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“You can reject the challenge since you’re still a prisoner, though apparently word of our training and the Keeper’s prophecy is spreading. I think she wants to claim the fame you’ve already begun amassing for herself.” He spoke, rising from the bed to start dressing in the clean new clothes that had been laid out, as if he was certain of my response before I was.
“And you think I should take the challenge.” I point out, it not really being a question.
“Definitely,” he said with a wolfish grin.
“Because you’re bored? Or because you want me dead?” I ask, ignoring Mara’s wince, and the questions it raised.
“My boredom is a terrible thing, you have the right of it Nettle. But if I told you who I thought would win, it might change the outcome. So tell me, do you want to beat this imposter to reclaim the braid you apparently mourned? Or hide behind that collar you claim to hate?” He offered my freshly oiled leathers on an outstretched hand..
“It’s not like I can just reattach it once I have it again. Or do one of you have some other power I’m unaware of?” I hedged, the idea of my braid’s return a fantasy I couldn’t indulge in only to be disappointed.
“Our herbalist has the skill to restore certain things that have been stolen, though it is limited to smaller items. It is definitely possible.” The Captain said, tossing my boots at me one by one, followed by a sack of clothes. All of them aimed purposely at my head.
“Fine, if you're done trying to break my nose then send my acceptance.” I peeled the covers back and began to dress as the Captain whooped before rushing back out the door.
“You sure about this Nettle?” Mara asked softly.
“Of course, I might not be able to beat you or Ravensford, but I’m a vampire slayer. It’s my job to bring justice to those that would abuse their strength to terrorize the weak.” I spoke calmly, refusing to ask if it was a fight she thought I would win. He was right, for whatever reason knowing their opinion felt like it could skew my confidence.
“Alright, then you’d better win. You’d better win so we can finally trade truths and maybe if there’s one worth hearing I’ll remove that collar.” She spoke as if it wasn’t an impossible idea to be trusted with my freedom and her trust so soon, with so little offered in return.
“You can’t mean that,” I argued, fumbling the tunics ties in shock. I’d not given an oath, or shown any confidence in following her. It had been a pathetic show of doubt, more doubt than I’d ever admitted to feeling in my life.
She stood, her shadows falling off of her figure to leave her bare as she approached. It felt like a trick, like a final distraction before she did something to injure me in some way. Instead of stabbing me in the back, or telling me she’d never set me free she bent down. Taking the ties in her hands and lacing them slowly, gently.
“I mean it.” The mark stayed cool. She really did. But how? What could I have done to change her mind? Her fingers strayed upwards to trace the collar fondly.
“Unless of course you’d like to keep it on? I have to admit I do love the way it looks on your slender neck. But then, if you did keep it on, I’d want it to mean something else.” She looked at me with heat in her gaze.
“What else could it mean except I’m your prisoner?” I asked, my heart racing at her nearness, or at the idea of freedom, rather.
“It could mean you’ve given yourself to me? That you accept you’re mine, and that you claim me in return.” She spoke the words full of hope, as if they meant something I couldn’t quite grasp. I shook my head, confused about how that was different from being her prisoner.
“I can’t. I just… I can’t.” I said, uncertain how I’d bring myself to kill her but still certain I’d do what was needed to save my people. But maybe… maybe if I had my freedom I could find another way. I could justify the growing need to protect and care for the person in front of me, even if it made my stomach drop and my head spin to admit it.
“I understand.” She said stepping back, my leathers and clothes all perfectly in place thanks to her. She kept her face perfectly blank again as she said, “Just don’t die, you have your freedom to look forward to. And you’re too valuable… by which I mean we might need to sell you yet Slayer.” She laughed flatly, walking away as the shadows gathered again to clothe her.
Just then Ravensford reappeared, bursting through the door like an over eager puppy.
“The Challenge is on!”
Eighteen
Jessa’s long red hair fell down her leathers like liquid flame. Behind her were thirty vampires of varied ages. Most of them were in hose and tunics, and a few in breeches. They entered the ground tentatively, all looking at her. She nodded to the Captain before signaling the others to ring the courtyard. As she turned, however, I saw a familiar flash of silver in her belt. My braid. Not just my braid, but the thorns as well, still intertwined and set into the dark leather handle of a whip.
Ravensford entered the center of the Yard, hands outstretched as if to gather the attention of those still gathering to watch.
“Lieutenant Jessa has issued an unprecedented death match to the Mistress’ captive, Nettle. Nettle has accepted the challenge, despite the protection offered her by the Mistress, as is her right. The rules are simple, the loser is the first to die or cry mercy. If you cry mercy, your opponent has the right to offer you terms on which you must agree to under oath or die by their hand. Are the terms heard and accepted?” He roared, egging on the crowd that now held humans and vampires alike. All, I noted, were intermingled without fear or distaste. Another tally in Mara’s favor.
“I accept these terms!” Jessa shouted, pricking her finger on a fang and letting a drop of her blood mix with the ground.The squeaking of bats transformed to human shouts as vampires flew in to join the crowd.
“And you Nettle?” Ravensford turned to me, chest heaving as if he too were experiencing the adrenaline coursing through me.
“I would accept but have no fang or weapon to draw my blood. Is she too cowardly to fight an equally armed warrior? Or was her hope to find a cowering captive unable to fight, except with feeble human fists?” I yell out, matching the crowds energy.
“I could destroy you no matter your weapon, human!… Or should I say, Slayer?!” The crowd divided then, some falling silent with shock while the others shouted their outrage.
Jessa was taking no chances for me to walk away alive, trying to turn the crowd in her favor. It was a simple enough strategy, one I’d been desensitized to by training in full view of men that couldn’t believe a woman would be able to best them. It was predictable, and comfortable, so I had no issue calling Jessa’s bluff.
