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She looked at the missive, starting to curl at one corner. It blackened.
One more day and her fate would be sealed.
Her father called to her.
She got to her feet.
Chapter 31
The mêlée was afoot.
Friday’s dawn had broken upon an already bustling castle. Knights donned armor in the great hall in grim silence, as guests streamed across the green fields to fight the war-like game that would make some men rich, and turn others into paupers.
But in the near jousting field, closest to the keep, a private match was taking place. When it was over, Cassia would have a husband. And one of these men would have a barony.
The morning burned bright, as sunny and fresh on this, the last day of the tourney, as it had been on the first.
It was a beautiful day.
It was terrible.
The first two men lined up on either side of the arena, and her father announced the rules of his little jousting fiefdom, where all deferred to him.
“There will be three passes for each pair of combatants,” he called out. “All passes occur at a gallop. Points are awarded for contact and breakage. Three points for a break on the shield, two for a break on the body or arm, and one for a touch on the shield if it does not break. If either man is unhorsed, or the score is tied at the end of three passes, the fight moves to foot, with swords. Combat continues until one man yields…or is otherwise incapacitated.” He smiled. “The rounds are elimination. The final winner will take my daughter to bride and inherit the barony of Ware.”
There was scattered clapping from the spectators, but otherwise, everyone was silent. The fighting men were deadly serious, and Cassia was sick to her belly and heart.
Her father turned to her. “Drop a sleeve, daughter, and start the match.”
She extended her arm and dropped one precious sleeve on the dirt.
One by one, run by run, the men raced at each other and shattered their lances. There was nothing glorious about it. It was torture and hell, and to protect herself, she grew increasingly numb as the matches went on.
She decided she would be like Máel. Shut everything down and survive. It was the best she could hope for.
As each pair of men ran their matches, the field narrowed further, until only two knights remained. One was Sir Bennett. The other was a man she barely recognized; she thought she might have seen him spill wine on someone’s gown in a drunken stupor the night before the tourney began.
How could that have been less than a week ago? She’d lived an entire lifetime in those few days.
She dragged her attention back to the field. Sir Bennett bowed to her from the saddle, then reined around and cantered to his end of the field.
It took only two runs before the other man was knocked clear out of the saddle. Sir Bennett was the champion.
Her new husband.
Scattered clapping erupted along the railings. Her father stepped into the ring and clasped wrists with Sir Bennett.
“Cassia, come greet your betrothed,” he called out.
She closed her eyes and turned away, then heard a disturbance break out behind her in the jousting ring.
She paused and half-turned back to the field.
Chapter 32
Máel had spent all of the day Thursday and a goodly portion of the night searching for Odin.
He haunted the jousting grounds as the championships match was fought within. Then as the sun set, he stalked through the poverty-stricken warrens of Gracious Hill, the town attached to Rose Citadel.
