“Eamon’s asked Clark and Charles if they would design an event.”
Fallon looked surprised. “That’s a pretty big complement. The organizers are very particular about who they allow to arrange the individual events since all are open to anyone who wishes to compete.”
Shea shrugged. “Clark seemed to be very excited about it.”
“He should be. They don’t let just anyone help. Will you be involved?”
“He seemed to think I would be. Not too sure though.”
His gaze sharpened on her. “Why?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I’ve never been to one of these. I wouldn’t know the first place to start, and shouldn’t the credit go to a Trateri?”
He scowled. “You are Trateri.”
She looked away and shrugged again.
He took a deep breath. “Do your people ever have tournaments like this?”
Shea thought about it. “I don’t think so. They’re mostly focused on training. Once an apprentice passes the last test, they’re assigned to a village or their next posting. It can be years before they circle back to the keep again.” She tilted her head. “Some of the towns have festivals where there are occasional competitions, like who can toss a rock the farthest.”
Shea had never been very interested in attending those, not understanding the interest in comparing whose throw had the longest reach.
“There are events like that, but most test a skill. My favorites have always been hand-to-hand combat or tests of horsemanship.”
Shea would have liked to see him compete in one of those. “And how many of these have you won?”
He gave her a wicked smile. “Every single one.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Every one? Even your first?”
“I’m a legend. Haven’t you heard?”
She snorted. “You’re something all right.”
He had a crafty expression on his face when he asked, “Shall I prove it?”
She tapped her glass with one finger as she considered him.
He leaned forward, setting his wine aside. “Let’s make things even more interesting with a bet. I win, and you owe me a boon.”
“Fine, but turnabout is fair play. If you lose, you owe me one.”
“Deal.” He held his glass out for her to toast.
“Alright, deal.”
They drank to seal the deal.
Fallon finished his with a long gulp. “It’s too bad you’ll be considered an organizer and ineligible to compete. I would have liked to have seen you victorious.”
Shea’s drink went down the wrong pipe kicking off a storm of coughing. “In what event? There’s nothing I could beat the Trateri at.”
“I don’t know. You have shown a surprising resourcefulness over these past few months. I’m sure you could have brought my men to their knees.”
His statement struck her as funny, Shea snorted and threw her head back to laugh. “In what world are you living? Have you not seen me these last few months practicing with Trenton? Last week I nearly fell off my mount. I make toddlers seem skilled.”
He pointed at her with his glass. “You forget these tournaments test more than just skill with a weapon. They’re designed to test your mind and body and mental fortitude. There will be endurance courses, even navigation courses. Also, Trenton is considered elite. You can’t judge your skills by his. Most of my soldiers would have similar difficulties. You are better than you believe.”
“Hm.” Shea wasn’t quite convinced.
“I have faith in you. I will be here to push you until you have the same belief in yourself,” he told her.
She gave him a sideways look before dropping her eyes and taking a sip of her drink. He lifted an arm. She shifted over, turning her back and leaning against him.
Fallon pressed a kiss on the side of her forehead. “My world is grey and cold when you’re not in it.”
“Mine too.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I STILL think we should be spending this time going over last-minute preparations,” Charles complained.
“Shush your worrying. We’ve already gone through things ten times,” Clark said. “The Warlord is riding. He hasn’t competed in years. This might be our last time seeing him.”
Shea ignored the exchange, watching the contenders on the field. Evidently, Fallon’s inclusion in the race was a bigger deal than she had previously thought. Since news of his entry, the audience for the event had swelled to four times the size of other events.
Even the Airabel villagers had turned out, lining the branches and rope bridges above the audience. Shea had offered to take Clark and Charles up there where the view was undoubtedly better but had been refused. Emphatically. Both men had looked at her like she was crazy, so she’d dropped it. She kind of regretted that now, with the press of Trateri on all sides.
Fallon, like the rest of the competitors, was bare chested, his hair knotted back from his face, with a streak of black darkening his eyes and temples. He looked over at Shea and smiled, the expression causing some of the women around her to titter in a way she hadn’t heard since she lived in Birdon Leaf. She knew that sound. It was the sound of women admiring a good-looking man that they would like to have. A man that was Shea’s.
This feeling of possessiveness was new to her. She didn’t know if she liked it or the accompanying jealousy.
“What are they doing?” Shea asked as two riders lined up on either side of the field.
The riders began a slow trot toward one another. In the next moment, the horses opened up to a full-on gallop, thundering headlong towards each other. The riders leaned over, one managing to get his hand around the other’s foot and yanked, unseating his opponent. The man crashed to the ground and rolled, arms up to protect his head.
A thunderous roar of approval came from the crowd as the victor rode past, his arms held high above his head as he whooped.
Shea’s mouth was open as she stared wide-eyed as the next pair squared off. “Please tell me I didn’t just see that.”
“I don’t know what you’re so upset about. This is pretty tame so far. Once they get past the qualifying rounds, it gets a lot more violent,” Charles said, his face bored.
She turned to look at the other two with wide eyes. “How do you not consider this violent? If he’d fallen under the horse, he would have been trampled.”
Clark nodded. “That is a danger. There are rules to keep the competitors from targeting each other like that, but it happens by accident every once and a while.”
“And you still do this?” Shea couldn’t help the way her voice rose at the end.
The two looked at each other, their expressions saying they didn’t understand why she was so aghast. They looked back at her and nodded.
“Why?” she asked with wide eyes. “That is the action of a crazy person.”
She looked back at Fallon. What kind of madman would do this? What kind of madman would do this after making a bet? Why had she agreed to the bet?
Her palms started sweating and her stomach roiled. If he died, it would be because of that stupid bet. She leaned her head against the wooden fence the Trateri had erected to keep the audience from swarming the field.