Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

brYRA

Her blade skills were exceptional, a fact I couldn't help admire, as to her fortitude in the face of potential and gruesome defeat. Her cursed Mother must surely have faith in Tressya's abilities to have thrown her into such an unfair fight.

I shifted uncomfortably on the small log I'd selected, close to the weapons cart. As a lady's maid, my duties were confined to the castle, and while the queen was preoccupied, I was supposed to attend to other household tasks. Yet, no one could compel me to do anything.

Dressed in my maid's attire, standing as tall as a lot of the men present, I felt conspicuously out of place. Therefore, after observing Tressya's initial battle with a tall, sturdy man, I positioned myself at the fringe of the crowd of men, hoping to draw minimal attention to myself now that the fight had intensified.

I'd risked a lot leaving the castle and joining the growing crowd gathered to watch the queen fight, but I'd become increasingly restless locked behind walls. While Romelda's spell concealed my beast side, it didn't prevent me from turning into a full Huungardred if the need arose, and I was sure remaining cooped inside would weaken my restraint until I grew fangs and claws and sprouted hairs across my back.

From where I sat, I heard the whispers of astonishment from many of the young men to see their queen wielding a sword. It was uncommon because the men of the south cruelly cloistered their women and expected them to stay meek and idle, which made them frivolous and pathetic.

But not the young queen. Her fighting style was efficient and clever. It was obvious the Sistern were masters of the sword.

For a breath, I turned away with an unfamiliar feeling infecting my heart. It was the disease of jealousy. Here was the reason Tamas favored Tressya, likely the reason he'd surrendered his chance at bonding with another.

At a glance she looked feeble, reaching below my shoulders, with little muscle to keep her clothes fitting snug. But she was bold, and that alone was enough to catch a Razohan like Tamas's eye. Yet there was plenty more about her to make him fall. Her moves were perfectly executed, her cunning and agility unmatched by any man who stepped into the arena. Her tireless energy contested each strike and blow, sending many men bleeding to their knees. There was also the Razohan blood in her veins, which would give her the advantage over any two-legged male.

How could I not admire such a worthy fighter?

Compelled by the rising tension, the clash of swords, and the cries of shocked anguish from the male fighters, along with the onlookers' sympathetic and pained responses, I left my seat. I stretched to see over the men who had pushed their way in front of me, obstructing my view, to see Tressya's swift and decisive blow that ended the fight by sending her opponent to his knees, bleeding from too many places.

Tressya called an end to the match and offered her hand to the loser, which he initially hesitated to accept. Then, remembering himself, and who he was refusing, he slapped his hand in hers, but tried his hardest to scramble to his feet unaided. His exertion flushed his cheeks, but I was sure his embarrassment deepened the rosy hue.

I pushed a man in front of me aside, keen to hear what Tressya said to the inept man who'd misjudged the fight, underestimated Tressya as a worthy opponent, and squandered valuable strikes. He deserved to be expelled from the king's army, assuming that was his rank.

"Heya," grunted the burly man in front when I pushed him away.

I curled my lip as I stared at him. His eyes dropped to my booted feet then all the way up, then he smiled. "Well, little lady. Looks like you'd be a handful of fun."

Before he breathed another word, I twisted his arm behind his back and kicked his knees from under him. "Not the sort of fun you're looking for, I assure you," I spoke into his ear, then released him, pushing him forward to his knees and smirked when the men surrounding us mocked him.

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision, but I found it difficult to ignore brash insults from contemptible men who were beneath my notice. Unwilling to draw any more attention, I slipped from the crowd and headed back to my seat by the weapons wagon.

Now the fighting was finished, the crowd scattered, causing a ruckus as they departed, which meant I had to concentrate to discern Tressya from amongst the crowd. By familiarizing myself with the sound of her footsteps, I could distinguish her approach from others around me and knew she was heading in my direction. Anticipating she would return her own weapons, as the queen appeared to prefer handling most tasks herself, I'd strategically positioned myself near the weapons wagon.

