Sander doesn’t look the slightest bit cowed. “She told me to look out for you this morning, and that’s what I’m doing. And as for what you should be doing? If you truly care for Thyra, stay quiet and let her win this challenge.”
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat, but I’m pathetically relieved to know I entered Thyra’s thoughts this morning, and I know Sander’s right about this. I offer a quick, stiff nod, and together we follow the others down the platform, to a larger arched doorway at the front of the cavernous room, and out into the night. The clearing is lit with hundreds of torches, and more are being brought as hundreds of warriors crowd toward the fight circle. Like last time, I use my small size to my advantage, sliding my way between muscular arms and broad shoulders until I am just behind the people at the front, who surround the roped-off circle. There are two empty areas on either side of the raised benches where Nisse, Jaspar, and many of the men and women who sat at his table are now settled.
Halina, the Vasterutian attendant, is standing by a smaller wooden door set into the base of the tower, and at Nisse’s nod, she opens it. Thyra and her chosen armorers stride out. She’s wearing a long-sleeved tunic that covers her scant kill marks, and a new leather belt. She has a dagger sheathed at each hip. Preben and Bertel hulk at her sides, glaring at Nisse and his entourage. He could stop this farce at any time, but it looks like he’s settling in to watch.
It suddenly occurs to me he might have wanted this all along.
“Blood and victory, Chieftain Thyra,” I shout, and my cry is answered by shouts from some of our warriors, who are scattered throughout the crowd. It’s too tight to move, to allow us to gather in this den of rivals and band together, and I wonder if that’s also Nisse’s strategy, to separate and conquer. For all his talk of harmony and unity, is this how he will crush us?
I frown as Sten enters the clearing. He has chosen a spear for the fight and also has a large knife at his hip. As he is of lower status than Thyra, his weapons are not as fine, but he wears a confident smile as he waves to a large group of Nisse’s warriors, who let out a raucous cheer as he reaches the fight circle. Nisse and Jaspar don’t cheer, but they do offer Sten slight nods as he approaches the raised benches. Sten swings his arms, his muscles flexing as he loosens himself in preparation. He’s only a few years older than Thyra. In his prime. Not like Edvin, who was an experienced warrior but didn’t have the speed he needed to take her down. A flutter of icy unease pulls my hand to my stomach.
Thyra draws her weapons and rolls her wrists, testing the daggers’ weight and feel. She smiles at something Bertel says, and I cannot help a pang of jealousy. I should be there with her.
But she doesn’t trust me anymore. She let one little lie erase her memory of years of devotion. I blow out a shaky breath as the truth seeps in. If that was all it took to destroy any feelings she had for me, they can’t have been strong to begin with.
Or maybe I’m not the only one who’s been lying.
That stinging thought doesn’t stop me from wrapping my hands over the rope that fences off the ring. I hold on with pale knuckles as she and Sten step over the barrier and enter the circle. This is it—only one will walk out. And once she has defeated Sten, I hope she and Nisse will deal with each other as equals. Maybe this will truly bury the talk of treachery. Perhaps he only needs to see what she has become in order to understand that he should listen to her and consider her council as he makes his plans. Perhaps, too, she will listen to him, and consider that an invasion of Kupari might be the one thing that could make us whole again. Or . . . me, at least. I cannot help but hope that someone there, perhaps one of the so-called magic wielders in the temple, will know how to lift this curse from me.
Sander finally reaches my side. “Sten has always been overconfident, and that makes him impulsive,” he says, watching the warrior scuff his boots against the hard-packed earth. “Also, his left side is weak.”
There he goes again, showing off all he knows. But in this case, I don’t tell him to shut up. It’s actually reassuring. We are all taught to wield with both hands, but not everyone can do it well. Thyra can, though. She is staring at Sten with a predator’s focus, one leg back to allow her to drive forward with force. Like always, her opponent is taller and heavier, but female warriors are so accustomed to that difference that we count on it and know how to turn it to our advantage.
Nisse stands and raises his arms. “Like all challenges to chieftain leadership, this duel will be to the death.” He looks down at Sten and Thyra. “As long as you both fight with honor, you are assured of your place on the battlefield of heaven. No fear.”
“No fear,” roars Sten, his dark eyes glittering with the torch flames as he begins to circle Thyra.