The mage left Rhey’s chambers. Never in a thousand suns or a million moons had he imagined Xandrie would be on his bed, gold piled high about them, but on the brink of death, rather than ecstasy. He gathered her in his arms and held her close. He could not bear to think of her being cold. The shoulder strap of her dress slipped. He took it gently and returned it to that magical dip where her clavicle met her neck. He wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything, to press his lips to the sweet hollow, but instead he rocked her and wished her back to health.
“Red becomes you, but you will wear gold. Every day from this day forth. I don’t give a damn about this tournament - I’d renounce the throne if that’s what it takes. I just want you.”
He spent a fitful night, administering the antidote Andera had left him and checking Xandrie’s pulse. Little by little the color returned to her cheeks, her breathing deepened, and she shifted from her drugged state to plain sleep.
There was a light tap at the door and Vincent let himself in.
“Have you found him?” Rhey growled.
Vincent approached the King’s four-poster bed. “I have my suspicions, but this is a capital offense. We don’t want the wrong person to lose their head. I tread with caution, but I will bring the perpetrator to justice.”
Rhey wanted to blast Vincent from one side of his lair to the other, but he was merely the messenger and, in any case, he was right. It wouldn’t do to part someone from their head then find they deserved to have kept it. He grumbled and shifted his weight, so that Xandrie was balanced on his chest, rather than his shoulder.
Xandrie stirred.
Rhey loosened his hold on her, propping her on the bank of pillows he’d arranged behind them.
Xandrie licked her lips. “My mouth tastes like some spiky rodent has crawled inside it and died.”
That made him crack a smile; if she could jest, she wasn’t quite on her deathbed anymore. She slept most of a day, and no army could have chased him from her side.
Ally
Vincent had ordered her out to the weapons range, hours before sun up, to practice her chain-mace skills, which he flagged as the weakest of her skill sets. She preferred her sword but until the task was announced, there was no knowing what they’d have them do for the quarter final. Unlike her sword lessons, in which he urged her to keep her wrists still, swinging the mace away from her body required her arms to “Undulate like snakes” and “flow with the wind.” He got poetic when he was in the groove.
There was no poetry about him as he prepped her for her next fight. It turned out, he’d been right to train her in anything and everything.
“The rules are simple, for this task,” the clerk told them, smiling as he added, “there are none. It’s a race, and the two first contenders to make it will be our finalists.”
They were to fight their way to a pitch ten times the size of the regular ring. The terrain was hazardous, the battles brutal, and the outcome uncertain. Bottom line: anything could happen.
Janive strode into the enclosure, where Vincent strapped her weapons to her back, and headed right to her, saying, “I have a proposal.”
“Shoot.” Xandrie shifted her weight from foot to foot, making sure the arsenal she carried was secure.
“Saskia is going to hunt you down and slay you, the first chance she gets. She’s not just out to fight and win on merit, she means to kill you.”
Vincent stopped what he was doing and circled around to face Janive. “You know this how?”
Janive shrugged. “Anyone with eyes to see knows she was humiliated by Xandrie in the quarter finals. She’s never conceded defeat before. Saskia isn’t the kind to stand idly by and allow that to be. She’ll want revenge and she’ll want it served hot and bloody.”
Xandrie shook her head. “She fought well. There was no shame in her defeat.”
Janive shrugged. “Your funeral.” She turned to leave.
Vincent stepped forward, asking for her, “What did you have in mind?”
“Your trainer’s a wise man.” Janive smiled. “I’m thinking Xandrie and I should form an alliance. That way, I’ll have her back, when Saskia makes a play.”
“What about the other finalist, Althara?” said Xandrie.
Janive dropped her voice to a whisper. “The woman doesn’t stand a chance against Saskia. If you and I head to the bluffs and draw Saskia to us, Althara will follow. She loves the hunt, more than the fight. Saskia prefers flatter terrain, so she’ll hang back, but with no one to fight and everyone watching, she’ll track us all the way to the cliff-head. If she’s behind Althara she’ll have the advantage. That takes care of one opponent, leaving you and me to take Saskia out.”
“That’s a ton of strategy - are you sure you’ve read them right?”
“Lady,” Janive said haughtily, making Xandrie like her less and less, “I’ve been fighting these clowns my entire life. I can tell you what weapons they favor, what strategies they employ, who will lead, and who will follow. Trust me.”
Trust her. She forced herself not to laugh. She didn’t - not one bit. But she had a strategy of her own. Pretending to buy Janive’s bullshit meant she could keep a closer eye on her.
Janive held up her gauntlet in the traditional fashion. Xandrie crashed her own wrist against her new friend’s, sealing their alliance.
The second the marshal dropped the ceremonial flag, Xandrie and Janive high-tailed it out of the compound. Xandrie was fitter than she’d ever been, thanks in no small part to Vincent’s training. But beneath the muscle, she sensed another current, which spurred her on. She felt her magic. It had grown stronger since using it in so much abundance at Norda.
When they reached the headland, Janive suggested they split up, so they’d be able to survey more land. She hung a left, while Xandrie jogged right. They could still see one another, but they’d be able to apprehend either Saskia or Althara if they came by the jagged path or through the brush.
They didn’t have to wait long. Althara was stealth itself, but Xandrie – in a way that brought her an abiding pleasure – felt her presence long before she was downwind of them. Xandrie flashed a hand sign at Janive, letting her know the plan was unfolding just as she’d anticipated, she lunged at Althara, her falcata in hand, but felt the sting of another weapon about her calves.
Saskia had joined the fray. The three of them fought their way out of Xandrie’s hideout and into a clearing. Xandrie barely had time to think, but when Saskia took a swipe at Althara, she spun about to find her ally.
Janive stood on the bluff, looking down at them. The crooked smile on her face told Xandrie that this had been her plan all along. Well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t expected a betrayal.
Didn’t matter, though.
Xandrie bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt. She blasted Althara in the face with the entire handful and left her cursing her name, as Saskia tried to lunge for her. She didn’t care about either of them, though.
Xandrie snuffed the air, determined to find Janive, who’d run ahead with a head start. She’d be at the finishing line, soon.
The others had stopped trying to attack and started to run, too, each of them just as strong and powerful; Xandrie might have dragon magic pushing her steps, but so did they.