"I think for it to qualify as an orgy there must be at least five," Cimar said blandly, as though discussing a treatise on the average crop yield over the span of a decade. "Don't ask me how I know."
"Oh, I'm going to ask," Korena retorted.
Davrin and Aliara lifted their eyes to the ceiling.
Sadly, they then passed through the doorway that took them back to the public spaces of the castle, and then out into the great hall itself, beyond the walls of the castle, and to the fairgrounds.
The air was bitingly cold, the kind of cold that hurt to breathe in, left the lungs full of needles and the face frozen within moments. Even the fine furs they wore only did so much to keep them from being miserable.
Well, him and Korena and Aliara. If Cimar was affected by the cold, he gave no sign of it. He was as calm and collected and beautiful as on the morning he'd presented himself as Davrin's champion, angering King Rorlen and genuinely concerning Grayne and Tekker, despite their attempt at acting otherwise.
As they reached the private royal entrance of the fairgrounds, Leonine stepped clear of the crowds. He was carrying Cimar's shield on his back—not the usual buckler used in most duels, either, but a full-sized battle shield. He was holding the reins to their horses and lifted a hand in greeting. "Sir Cimar! Oh! Your Highness, my lady, your pardon." He knelt in the snow, smooth and graceful, and rose just as easily when Korena bid him do so. "Your lordship. May your noble champion take the day." His mouth twitched, and breaking formality he said, "Not that victory is hard when one is fighting a rabid dog with one trick to his name, and that trick quite old and used up."
"What have I told you about being cocky?" Cimar asked lightly, the reprimand ruined by a soft laugh.
Leonine grinned unrepentantly. "It's not cocky if it's true."
Cimar sighed. "Let's go, rapscallion. Your Highness, my lady, thank you for allowing me to walk with you. My lord, I will bring you victory."
"Just stay alive," Davrin said, hating he couldn't drag Cimar in for one last kiss. He watched as Cimar and Leonine walked away, and once they were out of sight escorted Korena and Aliana to the royal box.
King Rorlen was already there, Tekker alongside him like always. Normally the box was full of toadies and other guests, but right then there was only the five of them. Korena and Rorlen shared a look, some indecipherable conversation between king and crown princess, father and daughter.
Whatever was said, Rorlen wasn't happy about it, but he only grunted and motioned for all of them to sit.
Davrin bowed respectively and went through the usual platitudes, then took his place at Korena's side. Strange that it was already becoming second nature to do so.
Servants came up with hot mulled wine, and Davrin took one gratefully. Still others stepped forward with lap blankets and hot stones. "Thank you." As the servants faded off, he turned to Korena. "I don't think I've ever seen this place so crowded."
"Everyone loves a good fight to the death," Korena said, voice level, but with underlying bitterness. "All the more exciting when it's against the Hellhound of Darmount and the new, exciting and popular Lindworm Slayer."
"At least they'll be too busy squabbling over their tasteless bets to get into much other trouble tonight."
Korena didn't roll her eyes, but the look she cast him conveyed it all the same. "You know people better than that."
Davrin laughed. "One can always hope."
The conversation lapsed as Rorlen lifted a hand and the trumpets obediently sounded. Standing, he hauled himself to the railing and bellowed out, "Today we conclude the challenge of Lord Davrin Dweller-by-the-Sea against Lord Tekker Malden. Champions, present yourselves."
Crossing the field, Grayne and Cimar knelt before the royal box, heads bowed low.
"At your personal request, this challenge had been declared a fight to the death. I declare this fight no holds barred. May the greatest win. To your corners."
Cimar rose smoothly to his feet, briefly caught Davrin's eyes, and offered the barest whisper of a smile, then strode off to the far right corner of the arena. There, still acting as his squire though he was technically no longer required to, Leonine slid his shield into place and fit his helmet onto his head. Finally, he handed Cimar his sword and slapped his chest as a sign of readiness and good luck.
In the opposite corner, two servants had been enlisted to awkwardly assist Grayne with his equipment, and it wasn't hard to tell nobody was happy with the arrangement. Grayne had had a squire once, but the poor boy had run off in the night after just two months. Davrin was amazed he'd lasted that long.
When both men had signaled they were ready, flags went up to notify the audience the start was eminent. A hush swept through the crowd, the tension lingered…lingered…
King Rorlen lifted a hand, the guards nearby struck the gong, and the fight was on.
Grayne surged for, all aggression and determination. He lacked finesse but more than made up for it with sheer brute force. Cimar was his opposite: slighter, relying on finesse and dexterity to supplement the strength that did not match Grayne's.
In skill, they were equally matched, well-trained knights with years of experience behind them, even if Cimar had spent most of his time in the archives.
Back and forth across the snow-ridden field they fought, exchanging bone-jarring blows that would leave them covered in bruises, knocking each other over, slamming occasionally into a wall. Davrin was exhausted watching after just a few minutes, the tension coiling in his stomach making him nauseous.
Grayne bellowed as he blocked a blow, feinted, and managed to kick Cimar's feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground, shield sliding away. Cimar blocked the blow that came slashing down at him, managing to catch the flat of the blade against his left vambrace. The blow must have left his arm throbbing, if not full out hurting, but he only rolled away as Grayne wasted precious seconds recovering from the stupidly flashy move and regained his feet. Then he darted away quickly, putting space between them. In place of the shield he could not safely retrieve, Cimar drew a long dagger secured at his back.
Laughing derisively, Grayne resumed his brutal assault, keeping the blows hard and fast, giving Cimar no chance to do anything except defend. As Cimar faltered from the force of one and stumbled back, Grayne lifted his sword and went in for another flashy finishing blow. Cimar ducked and rolled, regained his feet and sheathed his dagger in one smooth move, and scooped up some of the snow around them. As Grayne turned, Cimar threw it in his face, right over the open portion of his helmet, wider than was usual, and open all the way across to give Grayne better vision.
As Grayne snarled and cursed and tried to get the snow out of his eyes, Cimar moved in lightning fast, slamming a fist into his face right where he'd thrown the snow. That sent Grayne reeling, and from there it was easy enough to knock him off his feet.
Cimar straddled him and drew his dagger, slipping it in the gap between the gorget and breastplate, which shouldn't have been possible unless the armor wasn't put on exactly right, or if the aventail that went under it wasn't worn. Grayne had been lazy, or sloppy, or more likely had put on most of his armor alone and had paid the price.
Whatever was said between them, Davrin couldn't hear it from so great a distance, but Grayne lifted a hand in surrender. The crowds around them were a mix of congratulatory applause and resounding booing cries that Cimar hadn't killed him as ordered.