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Cassia eyed the warriors entering the field with a variety of weapons. “Best wait for the first few waves of contenders to weed themselves out, then challenge the winner.”
Hoyefe sat back to watch. “Excellent. I’ll observe their fighting styles in the meantime.”
The opening melees gave way to mounted challenges and duels, shedding defeated contenders with each passing hour. Noise and dust rose from the sweaty spectacle. The sun grew higher, and Cassia envisioned herself sitting naked in the snows of Orthros in an attempt to cool herself.
When a lean, flaxen-haired lord was the last on the field, awaiting his final challengers, Solia asked Cassia, “Who is that? He looks like a northerner.”
“Yes, that’s Lord Severin, from the border,” Cassia replied. “A strong ally during the Solstice Summit. He will support the contender for the throne who can promise him his people won’t starve.”
“If only every lord had such sensible priorities.” Kella’s gaze scanned the stands again, surely missing not a single blade or bladed look.
“It’s his father we should worry about,” Cassia warned. “Free Lord Severinus hates Hesperines and may have supported the heart hunter attack that nearly killed us all on our way to the Solstice Summit. Then he decided his son was more useful alive and voting on his behalf to overthrow Lucis. Fear of losing the old lord’s support is one reason Flavian will not allow a greater Hesperine presence at Patria.”
“Well,” Solia said, “you and Severin and I have something in common, then. Our fathers tried to murder us.”
Hoyefe considered Severin. “He looks like he needs someone to ease his burdens at the end of a long day. Do you know what flavor of comfort he prefers?”
Cassia petted Knight, who was panting in the warmth. “I’m not sure, but if anyone can find out, it is you, Hoyefe.”
“Drawing him out will be fun,” Hoyefe mused. “Time for me to begin the next act of our play, in which I play the conquering hero.”
“Remember, dear Lonesome,” Tuura added, “we are here to make allies, not make the shadowlanders fear an Imperial invasion.”
“I will make it clear I have no intention of invading Tenebra. As to not invading Lord Severin’s breeches, well, I make no such promises.”
Hoyefe made a show of kissing Solia’s handkerchief before striding onto the field to the crowd’s oohs and ahhs. He handed his luxurious Owia wrap to one of the squires, his linen under-robe displaying his muscular arms and legs. He whipped out his curved sword with a flourish, its golden hilt glinting in the sunlight. Solia gave an affectionate laugh at his display.
He paused to advise Flavian’s herald of his titles, and then the man announced, “Hoyefe of the Ashes, Gold Roster Master Fencer, Graduate with Honors from Imperial University’s School of Fine Arts, Lord of the Owia Homelands, shall fight as the champion of the mysterious lady in purple.”
He and Severin bowed to each other. There came a hush. Then Hoyefe made the first move, lightning-fast. Severin leapt to parry just in time, but Cassia knew he was already fighting a losing battle.
Hoyefe danced around the young lord, relentless and yet somehow teasing with his quick, nimble attacks. He got under Severin’s guard, murmuring in his ear. Then Severin danced back, fending him off.
Cassia studied Severin’s body language. There was anger there, but also interest. When the men’s swords locked, Severin let Hoyefe lean in a little too close, linger a little too long. She had never known this about her friend, but now suspected Hoyefe would be one of the best things that had ever happened to Severin.
At last, Hoyefe disarmed Severn and sent his Tenebran knightly sword spinning out of reach. Hoyefe held the point of his Owia blade up to Severin’s heart with an even more disarming smile. Severin looked back with drawn brows, his face ruddy and hair tousled, more animated than Cassia had ever seen him.
“Lord Hoyefe is the victor!” the herald declared.
Flavian rose from his seat. Cassia was already savoring the vision of Flavian on his ass in the dirt with Hoyefe laughing over him.
But Flavian gave her a sardonic smile. “Sir Benedict, First Knight of Segetia, will fight as my champion today.”
Cassia cursed under her breath. Flavian hadn’t taken the bait, only her advice. She was the one who had instructed him to remain neutral in royal tournaments. Her own rebellion played out before her eyes, mocking her.
Ben joined Hoyefe on the field and saluted, his face grim with determination. This was a far different battle than Flavian fighting to keep one small piece of his family’s vast lands. This was a knight fighting to become a lord—a knight who harbored a secret love for a lady above his station.
Ben was ready for Hoyefe’s first move, but even so, the Ashes’ fencer soon put the knight on the defensive. But Ben didn’t stay there. He pushed back with steady force.
Cassia barely understood and never enjoyed sword fights, and thought of tournaments as nothing more than an opportunity for men to stroke their own blades in public. But today was different. Solia, Kella, and Tuura’s commentary made the entire affair both understandable and entertaining.
Cassia wrapped her hand around her medallion, resisting the Ashes’ infections enthusiasm. Solia looked happier in this moment than she had at any of their family events in Orthros. Well, except her duels in the arena, of course.
When Ben’s sword landed in the dirt, the stands echoed with Tenebra’s groans of defeat. Cassia rose to her feet with her sister and the other Ashes, cheering in spite of her spinning head.
This was the part of the tournament that sent a thrill through her. The scandalized cries of the crowd. Flavian’s forced smile, his posture restless with suppressed anger. The knowledge that her moves on the board had helped Hoyefe steal a playing piece.
She had beaten Flavian today.
