“Then I hope you have the good luck I did today.”
She startled him when her hand reached out, grabbed his and gave it a quick squeeze before letting go again. “That wasn’t luck; it was skill. Amazing, wondrous skill. I’ve always known you were an excellent swordsman, but to see it in its full glory today…” She shook her head. “I don’t have the words adequate enough to describe it. If my brother learns only a sliver of what you know, he will be a formidable fighter.”
Praise for his expertise had cascaded down on him from all quarters, but none seemed as meaningful as Jahna’s compliments. He bowed. “I thank you. Let me return the favor and offer you a token to carry with you when you meet with the dames tomorrow.” He fished a carved bit of black stone out of the pouch he wore at his belt and handed it to her.
She held it up to her candle, fingertips sliding over its surface as she traced the etched design. That ever-present inquisitiveness blazed to life in her eyes. “It’s beautiful. What is it?”
“A blessing stone. Chiseled out of the face of the cliffs that line the shores of Ancilar in the country of Gaur. It’s supposed to protect a person from drowning and from storms, as well as give a measure of good luck.”
She clutched it in her fist. “Thank you!
He reached back into the pouch. “And before I forget.” Her brooch lay in his open palm, a delicate thing out of place amid the calluses and scars that decorated his hand. “Your token worked its magic.”
Those slender fingers curled over his, folding them until he clutched the brooch in a closed grip. “I’d like it if you kept it. For the next time you need a little luck.”
Some small part of him unknotted. He hadn’t realized how much he didn’t want to give up the token until she told him to keep it. The amethyst had value, but the meaning behind her offering was priceless. He tucked it back into the pouch without argument. The candle in her hand pooled more wax into its dish, reminding him of the hour’s lateness. “I’ll leave you to seek your rest. Good evening, my lady.”
He turned but was halted by her touch on his elbow. “Thank you, Sir Radimar.” The fervency in her voice surprised him.
He tilted his head, puzzled by her tone and the fact that she thanked him twice for the blessing stone he gave her. “It’s a small thing, my lady. We can all use a little protection now and then.”
“Not that,” she said and shook her head. “Though I will treasure the stone. I thank you for the gift of the dancing, of the garden, and of our time. For the first time since we’ve attended Delyalda, I understand why people love it so. That’s your doing. I thank you for showing me its magic.”
She was worth every drop of blood he might spill in defending her name, her dignity, and her character. Jahna Uhlfrida, marked and shunned, was unique. In the full bloom of adulthood, she would be glorious.
He bowed. “Believe me, my lady, the pleasure is mine.”
Her soft “Goodnight, Radimar” followed him out the door, a caress on his shoulders.
6
Two years later
The Maiden awakened, Year 3840
Jahna sat next to her father amidst a crowd of other noble families who gathered to watch the Exhibition. As usual, the bookmakers were busy taking wagers over who among the combatants would win in this year’s bouts, and Uhlfrida himself had laid down a sizeable sum in favor of his son, despite Sodrin’s loss two years prior. While her brother didn’t think their father believed in his abilities to show well during Exhibition, Jahna saw the wager as proof of his faith in Sodrin’s chances of winning.
She huddled inside her cloak, gloved hands wrapped around a goblet of hot mulled wine. This year the snows fell heavy during Delyalda, but it didn’t stop the crowds from packing into the palace grounds for the spectacle and pageantry of the Exhibition or the Firehound ceremony that would take place the following night.
Uhlfrida drank from his own goblet and gestured at the figure striding across the arena toward them. Radimar’s red hair shimmered, even under the winter sun’s dull light, a beacon that drew many a gaze, including Jahna’s. Her father shifted in his seat, restless and eager for the bouts to begin. “I expect Sodrin to win this time. Three years of Radimar’s instruction, and he should know how to wield a sword without lopping off his own arm.”
“Have a little faith, Father. You’ve seen yourself how far Sodrin has come. He’ll make you and Sir Radimar proud.”
They weren’t empty reassurances. Jahna still practiced basic skills in the morning with both men, but Sodrin had progressed so far beyond her under Radimar’s grueling training that they were no longer equal sparring partners. It pleased her to see the gap widen so far between them.
Her time in the training solar had been the result of a bargain made between her and the swordmaster—her time under his tutelage in exchange for his information regarding the Ilinfan Brotherhood to record and keep for Scripture House. She could hold her own against the likes of Evaline Lacramor now, but her best skills were reserved for the quill and ink and her ability to write down those things most important to the record keeping of Belawat’s history.
Radimar reached them and bowed, a dusting of snow spilling off his shoulders as he did. “Lord Uhlfrida, my lady. Sodrin is as ready as he’ll ever be for the Exhibition. He’s eager instead of anxious. He’ll do well in the bouts.”
“He better,” Uhlfrida groused. “Or I’ll be considerably poorer than when we first arrived here.”
Radimar slid a knowing look to Jahna who tilted her head and arched her eyebrows in an expression of “Same thing every year.” He returned his attention to Uhlfrida. “He’ll have to work hard for the win, my lord. One of his opponents is good, very good. Swordmaster Finulis trained his father.”
Uhlfrida groaned. “Then he’s lost already.”
“Father!” Jahna scowled at him, annoyed by her sire’s pessimism.
The swordmaster shrugged. “Not necessarily, my lord. Remember, it was the father, not the son whom Finulis taught. I don’t know who taught him, but it wasn’t an Ilinfan swordmaster.”
“Any missive from the king this year, Sir Radimar?” Jahna had asked the same question last year when everyone gathered for the Exhibition. Many people wondered if Radimar Velus would ever again face the king’s champion in the arena.