“Shea, what’s wrong?” Clark asked.
“She just realized exactly what Fallon volunteered himself for.” Eamon’s voice came from overhead.
“There’s nothing to be worried about, Shea,” Clark assured her. “He’s competed in this event many times and always walked away with only minor injuries.”
That did not make her feel more comfortable.
“Give it up, boy. You’re not going to talk sense into her. This is something you only understand with time and when you have a stake in the outcome,” Eamon told him. He clapped Shea on the back. “Steady on, lass. You wouldn’t want any of these layabouts seeing you flinch, would you?”
Shea raised her head. No one was looking at her now, but if she kept it up long enough, she would soon draw attention. Daere would have her head if gossip spread that the Warlord’s Telroi cowered during these tournaments.
As soon as she looked, she wished she could duck and hide again. Fallon was up. He waited until she looked his way before raising a fist in salute. She dawned a cool expression and gave him a regal nod.
His opponent said something that had Fallon’s face darkening. They split apart and took their spots on either side of the field. Fallon picked the side that faced Shea.
He sat still as the call was given. His opponent exploded into movement, his horse racing furiously down the field as Fallon waited, arms crossed over his chest and a stony expression on his face.
“What’s he doing?” Clark asked. “He needs to build up momentum or his opponent will barrel right into him.”
A pair of forearms landed on the fence next to Shea. Trenton watched the action with an intent expression. “Watch carefully.”
Shea did.
Fallon waited until his opponent reached a third of the way down the field. He dropped his arms. Between one second and the next his mount lunged into a full-fledged gallop, its hooves churning up the dirt as it strained for every ounce of speed. In an almost lazy movement, Fallon leaned over, hooked his opponent’s foot, and yanked—sending the other man crashing to the ground.
The crowd roared, their sound drowning out the small prayer that Shea offered up.
Fallon’s reined his horse to a stop next to his opponent who had gain his feet and stood looking around with disbelief. Blood ran from a cut on his forehead. Fallon leaned over, touching the wound with two fingers as he said something to his opponent. He didn’t wait for a response as he touched his heels to the horse’s sides and sent it trotting toward Shea and her companions. Clark bounced up and down, nearly giddy with delight.
Fallon’s eyes were somber, though they held a small piece of wickedness as he rode up to Shea. She tilted her head to look up at him. The crowd had fallen silent, just the two of them staring at each other.
Fallon leaned forward and smeared his hand down her cheek and neck. His teeth flashed white and he let out a war holler as he gave his horse a signal that had it rearing onto its hind legs before it hit the ground running.
The crowd roared, the sound deafening under the forest’s canopy. It took a moment before Shea realized they were chanting “Hawkvale” over and over again, the words almost indistinguishable in the din.
She touched her cheek. Her fingers came away with red.
“Is that blood?”
Eamon understood her despite the noise. He nodded.
“It’s considered an honor to be anointed with the blood of his enemy.”
“This is just a competition, right?”
Eamon shrugged. “To a Trateri, every opponent is an enemy.”
Shea gaped up at him. She had blood on her. There was actual blood on her skin that her Warlord had put there, and Eamon was talking to her about enemies and honor.
“You people are a little crazy,” she said. “I mean, gone ‘round the bend-not coming back-crazy.”
He shrugged. Then he nodded. “You’re the one who picked us.”
She scoffed. “We remember things very differently. I seem to remember a certain someone grabbing me by the arm and telling me I was late.”
Eamon’s smile flashed before he gave a whoop as one of the contestants accomplished a daring feat.
“You could have left at any time. In fact, I seem to remember at one point you did leave.”
Shea shoulders rounded until they almost touched her ears. “Yeah, but someone had to go and get themselves almost eaten by a shadow beetle, didn’t they?”
Buck’s hands landed on Shea’s shoulders. “And I for one am very glad you came back to distract that beetle.”
“When’d you get back?” Eamon asked him.
Shea looked back at him in question. She hadn’t realized his team were one of the few who’d picked up patrols again.
“Last night. There are some freaky, scary things out there right now.” Both men’s faces turned a little grim.
“Did you turn your report in already?”
“Hm.” Buck made a sound of affirmation. “Your annoying assistant is already going over it and making copies to be distributed among the command teams.”
“Good, I’ll want to review it with you tonight.”
“Perhaps after I’ve enjoyed myself a little.” Buck gave Eamon a roguish grin as his eye caught that of a Trateri woman with a heart-shaped face next to them.
Eamon waved his hand, letting Buck go. He wasted no time in pursuing the other woman, whose smile at the sight of him heading her way put the rest of them in no doubt how Buck’s night was going to end.
The contestants on the field had narrowed to half their original size. Several Trateri walked onto the field dragging large items.
“What are they doing?” Shea asked.
“They’re setting up obstacles. The second round is a little different than the first. They still have to unseat their opponent, but now they have to do it while dodging the items in their path.”
Yes, because it just wasn’t dangerous enough before. Crazy barbarians.
Charles pushed away from the fence. “We have to leave to get setup for our event.”
Clark protested. “Just a few more rounds.”
Charles looked hesitant, the pull of watching the Hawkvale compete just as much of a temptation as it was for his friend. His jaw firmed. “We need to make our final arrangements. The Wind Division commander showed his trust in our abilities. We can’t let him down now.”
Charles gave Eamon a nod of acknowledgement. Eamon pressed his lips together as if he was fighting to hide a grin.
Charles pulled Clark away, giving Shea and Eamon a determined look.
“I’ll catch up in a few minutes,” Shea told him as he left.
“If you must,” he told her, leaving before she could say anything in response.
“Grumpy,” Eamon said, looking after Charles and Clark. “He’s probably just stressed about things going well today.”
“It was nice of you to give them that opportunity,” Shea told Eamon.
He shrugged off her words. “It wasn’t me. I did offer their names as an option, but it was the elders who picked. What you all are doing is resonating with a lot of people.”
Shea was glad he hadn’t given them the opportunity just because of their previous relationship.
“You should watch this event until the end,” Eamon said. “You want to see who wins the bet, right?”