Deshari shrugged. “He is only king of the military.” She motioned to the guards that had flanked them. “These are my private retainers.” With a lift of her chin toward Malcius, she said, “Who is he? Did you take his sword from him? Did he displease you?”
“He is none of your concern. Our ship was attacked at sea. He and I were thrown overboard and swept away in the current. We made it to shore five days east of here. We are trying to get back to Cael. Will you assist us? The king will be generous in his gratitude.”
Deshari tilted her head and smirked. “I understand that you have sworn fealty to a man. Do you have the authority to offer his money?”
The woman’s syrupy, snide tone grated on Yserria’s nerves. Not knowing if it was true, she said, “He will honor any deal I make.”
Deshari’s gaze dropped to the torque around Yserria’s neck. “Yes, perhaps he will, but we cannot know for sure.” She abruptly straightened and waved a dismissive hand. “I have decided. You may go, but I want him.”
Yserria clenched her jaw. “You cannot have him.”
“Oh? I heard that you had not claimed a man. He does not wear the ribbon; therefore, I am free to claim him, which I do.”
Yserria glanced back at Malcius. “She has claimed you. Do you accept?”
“What? No!”
She schooled her face and turned back to the echelon. “He does not accept your claim.” She inwardly screamed as she said, “I challenge you for him.”
Deshari smirked again. “Does he accept yours?”
“No,” Yserria said firmly.
“It is a pity you do not have a champion. He will come with me now.”
Yserria said, “I need no champion. I fight my own challenges.”
A wave of chatter surged through the crowd. The woman’s face soured, and she glanced at Yserria’s sword. “Are you the woman who fought in the fifth tier of the King’s Tournament?”
“The same,” said Yserria.
Deshari glanced back toward the archery targets. “Then I choose a challenge with the bow. We, in the Third Echelon, are hunters. This is Gemsbrick, my third consort,” she said as she raised a hand toward the man on her left. “He is our best archer. He will defend my claim.”
Yserria’s gaze flicked to the targets and back to the woman. With disgust, she said, “You already have three consorts, yet you seek another. You are not only poor in sensibility but also in decorum.”
With a shrug, Deshari said, “It is not forbidden. As Third Echelon, I find that my needs are greater than those of lesser matrianeras.”
“Then you are weak,” said Yserria. The woman’s lips twisted, but she did not take the bait. Having failed to shame the woman out of the challenge, Yserria said, “You underestimate my resolve and my abilities, Echelon. I have no consorts because I need none to bolster my strength.”
“No, you expect your king to pay your debts and fight your battles.”
“On the contrary,” Yserria said as she raised her voice and gazed over the crowd. “I am a Knight of Cael. I serve my king by choice. I fight his battles, and I claim the spoils on his behalf. I am a weapon at his side, a warrior at his call. My strength multiplies his strength. Through me, you will witness the might of Cael.” She turned toward the echelon. “I accept your terms, Echelon, and I challenge you for your seat.”
Deshari’s smile slipped. She said, “I see. We shall discuss the terms of the challenge again. First, you must rest and eat. You will be my guests. Let no one claim that I took advantage of your dire circumstances.”
“No,” Yserria said with all the sarcasm she could muster, “I am sure no one will say that.”
Deshari abruptly turned and stalked toward the tents at the other end of the field, trailed by her entourage. Yserria and Malcius were encouraged to follow by the guards at their backs.
Malcius tugged at her sleeve. “Wha—”
“Not now,” she hissed.
When they reached the encampment, they were escorted to a tent where several servants were scurrying out with what were presumably someone else’s personal effects. They both stood in the middle of the tent as people scrambled in and out with pitchers, trays of food, and a couple of small mounds of garments. The whirlwind abruptly ceased when everyone left without having spoken a word to them. Malcius rushed to the table and began stuffing food into his mouth, without concern for etiquette, while Yserria paced over the colorful carpet that covered the grass.
After a few minutes, Malcius paused and said, “Are you not tired of walking? Sit and eat.”
She glanced at him and continued her pacing.
“What is wrong with you?” he said.
She strode over to the table and leaned over him. “This is your fault,” she said, trying to keep her voice down. “You wouldn’t stay in the forest. You had to come looking for luxuries.”
“Luxuries? I was starving! We have barely eaten in five days.”
Yserria eyed the food on the table below her. The savory smell finally overcame her frustration, and she sat.
“Why are you so upset?” said Malcius. “They brought us here and fed us.”
Yserria bit into a sweet fruit she had never before tasted and said, “This food comes at a cost.”
Malcius looked at the food with suspicion and then said, “What cost?”
“The echelon has claimed you.”
Malcius shook his head. “I rejected her claim.”
“It does not matter. You are hers.”
“Why would she do that?” he said.
Yserria did not look at him as she said, “An attractive, young, virile man with a good sword arm does not go unclaimed in Lon Lerésh.”
Malcius started to speak and then paused. “You think I am attractive?”
Yserria rolled her eyes. “She does not know you as I do.”
He scowled at her. “What are we going to do? Can we sneak out of here?” He eyed the food. “After we eat?”
Yserria sighed. “I challenged her for you.”
Malcius abruptly stood. “You cannot claim me!”
“I don’t want you!” she shouted back. “It means nothing between us. I told her you rejected the claim, which means you would not fight on my behalf. Normally, that would be a problem for a woman without a champion, but I can fight for myself.”
“So, it means nothing? We do not have to—um—like Rezkin had to—you know …”
“Not unless you accept the claim,” she growled, “so do not accept it.”
“That will not be a problem,” he muttered as he sat again. “So, you defeat her champion and I am free, right?”
“No, it is not so easy. I challenged her, which means she gets to set the conditions for the challenge. She knows I am a swordswoman, so she chose archery.”
Malcius groaned. “Please tell me you know how to use a bow.”
“My skills are … acceptable.” With a sigh, she added, “The echelon’s champion is a master archer. I cannot beat him.”
“Then, I am stuck here!” he cried.
“I am trying to prevent that. As you pointed out before, image is everything. I took Rezkin’s example and made her look weak in front of her people. Then, I challenged her for her seat as echelon.”
“You what? Why would you do that when you know you cannot win?”
“Because the seat of an echelon cannot be won through a simple test of bowmanship. She will have to come up with a new challenge—something more difficult.”
“And I am dependent on you to win this mysterious, difficult challenge,” he said. Malcius grabbed a tankard of ale and emptied its contents. A minute later, he said, “I thought the Leréshi could not prevent a foreigner from leaving, even if he was claimed.”
“That is normally true, but we did not get permission to enter the Third Echelon. We are trespassing. She could have us arrested and thrown in the dungeon if she wanted. This torque and the fact that I am a member of House Rey, which currently serves on the queen’s council, are probably all that is preventing her from doing so.”
Malcius reached for a stack of flatbread and scooped some kind of beige paste onto a dish. “You never told me your family was Leréshi nobility.”
“It doesn’t work that way here,” she said. “My family’s house was raised after we visited Kielen because the queen was worried that I would steal her throne.”