Boyd glances away like a boy caught with his hand in the sweets. “No, Your Highness.”
“I’m not sure I believe that. Is your mother well?”
His eyes dart back to me. “She—she is.”
“And would she approve of such talk?”
The way he shrinks down tells me she would not. “No, Your Highness.”
I aim a single, upraised finger at him. “If I hear such talk from you again, I will bypass your superior and His Majesty and go directly to her. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
With that, I release them and pray there will be more trouble, because beneath my gown, my legs have begun trembling from the strain.
The guards rise, and after some collective embarrassment as they straighten their gear, the first guard clears his throat.
“Would you like to travel by carriage or litter, Your Highness?”
***
I lean my head against the carriage wall and try to think as we rumble down the road leading to The Pit.
Part of me is a little in awe of myself. I was so confident and clearheaded. I handled myself as well as any of my older sisters.
No, I don’t know that even Cassandra would manhandle her own guards, and when I think of that, the more cautious part of me rises up to wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
Who wouldn’t with an arrogant king demanding you stay in your room like a child?
I sigh. No, I must remove my emotions from this. I need to think clearly. I just revealed my power in the worst possible way to three of the king’s guards. That’s…not good. What would Mother say? She would look at me in that stern way of hers and tell me to take the bad and make something good of it.
At least Tilly didn’t see, I suppose. That’s good. She wisely opted to stay where she was told.
What am I saying? I can’t just stay where I’m told and trust my freedom to a fight.
I let out a groan and rub my forehead. Water isn’t meant to be wielded as a weapon. Water is peace; water is life. Using it otherwise has muddied my thoughts and given me a splitting headache. I take a long drink from one of my canteens. While I hadn’t needed the contents of either, additional water to wield is always comforting.
I wince as the carriage comes to a stop, jostling my pounding head. From outside comes a cheer loud enough to rattle my teeth.
The first guard, whom I’ve learned is called Fuller, appears at the open window. “My apologies,” he shouts over the din, “but I’m afraid we’ll have to walk from here, Your Highness.”
Boyd springs to the door and offers his hand. “Would you like us to fetch a sedan, Your Highness?”
I suspect his mother is a formidable woman.
“No, thank you,” I say before being forced to answer with a small shake of my head instead when another deafening cry goes up. Taking Boyd’s hand, I step down and look ahead.
We’re at the bottom of a great swell of sand, and swarming the top in both directions are hundreds—no,thousands—of people. Tents and merchant carts surround the throng, though everyone seems to be watching the fight right now. I have to stop myself from gaping like a yokel.
“They’ve all come to see the challenge?” I ask.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Boyd says before either of the other two can answer. He steadies me as the ground quakes beneath our feet.
“Please take me closer.”
He shoots a look at the older guard, the one they call Yarl. He’s frowning.
“Are you sure, Your Highness?” Yarl asks.
