"Since about a month ago. First time I've used it outside of practice, though." He shoved his sword into its sheath. "Damned useful."
Cimar just shook his head, too impressed to form words. Lee really was shaping up to be a mage-knight of legend. He'd leave Cimar in the dust one day, and Cimar couldn't wait to see it. "Come on, let's go find your lovers."
Lee rushed ahead of him into the inn, magic gleaming at his fingertips—but if there had been any mercenaries lingering inside, they'd opted for a strategic retreat. Cimar motioned he'd take care of sorting out any lingering problems that might be around, and Lee continued on through the dining room through a door in the back.
Sighing, sheathing his sword and drawing a knife instead, better to work with in the confined space, Cimar started at the top and worked his way down, ensuring no threats remained.
When that was done, he went back outside and secured two of the mercenaries for questioning. By the time Lee reappeared, he'd also secured a cart and had his horse brought, and Lee's from the stable.
The happy greeting died on his lips, though, as he took in Lee's tear-stained eyes and the anguish cutting deep lines into his young face. "Lee, what's wrong?"
Lee swallowed, hands curling and uncurling at his sides as he tried to calm himself. "It's what you thought: they took Everard and Odilia hostage, kept Odilia locked away in a storage room. Told Everard to reveal me when I showed up. Everard managed to convey a message to the bartender so I'd come to no harm. They'd intended to kill me to cripple you, make it look like a bar brawl gone wrong."
"Are they all right?"
"They're fine," Lee said, and looked ready to cry again. "Not willing to 'put up with this sort of thing' a second time, though."
Fury filled Cimar, but he tamped it down. Lee didn't need anger right now. He needed comfort. "I'm sorry, Lee. I know you cared deeply for them. It's unfortunate they proved unworthy of your affections."
Lee nodded but didn't speak.
Cimar wished he could do something, anything, to take his pain away. Only time could ease such wounds, though. "Head back with the cart; I'll follow shortly." When Lee frowned, Cimar added, "I want to pay for damages and such. I won't do or say anything untoward."
Though Lee clearly didn't believe him, he also looked like he wanted desperately to be as far away from the Gold Cock as possible. He nodded and all but ran for his horse.
Once Cimar was certain he had control of his temper, he strode into the inn and back into the dining room, where he predictably found those he sought. "Master Everard? Mistress Odilia?" He removed one of his gauntlets and set it on the table that stood between him and the couple.
They stiffened, staring fearfully, and Everard tentatively said, "Yes, Sir Knight?"
"It's Cimar, but I think you know that," Cimar replied. He reached into the purse in the pouch at the small of his back and withdrew three coins, slapping them on the table. "To cover damages to your home and business."
"I— Thank you, Sir Cimar. That is most gracious," Everard replied quietly, not quite looking at him.
Odilia tentatively met his gaze, but immediately dropped her eyes. "Is Lee all right?"
"Sir Leonine," Cimar snapped, causing them both to look up. "The formal knighting won't take place until my challenge is concluded, but he was granted his spurs by Princess Korena just a few days ago. You'll address him properly, unless you've some reason to speak so informally of him."
Everard flinched. "Apologies, my lord. We did not mean to speak so rudely."
Cimar withdrew his hand and restored his gauntlet. "He risked a great deal for you today, you know. Not to belittle your efforts. What you did to save him—that was noble and brave of you, worthy of any ballad. So I don't understand why now you've spurned him. He risked quite literally everything for you. If we had been wrong in our suppositions, if the bartender had told the truth and we'd misjudged the situation… he would have lost those newly won spurs. He's been studying to be a knight since he was a child of ten. That's fourteen years—and he's won his spurs years earlier than most do. All of that, he risked to save you, and in return you spit in his face and leave him with a broken heart. But I promised him I'd not lash out at you, so this is where I stop. So far as I'm concerned, you've only proved you were never worthy of him. Good day, good sir, gentle lady."
He turned neatly on his heel and strode out, mounting his horse and riding off toward the castle, where his day was probably only about to get longer and uglier. He'd had enough of Tekker and Grayne's scheming and cheating. This was the last straw.
The challenge would end tonight, one way or another.
CHAPTER NINE
Davrin clapped along with everyone else as the jugglers finished their performance and signaled a servant for more wine as it faded off. Beside him, beautiful and imperious, Korena already looked more like a queen than a princess, while on her left His Majesty looked like a slovenly drunk who'd sat at the wrong table.
It only took skimming the room to see he was not the only one with that impression.
On His Majesty's other side, Tekker was speaking to him in low tones. Try as he might, Davrin could catch none of it. Neither could Korena, though it was clear she was doing all she could without tipping into drawing attention.
Whatever their latest scheme, Davrin would not let it succeed. A few more days and the final challenge would be called, and this whole affair would be behind them. Tekker and Grayne would be neutered of all their power; Ballior would be able to rest in peace; Davrin could focus on his pending marriage and his new relationship with Cimar.
Hopefully, he'd see Cimar later that evening.
Thanking the servant for the wine, he sipped at it and then set the cup aside. "What do you think—" he stopped, along with everyone else in the crowded great hall, as the main doors were shoved open, letting in a blast of frigid air. Normally, the doors were kept closed, only a smaller one cut into one of the big ones used.
Davrin shot to his feet as Cimar strode into the room, dressed in full armor and so angry Davrin half-expected his armor to shoot sparks. Behind him came Leonine, dragging along two men bound heavily in chains, and behind them were more knights wearing the tunic of the royal guard.
"Cimar, are you all right? Sir Leonine?"
"We're fine," Cimar said, "though only because we're both vastly more skilled than the cheap thugs Tekker and Grayne hired to kill Sir Leonine."
King Rorlen stared coldly at Cimar. "That is a bold accusation, knight. For your sake, you'd better have a way to back it up."
"I do," Cimar said, and motioned to Leonine, who dragged forward the captured guards. "Speak."
The mercenary on the left remained silent, but the one on the right said, "Him, right there. The lord in the red tunic and the knight beside him. They hired us. Wanted the young one dead so as to rattle the knight, so he'd be unfit for combat come some stupid duel."
Rorlen looked unimpressed. "Why should I trust that Sir Cimar is not paying you to speak thus?"
At that, the second man stirred. "He's not. That man right there in the red tunic, Lord Tekker. He hired us. Exactly like my friend said. Nobles do it all the time. They want an edge in a fight or some discussion of some law or another, in a trade session… whatever. This one was no different. Wanted the young knight dead so the older one wouldn't fight as well. Paid us a hundred upfront, with another hundred to be paid when the job was done. I still have the money."