapter Nineteen

Though the events continued on, with the knights hopefully taking breaks between them, many in the crowd wandered off around the middle of the day in search of a meal. In the case of those in the king’s box, a shade and a table were set up while most in the box took the time to visit with others in the crowd, or, as Byr Falnya did, visit with the knights themselves.

Later in the day, Domvoda would be expected to tour some of the events that were less viewable from the box, but for the moment, the king was surrounded by the Lorilofts. Fox almost felt pity.

But he was not in a pitying mood. He was hot and damp in unattractive ways, slightly drunk, and still too upset to eat, although food might have done wonders for his stomach. He did consider finding a healer and asking for Byr Din’s recommended tea, but the cause of his troubles was not illness and would return in an hour or so when he was forced to observe more of the tournament and Conall being nearly injured or injuring some of his closest friends.

Domvoda’s words should not have lingered in his thoughts. But whyever Domvoda had said them, they weren’t untrue. Conall was more than capable of acting quickly to do what he felt needed to be done. Ruthless did not mean cruel, but it did carry a hardness with it. The knights probably all understood that but Fox was soft, as the knights themselves and even the king seemed to think.

Fox kept his shade up to keep his face from turning any pinker and walked without destination to burn away some of his nerves and keep his mind occupied with something other than Conall.

Then he heard his name and turned around and Conall was there.

Fox tipped his shade back to let him look upon Conall unimpeded. Conall was in a simple undershirt and breeches, as if between bouts he had decided to undress and either quickly bathe or just douse himself with water. Which was probably exactly what he had done. His shirt stuck to his chest and the water droplets only made him look warmer and brighter. If he had been hurt, he stood tall and showed no signs of it.

“You have been in a strenuous event,” Fox heard himself complaining, although his voice was weak and high so the words held no sting, “shouldn’t you be resting or some such thing?”

Then he recalled himself and where he was and twisted around to look for byr, Potentials, or kings.

“Are you all right?”

The low question brought Fox’s attention back to Conall and kept it there. Conall’s gaze was dark and serious.

“What?” Fox raised the shade as his cheeks heated. “Me? You’re the one who’s been doing dangerous things.”

“Dangerous…?” Conall echoed, then waved the word away as if it didn’t matter. “Fox, I’m asking if you are all right.”

Fox considered Conall’s effortless beauty for another moment before wrinkling his nose. “Do I look that awful?”

“You are the most stunning person to sit in that box,” Conall answered, no less serious than he had been from the start. “And I’m sure I’m not the only one to appreciate the sight of you.”

Fox didn’t want to go anywhere near that subject and found himself staring at Conall’s sloped shoulder. “As though you aren’t the ideal to so many of those you’ve defeated today,” he scoffed lightly, going for flirtatious although still not able to look Conall in the eye. “Are you going to be out here with them tonight? You might find yourself propositioned.”

There was a hint of shadowing beneath Conall’s damp shirt fabric, a bruise already darkening. That was the reason Fox frowned. There was no other reason he should.

Conall shook his head. “No one will be propositioning me. But I will be out here tonight,” he admitted on a small exhale. “I should have said.”

Fox lifted his chin to airily wonder why Conall would need to explain himself to his temporary bed partner but caught himself in time. He had made a fool of himself already today.

“You’ll probably be too battered to get back by that point,” he said instead.

“Fox,” Conall tried to interrupt.

“And in this heat? You’ll be exhausted before midafternoon.” Fox didn’t know what his tone was or why he kept speaking. He lowered the shade to keep their eyes from meeting. “A ridiculous competition,” he continued, blurting nonsense he couldn’t even blame on the wine. “It’s not as if anyone here is really using it to endear themselves to their….” He trailed off when Conall lifted the shade with one finger to look directly at him. He insisted on staring at Fox so seriously, as though he was worried about Fox when Fox was the one who had reason to… well. Fox pulled in a breath to clear his head. “You were incredible they tell me.”

Theymeaning Domvoda but Fox didn’t voice that.

“Did they?” Conall asked, sharp on that word as if he could guess who had. Domvoda had sat Fox next to him as he had not done ever before. It was not a difficult guess to make.

