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A challenge was called out that Melantha could only vaguely hear, and Drurvas stood up, giving an answering shout. After shucking his shirt and dropping it onto his bench, he strode down the last two benches, then hopped into the arena, swinging his battle-ax as easily as if it were made of air instead of iron.
His opponent’s grin slipped a little bit, as if realizing that he might have miscalculated in challenging Drurvas. Perhaps he had thought he would gain honor in a well-earned defeat against one of Kostaria’s best warriors.
With a yell, the challenger charged, his sword raised.
Almost carelessly, Drurvas batted aside the sword’s swing with such force that it knocked the sword from the other troll’s hand, then kicked his opponent in the knee, sending him to the ground. Drurvas put his battle-ax to the kneeling troll’s neck almost lazily. “Yield.”
The challenger swallowed. “I yield.”
When Drurvas lifted his ax, the defeated troll scrambled on his hands and knees to retrieve his sword, as if he did not dare take the time to so much as stand, then he half-crawled, half-ran from the combat arena.
If an honorable defeat had been his goal, then he had failed. Even Melantha could see that, and she was only just learning the troll customs when it came to honor.
Drurvas strolled to the center of the arena, his ax resting on his shoulder. He turned, his gaze focusing on Melantha.
Her breath caught in her throat. She could not be challenged, could she? She was not a warrior, even if she had been training. If Drurvas had made short work of that troll warrior, then he would humiliate Melantha.
Surely he would not do that. He was Rharreth’s cousin and shield brother. To humiliate Melantha would humiliate Rharreth.
Drurvas’s mouth tipped into a smirk, as if to remind Melantha of what he could have done, before his gaze swiveled to Rharreth. “I challenge King Rharreth.”
A hush fell around the arena. All eyes turned to stare at Rharreth and Melantha.
Melantha tensed. Drurvas had crossed a line, though she did not know what it had been.
Beside her, Rharreth stiffened, but his face remained impassive. A long, deadly silence stretched before he pushed to his feet. If anything, the hush deepened with the sign of his acceptance of the challenge.
He unbuckled his black leather vest and dropped it to his seat. His dark blue shirt followed a moment later.
Melantha caught her breath as he turned to her, the muscles in his arms and chest flexing as he took the antler crown from his head and held it out to her. “Guard this for me, milady.”
She took the crown, clutching it tightly. Were her ears burning? Her whole face felt hot, and she was not sure where to look, whether at her hands or at Rharreth’s very muscled, very near chest.
Swallowing, she tried to think of something to say. This seemed like a moment she should say something bold and regal, as a queen of the trolls ought.
Instead, Rharreth turned away and marched down into the arena while she sat there mutely, the tips of her ears blushing red as if she were a young girl instead of a queen.
Rharreth drew his sword, swinging it easily as if unworried about facing one of the few trolls who could match his fighting skill.
If this had been a contest of magic, Rharreth would have trounced Drurvas. Magic was banned for these bouts, and that meant all Rharreth had were his sword and his fighting skills.
Sitting behind Rharreth’s empty seat, Zavni leaned forward, his face more tight and serious than Melantha had ever seen. He put his mouth close to Melantha’s ear. “It is considered dishonorable to challenge the king. He is above such bouts. Nor should Drurvas have challenged him, as a shield brother.”
This was wrong, and all the trolls sitting around there knew it. Now Melantha knew it too.
Her fingers tightened around the antler crown. What was Drurvas thinking?
Down below in the arena, Drurvas swung his ax with a grunt. Rharreth parried aside the ax and dodged to the side.
“Does he mean to humiliate Rharreth?” Melantha whispered back, though she kept her eyes glued to the fight in the arena.
“It is because of you.” Vriska’s voice hissed in Melantha’s ear. “You are no warrior. You cannot fight at our king’s side. You make our king weak, and Drurvas is showing that.”
“Vriska.” Zavni’s tone cut sharp. “You must not speak to our queen that way.”
Melantha stiffened and half-turned in her seat, trying to watch the fight while keeping Zavni and Vriska in her line of sight.
“Even if it is true? You know it. I know it. Even Rharreth knows it.” Vriska’s mouth curled as she glared at Melantha.
