“So stop wasting time, and tell it,” Dag ordered.
“Fine, fine.” Val took a deep breath. “So, about two years ago, we were at this party. Since it was an election year, they had a bunch of us in town—it’ll happen later this year too. Too many important people around who need protection. Guarding politicians is a lot like guarding the gardens. Lots of ceremony, lots of time off—and lots of ree parties. One night, this guy—Maize, I think—rented out a whole hall. I swear, half the guard was there.”
“Wasn’t it his engagement party?” interjected Dag.
“Maybe. I don’t remember.”
“See? I knew you wouldn’t.”
“I know the important parts,” she snapped.
“The party,” said Justin, trying to get them back on track. “Ree. Half the guard.”
“Right,” said Val. “Okay, so yeah. Lots of us there, lots of us trashed. Dag’s walking to the bar and overhears this group of Indigos. One of them’s bragging how he used to do canne de combat. Do you know that sport?”
“I must’ve missed that somewhere,” Justin told her.
“It’s nuts,” said Dag. “Imagine fencing with wooden poles. And a lot of acrobatics.”
Justin could not imagine that. “It’s a real sport?”
“Yup. Finn’s awesome at it.” Dag looked as proud as he would have been of a star pupil. “Castals really dig it, but you find plebeian leagues too.”
Val was ready to move on with the story. “So, this Indigo guy, Porfirio, is—was—an ex-castal. Iberian.” Outside Mae’s caste, Justin realized. “And so, he’s there bragging about how great he used to be, and someone feels the need to call him out.” She paused and shot a glare at Dag.
“Hey,” he said, throwing his hands up indignantly. “You should have heard him. He was an arrogant prick. He always was, right up to the end. He needed to be put in his place.”
Val pointed accusingly. “If you’d kept your mouth shut, none of this would’ve happened.”
Dag fell silent, contemplating her words.
“So,” she continued. “Dag tells this guy—Porfirio—how his cohort sister could totally kick his ass. This gets the Indigos all riled up, and everyone starts making bets. The next thing I know, Porfirio’s swaggering up to the table I’m at with Finn, ready for a fight she doesn’t even know about.”
“Arrogant. Prick,” muttered Dag.
“That one Azure guy was hitting on her, you know.” Val’s brow furrowed in thought. “Albright, that’s it. He’s a nice guy. If you’d left well enough alone, she might have gone home with him. It would’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”
“Stop getting on me for stuff that’s already happened!” Now Dag pointed reproachfully at her. “And you know it never would’ve worked with Albright. She’s all stiffly proper in every part of her life, except relationships. Then she somehow ends up with the most messed-up guys out there. Cocky. Full of themselves. Makes me want to punch all of them.”
Justin shifted uncomfortably in the chair.
Somehow, despite constantly distracting each other, the two of them managed to relate the most bizarre story about Mae wagering sex in a fight involving sticks. In his mind’s eye, he could perfectly picture Mae—fast, deadly, graceful—engaging in this duel. He leaned forward, riveted by the drama of the story.
“It was all foreplay,” said Val as she neared the ending. “You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”
“What happened?” asked Justin. “Who won?”
Both Val and Dag hesitated. “I’m not really sure,” she said.
“What? I thought you guys were there.”
“Oh, we were,” she said adamantly. “But it just went on forever. We got bored, and then this fight broke out in the Violets because one of them was cheating or something…so, we all just went over there.”
Justin was stunned. How could Val and Dag have been leading up to this big, climactic moment, only to drop the story now? Even more incredible was how blasé they were about it.
It doesn’t inspire much faith in the country’s defenses, does it? asked Horatio.
Justin agreed. Let’s just hope they’re more competent on the battlefield.
“I think she won,” said Dag. “Porfirio cut his hair the next day.”
“No,” said Val. “I think he won. I saw her. You know that look she gets after sex. She’s less tense for, like, five minutes.”
“Maybe they both won,” he said.
“Or lost,” suggested Val.
Justin wanted to beat his head on the table. Instead, he poured another glass of bourbon. “Is there more to this? What about the part where I’m punishment?”
Val gave up on analyzing the fight’s outcome. “I’m getting to that.”
Maybe by tomorrow, said Magnus.
“Whatever happened, they were together after that. And they were glorious. Her all fair and gold, him like some dark Mediterranean god.”