“The king acknowledges your skill,” Fox revealed quietly, wanting to soothe the mountain despite his own churning stomach. “As do most. As do I, though I can’t bear to watch.” Conall dropped his shoulders and leaned closer upon hearing that, concerned for Fox, and Fox couldn’t have that. Not there. Maybe not ever. It was too much. Too lovely, how Conall always managed to be. “I know there is work, effort, and art involved, enough to make it beautiful to others. But to me, it’s brutal. Which makes it even stranger that you knights love your fancies about wearing favors while pummeling each other. I hardly think a favor would affect what will happen to you. What is a lock of hair against that sort of force?” He looked up as he said it, wanting to see Conall’s eyes widen before Conall glanced away. Fox’s heart thumped against his ribs. He ignored it. “Foxes are the ones who are supposed to be thieves.”

Conall glanced to him, then to the side, then faced Fox with his shoulders back once again. He slipped a hand to the waist of his breeches, and if he had tucked away the lock of Fox’s hair into some hidden pocket, Fox didn’t want to see it removed.

He reached out, stopping short of touching Conall’s arm. “I doubt you’d need any kind of favor. Not with your talents,” he continued, as though Conall wasn’t wearing a stolen favor they were talking around. “Which is part of the reason it wouldn’t have occurred to me to give you one.”

Conall’s voice was rough. “I think the prize you did offer is a greater motivation to win.”

Fox squeezed the handle of his shade. Being placed in the king’s box with Domvoda and the Potentials had driven last night’s rash promise from his mind. “Ah,” he murmured, meaning absolutely nothing, burning despite the shade above him. “And yet?” Conall had taken the lock of hair. Maybe he had only wanted the possibility of good fortune, but he had still done it.

Conall replied, “Perhaps I took it because it was lovely and I didn’t want to think of it being discarded,” and Fox leaned forward. He was seconds away from touching Conall when a knight passed behind Conall and returned Fox to his senses.

Fox looked down. He fussed with his doublet until the other knight was gone, then tugged a length of berry-red ribbon from inside his sleeve and held it out. “You forgot this.” Conall took it and turned it over in his hand to let it pool in his palm. Fox couldn’t look away. No one had ever asked him for such a thing. Not that Conall had asked, but the sight was still pretty. “Afraid of me?” Fox was staring and if Conall looked up, he would see. Fox tried to restrain himself, to sound less hungry. “I can’t possibly be worse than every giant with a club or sword at this tournament out to knock down the Dragonslayer.”

Conall wrapped part of the ribbon loosely around one finger. Fox had a wild urge to tie it in a bow and leave the ends to trail down to Conall’s wrist.

“Fox,” Conall began slowly, drawing Fox’s eyes up, “would you grant me your favor?”

By what Fox knew of the traditions around favor-giving, Conall should have asked before taking one. Which meant he should have woken Fox up before he’d left. Fox would have been confused but allowed it, and probably kissed him, and that was so much better than how Fox’s day had actually gone that Fox pushed the fantasy away so he wouldn’t scream about it.

“You should fear me,” he pressed on, breathing fast and knowing Conall would notice, “because now I am going to take something of yours, just you wait.”

“Do as you please, Fox,” Conall agreed softly, “but consider perhaps that you already have.”

Conall was ruthless, Fox reminded himself. He easily levelled opponents far greater than Fox. Fox could not be blamed for his pounding heart and trembling limbs.

“There is another part to the granting of favors,” Fox’s voice went still higher. That other part involved Fox placing the favor on Conall and then, for some, bestowing a kiss.

“I wouldn’t ask you to risk yourself.” Conall probably thought his gentle voice would soothe Fox’s worries.

Fox continued to shake, not even sure why he was so wound up except Conall’s gaze would not leave him. “Keep it close,” he instructed. “That will do. And try not to get too grievously injured.”

Conall bowed his head as he would have for the king.

Fox exhaled. That was shaky too. “Domvoda will likely call me back to his side for the rest of the day.”

Conall bowed his head in another nod. His regard was the sun.

Fox could hardly breathe. “So. I will owe you that kiss then.”

It got him a hint of a smile. “Another prize.”

“Another victory,” Fox returned with bite. “You like those.”

Agitation had him showing his teeth and the thing that might have calmed him was impossible in that moment.

He must have lowered the shade again. Conall lightly pushed it up, leaving Fox with no shield whatsoever. The end of the ribbon dangled before Fox’s eyes.

