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The bow released with a slight twang, silence reigning for a few seconds as I tried to follow the arrow’s progress and quickly lost it among the clouds. Then a plume of smoke erupted from just ahead of the tree line several hundred paces away, enough to be the result of a small bag of black powder igniting, no more. I hadn’t even been able to see the target, and he’d fucking hit it.
By the Blessed Five.
Parvan barked a laugh and stepped forward, clapping Elías on the shoulder before turning to me. He had the girl with the scar sitting on his shoulders, only a toddler now, and she clapped sticky hands together in delight.
“Seems the brandy is on you tonight, Your Highness,” Parvan told me with a grin.
-
Stifling the smile that threatened to break out from seeing my friends and family so happy in their own futures, I snuggled the pillow closer and inhaled Ren’s scent of citrus and saffron.
Ren, damn you, Nathanael. FindRen.
*
Chapter Nineteen
“And now for the final round of the thirteenth annual Quareh-Temar tournament!” a voice announced, accompanied by flaring trumpets. I was sitting in a spectator stand that looked much sturdier than the temporary ones hastily erected for the first tournament and Ren’s hand was resting on my thigh; warm and heavy and comforting.
This time, my urge to see his face was matched by a similar need of my future self, and I found myself turning my head to him. Strands of grey flecked Ren’s black hair where it was combed back neatly under his crown, but his eyes looked just the same, his grin holding familiar mischief.
“Sara, Sara, Sara!” the crowd chanted as one of the competitors stepped into the duelling ring. She was Quarehian, her forearms as thick as my head, and grinned up at us as she slid her huge sword from its sheath.
“And…Branimir!” The cheers for her opponent, a northern man of similar height and girth, were not as loud as those for Sara, but they still echoed around us from every corner of the crowd.
The two circled each other in the chewed-up dirt, their blades flashing in the sun.
Branimir moved first, the massive Temarian warrior swiping at Sara’s head in a move that had me convinced I was about to see someone executed in front of me…only for her to duck and spinunder it, carving a similar vicious slash at his legs. He danced away, laughing. The crowd howled its pleasure.
Lord González shot to his feet from the bench a row below us, blocking my view of the fight. He punched the air with clenched fists as if battling his own foe. “Get him, girl!”
“Sit down,” de Leon chided him. It seemed the pair would continue to argue even this far in the future. “You’re embarrassing yourself, old man.”
The other nobleman tsked, but did as asked. “Can’t a father show some pride? When Sara told me she was engaged last year, I feared that would put an end to her competing. And her job,” he added, twisting around to look up at us.
I heard Ren snort at my side. “Do you think I’d let my best guard leave me so easily?”
“It wasn’t up to you, darling,” I said, the words leaving my mouth without the ability to stop them. “But Sara never even asked to resign.”
Ren waved a dismissive hand in my periphery as though that were merely semantics.
“Still,” González said, beaming. “Married life hasn’t dulled her spark at all. Look at her!”
“Last time, you told me off forlooking,” Lord de Leon grouched good-naturedly, nudging the other man with his shoulder only to receive an elbow to the ribs in turn.
The two warriors battled flawlessly across the field, fighting with such harmony of movement that it was clear they’d faced each other many times before. They knew the other’s tricks, effortlessly dodging and parrying strikes that would have laid anyone else flat.
But a blade to the throat of Branimir a few minutes later declared the woman the winner. Her and her opponent approached our stand, their blades resheathed and hanging proudly at their hips as the crowd roared and cheered Quareh’s victory.
“Congratulations, Sara,” a woman said enthusiastically from my left, the familiar raspy voice leaving me in no doubt that it was my sister Mila. “What’s that, the third year in a row? You’re making me regret not entering myself into the tournament now, if only for the opportunity to spar with you.”
Sara bowed. “You only need ask, Commander Princess. It would be my honour to lose to a warrior as great as you.”
“I suppose you expect a pay rise now?” Ren asked from my other side.
Sara’s smile quirked. “Not at all, my king.”
“Good,” he said. “You just got one.”
