“Now who lies?” Relos Var snapped.
The duke didn’t seem to have heard Var’s words, or if he did, he took it all in stride. “Well, then … it is decided.”
I exhaled in relief. “Here? Or in the main yard?”
“Oh, the main yard,” the duke said. “It is the tournament, after all. No reason not to share.”
Only then did Var look uncertain. “Wait. What’s been decided?”
The duke and I looked at each other.
“He’s a foreigner, my duke,” I said, letting my voice drip with condescension.2
Relos Var schooled his expression into one less angry. “I don’t deny this. But I think I have a right to know what you both mean.”
The duke waved a hand. “Oh, well, you have each accused each other of serious crimes. There is one way to settle the matter: in combat.”
I smiled at Relos Var. “That means we’re going to have a duel. And if you refuse, everyone will know you for the fraud you are.”
He stared at me. He looked a little shocked or, at the very least, a little appalled. Then he started to chuckle.
“My dear girl, you must know you cannot win against me.”
“You mean I can’t win against a sorcerer of your caliber?” I rested one hand at my belt, near my weapons but not on them. “Yes, I know.”
He made a face. “That’s your game? You think you can put me in a position where I would have to use magic to defend myself? A fool’s plan. I expected better.”3
“We’ll see,” I murmured.
The duke said, “I hate to interrupt, but it is traditional to separate the two sides. Relos, why don’t you accompany me? We must find someone to fight in your place.”
“I’ll fight my own battles.”
“What?” The duke seemed taken aback, but then shrugged. “Well, if you wish. Then we must find you armor and a weapon. Come with me…”
I smiled. Relos Var’s stare never left mine until he allowed the duke to lead both him and Tamin out. As soon as he exited, I felt like all the air returned to the room, and my heart remembered how to beat again.
“What have I done?” I muttered to the quiet.
But no one answered.
29: AN ILL-ADVISED DUEL
Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Three days since Kihrin littered the Capital City with unwanted talismans
“You didn’t,” Kihrin said.
“Oh, I did,” Janel admitted.
“But you didn’t fight him.” Kihrin raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I’m not kidding when I say I’ve seen Relos Var face down gods. Not just god-kings. The Three Sisters themselves: Luck, Death, and Magic. At the same time.”1
“Oh, she fought him,” Dorna said. She looked up at Star. “I can’t reach her from here. Do you mind, dear?”
“No problem,” Star said. He leaned over and slapped the back of Janel’s head.
“Hey!” Janel glared at Star. “Watch it!”
“And you deserve a thousand more, colt,” Dorna said. “I raised you better.” She stabbed her finger at the bar top. “Don’t pick a fight with someone who scares gods. Words to live by.”
“I knew exactly what I was doing,” Janel protested. “Mostly.”
Qown opened his book. “I really hate this part.”
Qown’s Turn. The Malkoessian compound, the Green, Atrine, Jorat, Quur.
The guards pulled Brother Qown and Mare Dorna into the tent. Flame motifs stitched in red and glittering gold decorated its interior. The Stavira jaguar grinned at them from every surface, as if to mock their foolhardy trespassing.
Brother Qown had met Sir Oreth once, when he arrived at Tolamer Castle months ago with soldiers and malice. Sir Oreth had grown no less handsome in his absence. The Joratese called his coloring sun-kissed—a golden-white laevos and bronze-brown skin paired with darker brown socks on his hands. A white blaze surrounded one eye, which gleamed a lighter brown than its twin.
His temper hadn’t improved either. When they returned to the tent, Sir Oreth raised his sword to Mare Dorna.
“No, Sir Oreth,” Senera admonished. Her accent placed her origin in the Quuros Capital.2 “Bodies lead to investigations. We don’t wish to draw attention. Lord Var would be very disappointed.”
“This bitch knows me,” Sir Oreth said. “If she tells my father, he’ll call due on his loans, and then your people won’t have a Gatestone in Tolamer to use.”
“She’s an old woman. She can’t hurt you.” Senera looked at Mare Dorna, then at the guards. “Someone remove her gag.”
Brother Qown had expected expletives to rain from Mare Dorna’s mouth as soon as the guard ungagged her. But perhaps because Dorna understood their situation, they didn’t.
“What happens now?” Mare Dorna asked, chin held high.
“Oh, the usual,” Senera said. “We talk, I ask questions, you try to give me some story—truth or lie, whichever you prefer—to convince me not to let the charming Sir Oreth here slit your throat.”3
Brother Qown swallowed. “It’s not done here, you know. Trespassing isn’t seen as a capital crime in this dominion. It would seem very odd to put us to death. No one is going to believe we’re assassins caught in the act. If Sir Oreth kills us, there will be repercussions.”
Senera turned and looked at him for the first time. Her warm gray eyes were not god-touched, not one of the Royal Houses’ divine colors.
She winked at him.
“The priest has a point,” she said to Sir Oreth.
“The old woman is an evil hag with a wicked tongue,” Sir Oreth said.
“Ay, that’s just what your mother used to say,” said Mare Dorna.
He drew his sword again and took a step in her direction.
A guard stepped in the way.
“Dorna!” Brother Qown said. “You’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “Couldn’t stop myself.”
Senera watched the group with an expression bordering on disbelief. She crossed over to a table and poured several cups of tea. “I stand corrected. The old woman can hurt your feelings.” She held up a cup. “Would anyone like tea?”
“Oh, I would,” Mare Dorna said. “If you’d just untie me…?” She wriggled her arms behind her to emphasize her restraints
Senera studied her and held out the cup. “Untie yourself. We both know those bonds might as well be made from pulled sugar floss to someone like you.”
“What are we doing?” Sir Oreth gestured toward the azhock’s front. “My family will be back any minute. We have no time for socializing with peasants. You’re sweet enough to look upon, Senera, but you’re not fooling anyone into thinking you’re a stallion.4 Leave this to people who know what they’re doing.” He motioned to the guards. “Take them both. We’ll move them to the south barn and figure out what to do with them later.”
“Still charming as ever,” Dorna muttered.
Senera’s expression tightened, and she closed her eyes for a second. She set down the tea. “Sir Oreth, what’s that noise?”