“Why don’t you go,” she said, wishing he didn’t seem so pleased at the way the trial was clearly structured to favor him. If Andreus missed badly, she had to make sure she missed even worse.
“Very well,” Andreus said, selecting a longbow from one of his pages and taking an arrow from the quiver before setting himself at the line of the closest target.
Trumpets sounded. Elder Cestrum stood at the edge of the middle viewing platform. The rest of the Elders were behind him as he announced, “One arrow at each of the three targets. When the trial is completed, we will ask you all to signal which of our successors won this round and will be awarded a point on the scoring board on the castle wall. Now let the Trials of Virtuous Succession begin.”
The trumpets blared. People all around shouted and stomped their feet. They waved banners of mostly yellow. Andreus took his place in front of the shortest distance and raised his bow.
The arrow flew true and thunked into the center of the target, making the audience cheer. Carys picked out a bow of her own and set herself in front of the target. Her accuracy was greater than her brother’s. This was a fact generally acknowledged by both of them and proven by their hours together in practice. She would normally hit dead center. Instead, she took a deep breath, held it, and let the arrow fly so that it thudded into the knot she spied in the wood on the left side of the target.
Andreus looked at her with a frown as the crowd applauded her effort.
Did he want her to look a fool and not hit the target at all?
He turned his back on her, walked to the next target, notched the arrow and let it fly. Center again.
The cheers were louder. She heard her brother’s name shouted as she stood at the marker, drew her own weapon, this time picking a spot at the very top of the target to hit.
The arrow stuck exactly where she’d intended. More polite applause for her attempt as her brother stepped to the final distance. His arrow flew through the air and landed several inches to the left of the center circle he’d aimed for.
“Miss,” he said under his breath as he stalked by her with his bow and she took her place at the line.
Drawing the bow, Carys eyed her brother’s arrow sticking out of the target, then the center circle.
She sighted her target and let the arrow fly.
Thunk. It skewered the small yellow flower that sat at the bottom of the left leg of the stand. She turned and met Andreus’s eyes to let him know that she had hit exactly what she’d aimed for.
“What are you doing?” Andreus asked.
Handing her bow to the page, Carys looked toward the center platform where the trumpeters were again playing. “Only what’s needed,” she answered.
Elder Cestrum waited until the crowd was quiet then asked, “Who among you awards the point for the effort in archery to Princess Carys?”
More cheered than Carys had expected, but it was nothing compared to the thunder of approval and waving yellow banners that followed the announcement of her brother’s name.
Andreus beamed and executed a flourished bow to the crowd, causing them to cheer anew.
When the audience quieted, Elder Cestrum announced, “And the winner of the first point of the Trials is Prince Andreus. For the second event of this tournament, Prince Andreus and Princess Carys will receive quarterstaffs and assume their places in the fighting pits.”
“What? He can’t be serious,” Andreus said, quiet enough that only Carys could hear.
They had passed the fighting pits on their way to the archery field: a fenced-in section that had been wetted down so the dirt was now thick and sticky. In the center of the mud, standing four feet high, were two square platforms big enough for a person to take a small step forward or to the side. Anything more would send the person stumbling to the wet dirt below. Which was the idea. The platforms were close enough for the fighters to wage combat. For the novice fighters, the first to be knocked off his platform was the loser. The more experienced fighters often continued fighting if the fallen didn’t yield. Those fights typically ended in death.
The crowd murmured in confusion. Did the Council truly mean for the royal family to be seen . . . striking each other? It was unprecedented. Elder Cestrum held up his iron hand for silence. “The competition will end when only one competitor remains on his or her platform.”
So it was true. They were to physically spar with one another. Andreus looked ill. As well he should. No one would look with approval on a man who willingly knocked a lady down for sport.
Carys smiled. She had to hand it to the Council for creating a trial that would cause both her and Andreus to lose favor with the crowd. They’d succeed in that aim, unless Carys did something to change things.
“Excuse me, Elder Cestrum,” Carys yelled and everything went silent.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Are you and the Council of Elders requesting that I strike my brother?”
Elder Cestrum frowned at her choice of words. “Do you wish to refuse the task, Princess?”
“I’m just wondering why no one allowed me to do this before,” she said with a smile. “It would have simplified my childhood.”
The crowd nearest to her laughed.
Elder Cestrum glared. Feeling a burst of satisfaction, Carys took the offered quarterstaff from a page and without waiting for her brother strode toward the fences that marked the boundaries of the fighting pit.
Andreus stepped beside her holding a long, thin wooden staff like the one clutched in her hand. The quarterstaff was something Andreus had never needed to work with in his required guard training, so it was a weapon neither of them had attempted before.
Carys removed her cloak and handed the heavy fabric to one of the pages, then walked to the entrance of the fighting pit. She could feel every eye on her. Everything inside her jumped and itched and yearned for a drink of the Tears that would replace the churning feeling inside her with a warm calm. As her feet sank into the muck, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in nothingness. But she climbed the planks nailed to the side of the dirty platform and stood atop it with her shoulders straight. The crowd quieted.
Dreus took his place and the trumpets sounded.
Elder Cestrum’s voice boomed, “Let the second contest of the Trials of Virtuous Succession begin.”