Two men walked onto the field, stopping five feet in front of the leads of each team. Each man held up a ball—the egg—the color of coffee, high enough for everyone to see.
For a second there was total silence, and then a loud horn blew, the eggs were tossed to the first team members, and the men dove out of the way as the ungs shot forward. The first member twisted his ung around one of the thin gold poles that stretched higher than he did, then he tossed the egg over his shoulder without looking and continued on. The second, who was already moving on his heels, caught the egg, moved around the pole, and repeated the motion by chucking it to the guy behind him.
A few times she thought for sure someone was going to drop it, but their deft fingers managed to clasp it in midair, or stroke the side so that it rolled into their palms as if coaxed there. By the time the last team member had the egg, the first three had already disappeared over the rise of the hill, no doubt moving on to the second course.
The last member rose up so that he was standing in his saddle—which she noted was exactly like the kind for a horse—and tossed the egg over the rise. A moment later excited shouts came from the crowd below, who could see the second course.
“He caught it,” Ruckus said with a chuckle, then pointed to the Kint team who was a half minute behind. Their final rider was now doing the same, tossing the ball over. Another cheer sounded and he grunted. “They did, too.”
“We are the best.” The new voice caused Delaney’s spine to tingle, and she twisted her head to find Trystan approaching. There was a glint in his eyes she couldn’t place, and she wasn’t sure she actually even wanted to.
“We’ll see,” Ruckus replied in a tight voice, then added, “Zane Trystan.”
“I’ll escort Lissa Olena from here, Ander.” He came to a stop at her side, close enough that the tips of her fingers almost touched his thigh.
“With all due respect—”
“You can follow at an appropriate distance.” Trystan waved him off, signaling that he should fall back.
Ruckus held her gaze for a moment before obeying. It was clear by the way his jaw clenched that he didn’t like it. He didn’t have any say in the matter though; he was only a commanding officer, while Trystan was a prince.
Steeling herself for another conversation with him, Delaney forced her gaze away from the safety of Ruckus and faced the Zane.
He was watching her closely and with interest. Offering up the curve of his arm, he smiled wickedly. “Shall we, Lissa?”
Her hand was tiny against his arm, and as they started walking toward the hill that would lead to the second course, her heart began to thump. Needing to keep her cool, she reminded herself that there was nothing he could do to her out here. Not with all these witnesses. Besides, he wasn’t stupid. He hated Olena, sure, but he had to know hurting her would only cause him more trouble, especially when he was currently in Vakar territory and not Kint.
He led her over the small rise to the second part of the course, which looked very similar to the first. There were a few extra poles for obstacles, and the teams were already halfway through them. Without a word, he picked up the pace, almost tugging her along before she managed to find her footing.
Delaney’s fingers inched toward the hem of her skirt, finally giving in and tugging it down. She managed to get it half an inch, but within three steps it’d ridden up again. The faster they walked, the quicker it rose, and she inwardly cursed for what felt like the millionth time that she’d allowed Lura to convince her that wearing it was a good idea.
Then an odd sense of awareness had her turning her head slowly toward the man at her right.
Trystan was watching her, but more so, he was looking at where her hand was still pressed against the end of the gold cloth and her thigh in a poor attempt to keep the skirt in place. Sensing she was now looking his way, he glanced up.
“Uncomfortable, Lissa?” he asked in a husky voice.
The crowd to the right cheered, and a breeze blew by, bringing with it a hint of roses and sweat. She’d stopped paying attention to where they were going, knowing only that they were following the trail of the course, but suddenly she was uneasy. It was bad enough that she had to be here with him; now she was also missing the actual event.
Ruckus had been right, too. She’d been enjoying it up until Trystan had appeared.
“I’m fine, Zane.” She cocked her head. “You?”
He chuckled. “What reason would I have to be uncomfortable?”
Not having a good enough response to that, she shrugged a delicate shoulder and returned her attention to the game.
“It’s a bit curious what you’d want with a book comparing human and Vakar customs,” he said, breaking the silence when it became apparent she wasn’t going to. He didn’t look at her when he did it, letting this information sink in.
He’d been paying way more attention to her at the library than she’d even guessed.
“It contains Kint customs, too,” she said, spitting out the first thing that came to mind. Which apparently wasn’t the right thing.
“First the shirt, now this?” He quirked a blond brow. “Careful, I might start to think you’re trying.”
They’d caught up to the game and were close enough that she could pointedly turn her attention its way. She watched as the players swerved through the obstacles, fascinated by how swiftly they were able to do so.
“Do they learn how to ride at an early age?” she asked, momentarily forgetting in her curiosity that she shouldn’t.
Trystan, who’d still been moving them briskly along, paused and glanced down at her.
“Never mind,” she blurted before he could respond. A second later one of the Vakar players fumbled, and she sucked in a breath.
The egg dropped to the ground with a vicious splat, releasing a thick perfume of cloves into the air. The innards were a milky white, which the clawed feet of the ung smashed farther into the ground as the creature wobbled. The Vakar player was half out of his seat, trying, and failing, to right himself. After a short struggle, he fell out completely, landing with a sharp sound on his shoulder.
Delaney winced, watching as the Kint team continued on to the other course even as a few Vakar came running onto the field to check on the fallen player. He was sitting up, but he clutched at his left shoulder, clearly in pain.
When she finally pulled her eyes away and looked back at him, Trystan was grinning ear to ear. It wasn’t the boyish and innocent kind of smile, though. There was something darker lurking just beneath the surface, and before she could fully place her finger on it, he was bringing them to a stop.
They’d moved away from the wire by some ten feet, putting more space between them and the few others watching on this side. There was another tree ahead a few yards, short and stubby, maybe only a foot or so taller than the Zane. Its leaves tinkled when a warm breeze blew by, like pennies being dropped into a glass jar.