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Kenrik wiggled his brows at me.
I smiled.
With the body heat in the room, most of the men had shed their shirts. The ladies blushed and tried not to stare at them directly. Most of them whispered to each other behind cupped hands while they batted their eyelashes.
Kelyn was sparring with another man. He called a halt to his match. “Ladies, I propose some encouragement for these hardworking soldiers. They’ve been sparring all afternoon, and their energy is flagging. Who will offer a token to the winner of the next match between Gobrwy and Trevis?”
Gobrwy—a brawny, dark-haired man—and Trevis—a broad-shouldered blond—stepped forward and bowed.
A few ladies reddened. Lady Daere stepped forward and waved an embroidered handkerchief.
“Wonderful,” Kelyn exclaimed. “Men…” Gobrwy and Trevis crouched at the ready. “Begin!”
The two men grappled with each other. Ladies gasped and cheered. The other men called out good-natured jeers. I noticed where Gobrwy faltered, Trevis advanced. Gobrwy would be down in…
“Match!” Kelyn yelled.
Trevis pulled Gobrwy off the floor and clapped him on the back. Lady Daere stepped forward and held out her handkerchief. Trevis took it, but not before kissing Lady Daere solidly on the hand. His eyes caught hers. Apparently he had a lot of motivation for winning his match.
The games continued. The supper hour drew near, and the men were going to break when someone called out. “Prince Kelyn and Prince Kenrik have yet to spar. One final match!”
Everyone clapped. A few whistles pierced the ruckus.
The soldier turned to me. “Lady Niawen, will you offer a token to the winner?”
The blood drained from my face, I was sure. Kelyn grinned at me, and Kenrik was busy studying his nails, pretending he wasn’t keen on the idea.
This is not good. Not good. “But of course.” I pulled out my handkerchief. Every muscle in my torso tightened. Kenrik was the stronger fighter. Of that, I had no doubt. Kelyn fought with greater intensity, but his advances were sloppy. I didn’t know how many people knew of their affections for me, but forcing them together wouldn’t end well. And their brawl would reveal everything. At least to me. I didn’t want to watch. I didn’t want to see their emerging emotions. I couldn’t stand by as they fought for me.
“You’re not winning,” Kelyn whispered to Kenrik. No one could hear Kelyn’s words but me.
“Remember, I always win the joust. I beat you at swords and javelins.” Kenrik stretched his shoulder by pulling his arm across his chest. “This will be easy.”
“Don’t overestimate your skill.”
They crouched.
I clenched my fist by my side.
“Begin!”
Kelyn rushed his brother and slammed into him. Kenrik locked them together as his feet slid across the floor, but then he weaseled away.
After whirling around, Kelyn caught Kenrik’s incoming fist. Kenrik retaliated by swiping Kelyn’s leg out from under him.
He fell on his back but rolled to the side before he was pinned.
“It’s just like you to sweep in and knock your opponent off his feet,” Kelyn hissed.
“You have to pay attention to the subtle indicators of my next move.”
Kenrik meant this as a challenge. He plotted his next move with me daily. Kelyn was well aware of the traipsing about Kenrik and I did—because one of the maids had complained about busted pillows.
Kenrik slammed his shoulder into Kelyn’s chest. “You’re too busy planning your next attack to think about what your opponent’s doing. First rule, observe. Know your opponent before you strike.”
“You never give subtle indicators.” Kelyn tried wrapping his leg around Kenrik’s to throw off his balance. “You sweep in as if it’s life or death.”
“It often is.” Kenrik drove his fist into Kelyn’s stomach.
