So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

Seven! Seven! The crowd chanted.

Rupert strained to pull the man up onto the platform.

Seven! Seven! The crowd erupted in a cheer when Rupert hauled Four safely onto the platform.

“Are you all right?” Rupert asked.

Four lay there, breathing heavily. “You saved my life.”

“We’re not done yet. Can you jump?”

Four nodded. “I’ll be fine. You go first.”

As Rupert stood, the bell rang. One had finished the course. He waved his arms in victory, but the crowd didn’t seem to notice.

As Rupert leaped across the platforms, the chanting started again. Seven! Seven!

He landed on the third wall and glanced back to make sure Four was all right. When Four made it to the wall, Rupert scrambled up a pole, rang the bell, and jumped down.

The crowd went wild.

Holy shit. He ran a hand through his hair. Stefan was going to be pissed.

*

Up in the royal box, Brigitta heaved a sigh of relief while her brother let loose a long string of curses.

“Who does this Seven bastard think he is?” Gunther growled at Lord Argus. “Mador and Tarvis had excellent runs, and no one even noticed!”

“We could disqualify Seven for going backward on the course,” Lord Argus suggested, then his skinny shoulders slumped. “But we might end up with a riot on our hands.”

Gunther snorted. “The crowd acts like he’s some sort of damned hero.”

Because he is, Brigitta thought. As the crowd continued to shout Seven, a shocking thought jumped into her mind. The Telling Stone marked with the number seven! All this time, she’d thought it referred to the contest of seven men competing for her. But it meant much more than that. It meant Rupert, himself, for he was number seven.

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Surely if the stones had predicted Rupert, that meant he would survive and they would have their happy ending.

Her skin suddenly prickled with an odd feeling that she was being watched. She looked around, but couldn’t spot anyone.

Her attention snapped back to Lord Argus when he told her brother, “The crowd already knows that number Four had the worst time. They could get violent if we don’t make him the loser.”

Gunther huffed. “Seven must be a damned idiot. Why did he bother to save Four’s life? All the losers will end up dead, anyway.”

Argus nodded. “It was a ridiculous waste of time.”

Gunther waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve had enough of this Seven. What is the contest tomorrow? A swordfight?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Argus replied. “The four remaining contestants will be paired up for two swordfights. It will be Captain Mador and General Tarvis against numbers Five and Seven.”

Gunther smiled. “Tarvis is the best swordsman in the country. Make sure he’s paired with Seven tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Argus’s eyes gleamed.

Brigitta’s breath caught. She would have to warn Rupert.

Gunther chuckled. “And tell Tarvis that I have grown tired of Seven. He can take care of Seven just like he did the admiral.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven

He’d been given an inferior sword. Rupert ran his hand along the porous steel and thumbed the dull edge of the blade. Dammit.

Yesterday, after the obstacle course, Brody had passed on a warning from Brigitta. She had overheard the king’s plan to be rid of the annoying number Seven. Gunther had arranged for him to fight the general.

Gunther’s decision had not come as a surprise to Rupert or Stefan. After all, Rupert was posing as an Eberoni nobleman, and he’d become the crowd favorite. That was something the Tourinian king would never accept.

Brody had given them an additional warning, although Rupert didn’t know what to make of it. For the last two days, Brody had caught the scent of the Chameleon in the stands. But since there was a least a thousand people in the stadium and Brody didn’t know what the Chameleon looked like, he hadn’t been able to detect him.

Rupert and Stefan had never heard of the Chameleon, so Brody had explained how the bastard had attempted to take over Eberon by assassination and impersonation before escaping in the form of an eagle. Since he had failed to steal the Eberoni throne, his sudden appearance in Tourin could only spell trouble.

Now, the following morning, Rupert pushed aside all thoughts of the Chameleon. His first concern had to be surviving today’s swordfight.

He examined the field before him. The obstacle course had been removed, but the mudhole still remained. The boar had been killed and served at a celebratory feast last night.

General Tarvis and Captain Mador were nearby, boasting about the feast and making sure Rupert and Five heard about how they had courted the princess while Five and Seven had been kept under guard in the basement.

Rupert glanced up at the royal box. Even from here, he could see how pale Brigitta looked. She was frightened.

Hell, she had every reason to be frightened. Stefan had warned him that General Tarvis was rumored to be vicious with a sword.

“Use your powers,” Stefan had urged him. “Blow him away. Do whatever you have to do to stay alive.”

“But you can’t afford to be obvious about it,” Brody had quickly added. “Being Embraced is a crime here in Tourin. They could kill you for it.”

Rupert glanced down at his shoddy sword. He might be forced to use his power.

“Are you making your peace with the Light?” General Tarvis smirked as he approached Rupert. “You should before it’s too late.”

Rupert squared his shoulders. “Is it true what they say? That you’re the best swordsman in all of Tourin?”

The general shrugged. “It’s a well-known fact.”

“Then why have I been given an inferior sword? Is the prospect of a fair fight too scary for you?”

The general’s eyes blazed with anger. “Mind your tongue, Seven, or I’ll cut it out before I deliver the final blow.”

“When this sword breaks in half on the first strike, the crowd will know you were too cowardly to—”

“Enough!” General Tarvis bellowed, his face turning a mottled red. “Guard!” he yelled at a nearby soldier. “Get him a good sword.”

Yes! Rupert tossed the inferior one on the ground.

Tarvis sneered. “Don’t think it will make any difference. You will still die today.” He marched off to complain to number One.

When the guard handed Rupert a decent sword, he said, “Thank you. Can you give Five a good one, too?”

The guard winced. “He already has a good one.”

Rupert snorted. Perhaps he should be flattered that he was the one they most wanted to kill.

The guards handed each of them a white tunic to put on over their shirts. Each tunic was emblazoned on the front and back with their number.

As the crowd grew increasingly noisy and impatient for the match to begin, Rupert wandered over to Five. “If you’re in danger of being wounded or killed, surrender.”