Huungardred were supreme hunters, never making foolish mistakes, like revealing themselves to their prey. Yet, here I was, daring to leave the castle confines, watching her fight when I should be dusting the bannisters, or worse, sluicing her chamber pot.

The allure of the young queen made me forget I was the predator. This same queen who'd attempted to befriend her tall, clumsy lady's maid as she quietly went about her tasks, rebuffing the queen's overtures of friendship with mere mumbles of yes or no to any inquiries, even those that warranted a more elaborate response.

The truth of my coming to the arena was as complicated as my burgeoning complex and torturous emotions toward her. As a maid, I was privy to most of the gossip, so I knew the difficult task she faced convincing the noblemen to accept her as queen. And I shouldn't care that she had few to confide in, as far as I could see; the Salmun made my hairs prickle; the Mother made me want to grow claws.

While Huungardred craved their solitude, they were fiercely loyal to their kind. We considered all Huungardred our family and that meant we were never truly alone, and so I felt the queen's isolation acutely, which infuriated me.

The more I was in her presence, the more I witnessed her fortitude and her guile, but it wasn't the side of her I wanted to know. I should despise her, see her merely as a manipulative schemer, as shallow and greedy as the rest of her court. Instead, I saw her as an intelligent and brave woman battling for her rightful place in a realm that privileges men.

"Ryia!" she exclaimed.

Perhaps it hadn't been wise choosing a name so close to my own, but I feared forgetting anything else.

Looming behind her was the ever-present Salmun. Instinctively, I half-turned, shielding what would be the beast side of my face from their potential scrutiny. With their hoods drawn low over their faces, it was hard to know if they were watching us. However, it seemed likely, considering their sole reason for being there, Tressya, was standing right in front of me.

I curtseyed awkwardly, dipping my head and holding my tongue.

The queen's cursed Mother had yet to raise from her seat, and I spied Gusselan also present, seated with ample distance between her and the Mother.

"You escaped?" Tressya said, unbuckling her weapons belt. Her voice was good-humored, easing my discomfort. It was difficult standing so close to my target while grappling with admiration and guilt. Praise our ancestors, guilt . I should have no room for guilt in my heart—guilt for what I intended to do—but also a persistent and growing niggle of doubt. Why did I feel she wasn't meant to die?

I wasn't an augur, nor did I possess the inexplicable intuition that some Nazeen seemed to have, but I sensed that Tressya's role in all of this was more significant than Romelda had assumed. Was this how Tamas felt on meeting her? The reason he saved her? Bit her?

"I don't blame you," she continued, drawing her dagger from a separate belt. "I'd go crazy forced to stay indoors all day."

She seemed genuinely interested in making conversation with me; her supposed maid.

"I heard rumors you were battling with the army's best."

In mock horror, she said. "Spare us all, a woman with a blade."

Despite myself, I smiled.

"And you had to see for yourself if the rumor was true." She turned to me, holding out her arms. "Well, here I am." She spun in a circle, parading herself in front of me, opening herself up to my scrutiny without a care. Her pants and shirt were stained with smears of blood and dirt, evidence of a tumble or two, yet no more so than her opponents. The underarms of her shirt were drenched, as was her hair, with strands adhering to the beads of sweat on her forehead. The most striking feature, however, was the exhilaration in her eyes. That, coupled with her raw energy, gave me the impression she could spring for freedom into the trees at any moment.

I understood that feeling. Just looking at her roused the same desire in me, joining us in a wordless bond of kindred need.

"I hope you were impressed."

"You outranked every opponent. Though, to be fair, I believe all were frightened of hurting you."

"True. And that's the most frustrating thing about it."

"But only in the beginning. As the fight went on, they became distressed by your obvious skill, then humiliated once they realized no amount of effort would help them win. Then some became angry and others became vengeful, as is common when conceited men are humbled."

She quirked a smile. "You're very observant."