Conall was gentle. “You don’t need to worry so, Fox.”

Fox was not gentled. “When in the history of anyone worrying has being told not to worry done anything?”

Conall stepped in, bringing the two of them dangerously close, Fox’s shade tipped up even higher to accommodate him. “I meant that your energies would be better spent elsewhere. You have your own battles to focus on today.” A line marred Conall’s brow. “Unless I imagine them.”

Fox looked past the costly ribbon of berry-red satin to Conall’s face. Conall wondered if Fox had wanted to sit at Domvoda’s side. Admittedly, last year Fox would have fought to sit there and been smugly pleased about it. The situation was different now, obviously. Or not so obviously.

Fox had brought Conall a favor, yet Conall thought Fox wanting Domvoda’s attention a possibility, so Fox supposed it was. Domvoda had looked at Fox with desire. Fox could press that for whatever it was worth. He stared at Conall instead, feeling a frown grow when Conall watched Fox in return, as expressionless as he was at court.

Fox reached for the ribbon to snatch it back only for Conall to raise his hand to keep it from him.

Fox pulled himself up, draping his tail elegantly over his elbow and shifting the shade to keep half of his hot face in shadow. “Keep it then,” he told Conall as though such ribbons weren’t expensive and he hadn’t debated giving up this one. “Maybe favors do protect knights. I certainly don’t know how the world works. The Fox isn’t learned or prone to mysticism. He’s just a musician good for bedding a few times, both the king and the Dragonslayer think so.”

The handle of the shade was seized and the shade tipped out of the way. Fox had no time to dwell on this before an arm was around his back and he was hauled up against Conall’s chest and kissed. He had a moment of shuddering relief before the heat left him reeling. Conall was fierce, taking Fox’s mouth as he should have that morning before leaving Fox alone in the dark, and then almost immediately softening to try to soothe Fox’s whimpered complaints with sweeter, slower kisses, one after another.

Fox barely had a second to finally register that anyone could find them as they were and then Conall set him back on his feet. Fox stared up at him, licking his lips, much weaker in the knees than he’d been a moment ago. Conall tucked the ribbon away and watched Fox wobble and struggle to raise the shade back up.

“I did not like seeing you there at his side,” Conall said, voice hoarse. “Does that make you feel better?”

Fox slowly shook his head.

“I worried for you,” Conall added as though it was torn from him. “But I also did not like it. You have to know why.”

A shiver went through Fox. Domvoda had already hinted several times that he suspected or had heard something of how Fox and Conall had grown closer. He might even have taunted Conall with it today. Conall had claimed that didn’t worry him, but it must. Of course it must. No other reason made sense.

“I should return.” Fox wet his lips one more time, wondering if they looked as kiss-stung as they felt. “I should go,” he said again. He would do something foolish if he didn’t, like leap back into Conall’s arms.

He moved away without looking for anyone in his path, and walked quickly to let that explain his flushed cheeks and heaving chest when he returned to the king’s party.

“Sit down before you faint,” one of the older knights ordered gruffly, gesturing for Fox to rest next to him and sparing Fox from having to fret over taking the empty place by Domvoda.

“The heat,” the knight across from him remarked wisely.

“He’s a delicate thing.” The first knight might have disapproved or might have liked a delicate thing at his side, Fox couldn’t have said, busy accepting the water he was given and drinking it without looking up.

The snickering from another part of the table was good, even though it was at Fox’s expense, since it meant no one thought Fox was off-balance from a kiss and a few roughly spoken words. He left the Lorilofts to their mirth and focused on slow sips of cooling water and the murmur of conversation at the rest of the table.

“Drashnal’s move was so unexpected, that I….”

“I fear she’s upset.” Byr Falnya, facing one of his relatives, sighed. “I thought it was about the judgment she received earlier, which was more than fair. But her mood is actually about some other knight practically kicking her out of bed this morning.”

“Tournament affairs,” the knight across from Fox remarked, apparently noticing that Fox had been listening.

It made the knight next to Fox snort a laugh. “There’s always a few who get too involved.”

“The hurt shouldn’t last long,” the second knight was quick to reassure Fox, as if Fox were visibly upset. “It’s a few days of ease and fun. Nothing to risk a heart on.”