The woman leaned on the bow and offered that disarming smile of hers. Then Moya jerked her head at Udgar and silently mouthed the word puppy.
If she weren’t so genuinely concerned, Persephone might have laughed.
“If you truly believe that I should be keenig…” Persephone looked at Raithe. “If you think I can lead our people to defeat the Fhrey nation, then you must believe I can defeat a single Gula. I know you think it’s impossible. But you just said I proved the impossible is achievable. I’m asking you to believe that I know what I’m doing. Do you, Raithe? Do you truly believe what you so eloquently said? Do you believe in me?”
“But Moya—” Raithe said.
“Just answer the question. It’s a simple question.”
A long silence, and then…“Yes,” Raithe said.
She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help leaking a little smile. Raithe was in love with her. He’d admitted as much on the beach and in Dahl Rhen, the first time he’d asked her to come away. He’d do anything to protect her. This one word proved more than his love; it proved he trusted her, even when reason told him he shouldn’t.
She looked at the other chieftains. “Well? Do you agree? Do you appoint me to represent the Rhulyn-Rhunes? Do you give me the authority to choose my champion? And if my champion prevails, will you accept me as the leader of all our clans?”
“Win this battle, and you will win my undying loyalty,” Tegan told her.
“Does that go for the rest of you as well?” she asked, and they nodded.
“It’s decided!” she shouted. “Moya will represent me in battle against Udgar for the position of keenig!”
The crowd came alive. Shouts of “Gula!” and “Udgar!” came from the small but loud fur-covered contingent. Shouts of “Rhulyn!” came from the rest. No one cheered Moya’s name.
Persephone walked to Moya as she bent the staff to string the bow. “Are you scared?”
Moya looked over her shoulder at Udgar, who was flexing his arms and cracking his neck. “Of him?” Moya said, sounding insulted.
Persephone watched Moya fit the string. Her hands were steady, her movements fluid.
Is she really so confident?
“No pressure, Moya. Just the future of every Rhulyn-Rhune, and maybe even all of humanity, is in the balance. So, nothing to really worry about.”
Moya glared.
“Seriously, though…” Persephone hesitated. “It’s just…he isn’t a demon. Does that bother you? Killing a person, I mean?”
Again, Moya looked at Udgar. “Not him it doesn’t.”
Persephone nodded. “Okay, then.”
The mob drew away, pressing toward the walls, giving the two plenty of room. Raithe moved close to Persephone as they both backed up to the edge of the crowd.
Persephone said a silent prayer to Mari as Moya pulled five feathered shafts from her belt pouch. One without feathers had been lost and the other one had been fixed by Roan during the boat trip back.
“Sticks? You fight me with sticks?” Udgar laughed at her. He hefted his spear and pounded it against the face of the shield secured to his arm, making a mighty whump! “Come get me with your sticks, little girl.”
Moya held all five arrows in her pull-hand, fitting one in the string. “Don’t need to.”
Udgar raised his spear and took one charging step forward. Moya drew back, bending the bow. Just as with Balgargarath, she made a fine image—straight and confident.
She loosed the arrow. A sound like the whisper of a small bird taking flight issued, and across the courtyard the Gula champion stopped his charge and collapsed to the dirt.
In the wake of his fall, there wasn’t a sound. The courtyard remained silent. No cheer, no shouts of anguish. Bewilderment infected every face as the crowd continued to lean forward with anticipation for a battle that had already ended.
Udgar thrashed on the ground, clawing at his neck, a spray of blood forming a pool. His legs kicked, and an awful gurgling sound bubbled from his mouth along with a wellspring of blood.
The spectators still stared.
“What’s happening?” someone asked, as confusion held everyone in shock.
Finally, Udgar stopped moving altogether. The pool continued to spread, soaking the dirt. Still, there was a shaking of heads, a narrowing of eyes, questions whispered.
One of the Gula-Rhune clansmen approached Udgar’s prone form and examined him. Everyone waited for the explanation to the riddle. When the man stood, he had a look of shock on his face. “Udgar…Udgar is dead.”
Still, no one cheered. This wasn’t the answer they had expected. If not for the blood, they might have thought Udgar was faking. Trying to lure his opponent closer, so he could strike. Not even their own eyes were enough to prove that a petite woman had killed the Gula giant. That she had done so in the span of a single breath, made it even more unbelievable.
Raithe looked at the fallen warrior, and then at Moya, who was already unstringing the bow. “You did it.” He turned to Persephone. “She did it. She actually did it! That was…that was amazing.”
“You all right, Moya?” Persephone asked.
Moya nodded, but there was no smile, no flippant remark. Instead, Moya wore a grim, serious expression—the look of a warrior.
“By the blessed hand of Mari,” Lipit muttered as he took a hesitant step forward, struggling to believe. He stared at the prone form of Udgar facedown in the dirt. Then the chieftain of Tirre looked at Persephone with awe. “You really are the keenig.”
Tegan nodded. “You are the keenig.” Then the chieftain of Clan Warric upstaged Lipit by kneeling before her.
“Yes, you are the keenig,” Harkon affirmed as he also took a knee.
So did Krugen and Alward, making it official.
“I’d pledge my sword,” Raithe told her, “but all of mine are broken.”
“I’ll make you a new one,” Roan told him. “A good one. One that won’t break…ever.”
Tekchin ran to Moya. “And here we thought you couldn’t throw a spear! That was amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. Didn’t even see it fly.”
She whirled on him. “No? Well, trust me, you will if you ever hurt anyone I love again!”
Tekchin pulled back, confused.
Moya leaned in, jabbing a finger at him, her eyes filled with far more fury than she’d showed Udgar. She pointed at Gifford. “If you ever do that, I swear to Mari, I won’t hesitate to—”
Tekchin threw his hands up in defense. “I didn’t—”
“But you didn’t stop it, either. I mean it, Tekchin! I’ll drop you like the poisonous snake you are. You or any Galantian.” She stared fiercely at Eres. “And I’m pretty sure I could do so at more than a hundred yards.”
“Moya,” Gifford said, “it’s all wight.”
“No, it isn’t!” Moya glared at Tekchin. “You could have done something, but you just stood there and watched…watched while he…he…”
“I didn’t like what happened, either,” Tekchin said.
“But you didn’t stop it! Why didn’t you stop it? Why? You stood there like everyone else, just watching. You heard Gifford’s cries; you heard his screams. And what did you do? Nothing!”