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The troll warriors stopped what they were doing and turned to face Rharreth and Melantha, resting their ax handles or spears on their shoulders or gently resting the tips of their swords in the sand of the floor.
“Shield brothers and sister, this is my wife, Queen Melantha. I know some of you have already met her, but she will be joining us more often from now on.” Rharreth steered Melantha deeper into the training area with a hand on her lower back. He halted in front of the first pair of troll warriors she did not know. “This is Darvek and Brynjar.”
Both of them were shorter than Rharreth and held their swords easily.
The last troll warrior swaggered forward. His battle-ax on his shoulder, he stood a few inches taller even than Rharreth. He grinned and thumped his chest. “I’m Drurvas, Rharreth’s shield brother and his cousin.”
“Cousin?” Melantha glanced between Rharreth and Drurvas. There was a resemblance. Why had Rharreth not told her he had more family than just his brother? She had assumed he was alone, now that Farrendel had killed his one remaining family member.
“On his father’s side. My father was his father’s younger brother. Of course, both of them were killed by your brother.” Drurvas still wore a smile, and it was hard to tell in his voice if he held any anger toward her for that or not.
“I am sorry for what the war between our kingdoms cost.” That sounded diplomatic enough, right? Melantha probably should get used to others throwing her brother’s kills in her face. While the trolls hated all elves, they had a particular hatred for Farrendel, thanks to the entire armies he had wiped out with his magic.
Healing that kind of rift might be beyond even her magic. She struggled to heal even her own problems with her brother.
“Thus the reason my cousin made the sacrifice to marry you.” Drurvas bobbed a bow in her direction.
That was definitely an insult, said through a smile as it was.
Rharreth gave her a gentle nudge toward the seating. “Melantha, please take a seat. I believe my cousin and I need to have a sparring match.”
Melantha hurried to the other side of the short wall and took a seat several rows up, hoping that was far enough away from the training area to avoid any flying weapons. Based on the growl to Rharreth’s voice, his match with Drurvas would be less than friendly.
The other troll warriors went back to sparring, though Melantha could see by the way they were giving Drurvas and Rharreth space that they too sensed the tension. Though, none of them interfered. Melantha got the sense that beating each other up in a training bout was probably the standard way shield brothers dealt with issues between them.
Rharreth drew his sword and faced Drurvas. Drurvas brandished his ax and smirked.
Then Drurvas swung his ax with a grunt, and Rharreth side-stepped, blocking with his sword.
After that, Melantha struggled to keep up with the pace of the fight. It looked like an indecipherable whirl of bodies and flashing steel to her. Spots of red soon peppered the fight, splashing onto the sand on the floor.
Melantha gripped her hands between her knees. Were practice fights supposed to involve this much blood? As long as Drurvas did not fully lop off one of Rharreth’s arms or legs—or head—Melantha could heal him. But a strange tightness twisted her stomach. As if she was worried about Rharreth.
Rharreth tumbled to the ground, Drurvas’s ax at his throat.
Drurvas put his boot on Rharreth’s chest. “Yield?”
“Yield.” Rharreth sighed, then he held out his free hand.
Drurvas removed his ax from near Rharreth’s chin, rested it on his shoulder again, then took Rharreth’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
Just like that, the tension was gone. Drurvas and Rharreth pounded each other on the back. While Drurvas returned to sparring with Darvek, Rharreth strode toward Melantha. His steps were steady, as if he were unconcerned with the blood running down one of his legs, one of his arms, and from a gash across his chest. The seamstresses and tailors must do a steady business here in Kostaria if this was common practice for the trolls.
Melantha stood and met him at the short wall, magic already dancing at her fingertips. She trailed her fingers over the wound in his upper arm. “Are sparring matches always so bloody?”
“Not always.” Rharreth shrugged, though he did not protest as she pressed her other hand over the slash across his chest. “But Drurvas likes to rub it in that he is the only one of my shield brothers and sister who can routinely trounce me. I can occasionally win a bout or two, but he was always the most talented of our shield band.”
Rharreth’s voice held something almost like pride. It was probably not the time for Melantha to admit to her misgivings about Drurvas. Perhaps she was just biased against him, now that she had watched him beat her husband in a sparring match.
She spread her magic through Rharreth, healing bruises and the gash in his leg.
Rharreth smirked, running his knuckles over her cheek. “I can see where having a healer for a wife is going to come in handy.”
“Just do not get your head chopped off. I cannot fix that.” Melantha stepped back, her heart pounding in an odd rhythm. What was this crackle filling the space between her and Rharreth?
He cleared his throat and also put a few more inches of space between them. He gestured toward the training area. “Would you like to learn?”
“Do you think I could?” Melantha glanced from Rharreth to the combat floor, her heart beating harder in her chest. She had thought she had given up the dream of being an elf warrior two hundred years ago when she had come into her magic. But ever since her discussion with Farrendel in the dungeon of Gror Grar, that old longing for somethingmorelingered.
