Chapter 16
16
“Keep yer elbow up, lass! Ye’re going tae drop that sword if ye dinnae!”
Iris fought the urge to roll her eyes as she palmed her sword, her brother’s words filling her head. She had come out victorious with her first match, though the second one was proving to be a bit more difficult. Her opponent wasn’t a burly Scot at all, but one that was quicker than the first had been and better at swinging his sword. Iris’s tunic was clinging to her body from the perspiration under the warm sun, and her arms were starting to ache from holding her sword for so long. Normally in battle, she liked to use her sword and bow together, preferring the bow when she was on horseback.
Still, she used every bit of strength she had to fight back, yelling when the pain started to cloud her mind.
The other Scot was starting to wear down as well, his movements becoming clumsy the longer they sparred. Iris tried not to forget about her elbow as she thrust forward, nearly cutting through her opponent’s tunic before he jumped back, narrowly avoiding losing the match.
With each close mark, the crowd groaned and cheered, likely ready to move on as well. Iris wished for a warm bath and a mug of cold ale herself, but she wasn’t going to get either if she didn’t finish the match.
“Come on, lass!” Ian called out, his strong voice carrying over the crowd. “Ye can do this!”
Renewed by her brother’s apparent faith in her skills, Iris finally spied a weakness in her opponent, right where she could sneak the edge of her sword in when he thrust forward, nicking his upper arm before spinning away in time. She felt the quick pain on her arm as she did so, looking down to find her tunic also cut. A thin line of blood welled nearly immediately, and Iris’s heart sank.
“I cut her!” her opponent called out. “I should be allowed to continue!”
“She cut yer sorry arse first!” Ian stated. “Iris wins!”
“He’s right,” the advisor that had been monitoring their match stated, nodding to the drop of blood on his tunic. “Wallace is the victor!”
The crowd cheered, and Iris sagged against the rough-hewn fence, too weary of standing on her own feet. She had done it. She had moved on to the next rung. But was she going to be able to lift her sword when it came?
Her brothers were there when she exited, Stephan taking her sword from her.
“Och lass, ye look dead on yer feet.”
“I feel like it,” Iris answered as someone thrust a cold mug in her hand. It was just water, but she drank it greedily, wetting her parched throat.
“Well, ye have done well,” Ian added. “Ye only have one more tae win and then ye can rest easy.”
“Who?” she asked hesitantly, noting that the other sparring ring was empty.
“Lennox.”
James had won. It would be between the two of them.
“I…I have tae rest for a moment,” Iris said faintly, thrusting the mug into Ian’s stomach.
“Ye have an hour before the match,” Stephan called out as Iris turned away from her brothers. “The laird wished for ye tae be refreshed.”
Iris didn’t respond, pushing her way through the throng of people until she was on the other side of the camp, where the crowd was not. James. She would have to draw first blood on James .
Sinking to a log in front of a burned-out fire, Iris rubbed a hand over her face wearily. She had slept poorly the night before, her dreams filled with James and a life that she had never thought to be hers. There were bairns, and she was happy, laughing alongside James as they watched their bairns play. What did it mean?
Was she willing to change her path?
Regardless, she couldn’t leave her family as he wished, not when she had overheard her brother and father discussing the latest negotiations.
“There is no hope in these negotiations. We should prepare for battle.”
Iris paused just inside her tent as she heard Ian’s weary voice, the faintest blush of the dawn creeping through the cracks in her canvas. She had been on her way to the gathering place to hear the last game, but she couldn’t very well do so and not disturb them.
Besides, she still hadn’t forgiven her brother for what he had done to James.
“They have been our enemy for so many generations,” her father replied, the same weariness in his voice. “I dinnae understand why we cannae put our differences aside. Our clans are suffering. Our lands are suffering. A truce would benefit both sides.”
Ian chuckled as Iris smothered a gasp at her father’s declaration.
“I never thought I would come across the day that ye wished tae not go tae battle, Da.”
Their father chuckled as well. “There comes a day when even a laird has tae face what is before him. There will always be enemies, Ian, dinnae forget that, but some of those enemies are demons in disguise.”
Blinking out of the memory, Iris stared at the charred wood before her. They had moved on after her father’s parting words, and Iris had stood there longer than she had anticipated, her mind warring with itself.
It was the same with her and James. She had to face what was before her and make a choice regarding her future. Either she could leave the games and move forward with her life or she could…
Nay, Iris thought as she pushed her weary body to her feet, I cannae be with James. The negotiations had failed. Her family was still at war with his, and Iris’s loyalty was always with her family.
Now she had to face him in the sparring ring, the last time she would see him without a battle bringing them together.