It seemed I'd lost control of my tongue. "Some were inept. I wonder why they've been given their place in the army. Some were sluggish, as though they'd woken late from their sleep." I should shut up before I accidentally revealed myself, but I couldn't seem to stop. A week of near silence, and my mouth was now loose, mostly because I was now on my favorite topic. "Most read your strategy wrong and were too quick to anger. They were arrogant and impatient and foolishly believed brute strength would win them a bout. I would rank two of those you fought mildly worthy of another fight."

She was staring at me, her mouth slightly ajar. I should've stopped at the start, but there was a twinkling mischief growing in her eyes.

Her laugh was like a cool wind fingering its way through your pelt during a hard run. She had a plain face, but I believed it would grow enduring the longer time spent with her.

"The outdoors has made you very chatty. I believe that's the most you've said to me since you arrived."

"You're queen." To explain my near mute responses.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm far more comfortable when I forget about that. You know, before they dressed me in this title, I was the king's blade."

"Oh." My surprise wasn't convincing because Tamas had shared that piece of knowledge.

The title King's Blade suited her better. I sensed she would slowly suffocate on the throne. I have the same intuition about Tamas, but sitting upon the throne in the north carries a different meaning than it does in the south. He would fare better in the north, where freedom to run through the wilds was still valued, even for those who ruled. However, Tamas would ascend to the Tarragonan throne. I felt sure he would lose a part of himself when he did.

She sighed, as if burdened by the memory that she was now queen. "You seem to know a great deal about sword play."

I wasn't ready for the change of direction in our conversation. A faint tingle of unease snaked inside my belly, signaling how perilously close the question came to triggering my admission. "I grew up surrounded by a lot of men. Though, they mostly liked to use their fists. Close blood ties to my…family would often visit and with them came their love of sword fighting. That's how I learned most of wh at I know."

She was looking at me with fresh eyes, as if looking beyond the tall maid with clumsy hands and seeing me for the first time.

You're such a fool. I should leave before I exposed myself, but hers was the first sincere smile I'd seen and genuine interest I'd felt since arriving at the castle.

"You sound fortunate in your family."

"Very."

"Do they live close?"

"No." This was dangerous. I shouldn't have seated myself where we'd run into each other, nor should I have stayed.

"Your current employment must be stifling after your adventurous childhood?"

"I'm deeply appreciative of what I've been given."

She glanced across at the Salmun, waiting a distance off to the side, then turned to the wagon, rummaging around inside. With her back to me, I couldn't see what she was doing.

Suddenly she spun, releasing a dagger that seemed to fly from no-where. In the second I caught the tip with my Huungardred reflexes, I realized my mistake.

"That's impressive," she said, easing out of her thrower's stance.

My heart spiked into a jagged beat. I glanced beyond her to the Salmun, relieved to see they were positioned in such a way, the wagon plus Tressya would have blocked their view. Tressya looked over her shoulder, following my gaze.

Seeing the Salmun remained like stone, she turned back to me. "I'd ask you to join my next fight, but I'm sure that will raise some eyebrows."

My mind was in such a panic, all I could think to do was escape. Rather than reply, I curtseyed, mumbled an apology, then tried to hurry away.

"It's customary to wait until you're dismissed."

I froze, taking in subtle breaths to calm myself. No one here was a match for a Huungardred, except the Salmun. I couldn't reveal myself.

"The dagger."

I glanced down, noticing it in my hand without having felt its weight.

Tressya held out her hand.

I returned it, averting my eyes as I assumed was expected of me, then waited in torturous silence. Finally, Tressya spoke. "I enjoyed our chat, Ryia. I look forward to a time when we can continue. You may go."

I felt her shrew gaze on me as I dashed away. And then I felt something else, a funny sensation, like small vibrations, sending ripples across my chest. I staggered, clutching a hand to my heart.

This was the disciple's curse. Tressya was suspicious. I found my feet, then doubled my pace, resisting the urge to bolt for the trees and instead headed back to the castle.

Romelda was a skilled witch. I could only hope her magic was powerful enough to bury my true nature beneath my disguise, sealing it from intruders.