It was her worst nightmare.
“Iris?”
Iris turned to find her father standing there, a concerned look on his weathered face.
“Da,” she said, smiling faintly. “I’m just taking a small breath before the last fight.”
“Against Lennox,” he finished, joining her. “Yer brother tells me that Lennox seems tae have turned yer head.”
Ian. She was going to run a sword through him for telling their father that!
“Nay, Da,” she lied. “He hasnae.”
“Ye cannae lie tae me, Iris,” her father said softly. “I know ye too well.”
It was the truth. Her father could sniff out a lie before she got it out of her mouth sometimes.
“It matters not,” she finally said. “I only wish tae win and go home, where I belong.”
To her surprise, her father reached out and took her hands in his.
“Ye are mah favorite daughter,” he started out. “Vera much like me. I have watched ye grow up intae the warrior ye are taeday, and ye make me proud, Iris.”
Tears clogged her throat and Iris had to swallow them so that they wouldn’t spill out onto her cheeks.
“But,” he continued, his expression one of regret, “I fear I have given ye the impression that ye will let me down if ye chose something else.”
“Nay, Da,” she replied. “I dinnae wish tae do anything else.”
Her traitorous heart squeezed painfully in her chest, but Iris pushed it aside.
Her father didn’t look as if he believed her, but he released her hands, giving her a faint nod.
“Aye. Well, rest up, Daughter. One more and we will go home.”
Iris waited until her father had disappeared from her sight before she allowed her shoulders to slump. First James and now her father. Their words were making her thoughts confusing. She thought she knew who she was, but now, she wasn’t so certain.
Ian was the one to come retrieve her from her tent when it was time for her to face James, his expression solemn.
“Dinnae tell me,” she teased. “The laird wants fiery swords.”
Ian choked out a laugh. “Nay, yer sword will do well enough, Sister.”
She bumped her shoulder with his as they walked back to the sparring ring.
“Then why do ye look as if someone killed yer best horse?”
Ian stopped suddenly, gripping her sore arms with his hands.
“Tell me, Iris. Tell me that ye wish tae fight Lennox.”
“Of course I do,” she snapped. “I want tae win.”
“All yer life,” Ian continued, his eyes searching hers, “ye have been fighting, Iris. Ye have fought well, but if this is too much?—”
“Nay,” Iris cut him off, angered that he would think she would back down now. She had gotten this far, proved herself repeatedly to him and to all the other clans that she deserved a spot amongst the participants, but now he was telling her that she couldn’t handle this last match?
“I dinnae want tae think why ye are saying these things, but I’ve trained all mah life for this, Ian, and nothing is going tae stand in mah way of winning.”
Not even James. As much as she longed for him, she had to move past the thought of them being together, of them having the future and the family she had seen in her dreams, and face what truly was her life. She should have never kissed him, allowed him to do the things to her body.
He had allowed her to care for him. Iris, who never had a thought about caring for anyone in her life outside her family, was caring for a Scot she couldn’t even have. James made it all sound so simple with his proposition of running away, but it wasn’t what she could do at all.
He would never understand the lengths she had gone through during the night and in the dawn of the morning to push him out of her mind, to focus on what was supposed to be a grand day for her.
He was a weakness she couldn’t have today of all days.
Ian stared at her for such a long moment that Iris started to feel nervous under his intense gaze.
“Alright then,” he finally said, removing his hands from her arms. “I wilnae stand in yer way if this is wot ye want tae do. Let’s get this over with.”
Iris wanted to comment on Ian’s peculiar behavior, but as they drew closer, the crowds started to cheer and call out her name. She spied many of her father’s warriors amongst the crowd as they passed, a swell of pride growing in her chest. She had done it. She was on the last sparring match that could give her clan the victory!
It was what she had dreamed about since learning of the games, but her heart felt heavy regardless of what might happen today. It wasn’t a feeling she had anticipated, but it was one she could ignore somewhat.
Ian dropped back as Iris entered the ring, her chin held high as she did so. Iris knew that James had much with this match as well, and it only made her stomach knot with worry when she finally allowed herself to look at him.
He looked as weary as she felt, his gaze on her as she approached him. Iris was at a loss as to what to say to him, so she drew her sword from the scabbard at her back and held it aloft. Her heart wrenched in her chest, but she refused to let him see the emotions she was feeling, finding a smirk instead. She wasn’t going to be the lass that he had kissed so thoroughly only a few hours ago, the very one who had let down her guard and had her feelings all tangled up in a dangerous web.
“Well, Lennox?” she drawled, clenching the hilt of her sword, her palm sweating. “Are ye ready?”