Chapter Ten #2
The Festival of Sport promises to be a great bit of fun if nothing else.
There will be events for every magic school and class of fighting, but the event I’m most interested in is archery.
Larus didn’t want me to waste too much time on mastering the bow, considering I’m too small and weak to draw one over and over again on the battlefield, but shooting targets requires a lot less stamina, and it’s one of the few martial sports you can practice on your own.
I had a lot of time alone at the castle. I’m really, really good at it.
The next day, I make my way along with pretty much everyone else in the palace to a courtyard where the guards are collecting names on slates.
It’s a lovely summer day, and the courtyard itself is undeniably gorgeous, surrounded as it is by elaborately carved columns and archways of red and tan stone.
Creeping vines cover nearly every vertical surface in brightly colored flowers, while low bushes line the walkways in neat hedges.
I feel out of place in my Nithyrian leathers while everyone ambles about in their Selaran silks and linen tunics, drifting like petals on the breeze.
I pass by a table for the shadow-born trial. It doesn’t specify exactly what the test will be, and I’m tempted to find out, but I don’t want to draw more attention than necessary to the fact that I’m shadow-born.
Maybe I shouldn’t have blurted it out at the king, then.
Okay, my first couple of days in the palace weren’t my best. But to be fair, I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I’ve never been around nobles outside of Nithyria. I’ve never even been outside of Nithyria, and I’ve been dropped into the viper’s nest that is Ronan’s court.
I’m trying, and that’s what matters. That’s what Larus tells me, at least.
When I finally make it to the front of the line at the archery table, I recognize some of the other names on the list from Larus’s training about the members of the various houses.
Most of them fought in the war, so I imagine they’re all pretty good at standing in line and shooting people running at them with swords and fireballs.
But shooting at a bale of hay with a target painted on it from thirty paces in a courtyard? I doubt there’s anyone on this list who has done that as much as I have.
What else can I do? I glance at the other tables, trying to think strategically. Which events would Ronan compete in? What is most likely to get Ronan’s attention? What will give me the greatest chance to learn more about him?
I idly question the guards collecting names for the javelin throw and equestrian events, taking a look at the sign-up sheets as I do. Ronan’s name doesn’t seem to be on any of the lists. Maybe he won’t compete at all.
On the one hand, that makes sense. Who would be willing to truly give it their best effort against the king?
But on the other hand, maybe Ronan is afraid of what would happen if he failed. I would pay to see that. To watch someone best the God-King himself.
And I notice there isn’t a light-born trial at all, but from what I know, there would have only been two competitors anyway.
After the court has had their chance to sign up, the courtyard will be opened to the common people of Faros as well. Maybe I should wait around to see if Soren shows up. Or the missing shadow-born girl. Vesper? I think that was her name. I did promise I would keep an eye out for her.
I’m about to take a seat to wait for the commoners when I spot someone over at the registration for the trial of the blade. It’s the young woman from the day we met the king, the one with short red hair that Typhon was talking to. Possibly a friend of his, or maybe something more?
It's worth finding out. I head over to the table and hear her speaking to the guards.
“I don’t know why she’s even allowed to compete. She thinks she isn’t Selaran. If you’re not Selaran, why compete in a Selaran festival?”
Is she talking about me? She hasn’t even seen me.
No, I realize, looking at the slate. She’s talking about Adria.
“The tournament is open to all,” says the guard. It’s the friendly guard who gave me directions to the mask seller. I like this one.
“I’m just saying that it shouldn’t be. There are some types of people that shouldn’t be here at all.”
Adria and I may not be on the best of terms at the moment, but I’m not willing to stand around and listen to this nonsense. “Perhaps there are some types of people that are afraid of getting their asses handed to them.”
“Oh, look,” says the woman as she turns to face me, her narrow green eyes filled with scorn. “It’s Adria’s little bitch sister. I heard they kept you locked up with the other rabid Nithyrian animals.”
Rude and fucking dumb. You don’t lock up a rabid animal. You put it down.
If I say that to her, she’ll just say something about putting me down, and the last thing I need right now is to fight a duel against this woman. She’s lean and well-muscled, and of course she’s taller than me. And, despite a ton of training, I’m not the best with my sword.
“Maybe they did. Do you want to find out?” I ask, but instead of reaching for my sword, I reach for the chalk and add my name to the list.
The tournament swords will be blunted, and chances are I won’t have to face her anyway. I’ll probably be out in the first round.
But at least this should get me out of fighting her in this moment.
“Save it for the arena, ladies,” warns the guard. “God-King Ronan has made it clear that there are to be no duels in Faros during the festival.”
I actually hadn’t heard that, but I’m relieved to be hearing it now.
And I can’t help but wonder if it has anything to do with what happened to Soren last night.
“Of course,” says the woman, plastering on a fake smile for the guard. “Go back to your cage, little bitch,” she mutters to me, flicking her hand as if she’s dismissing a dog.
I look to the sheet to find the name of the woman I’m definitely going to kill when we take out Ronan: Quinn of House Horatio.
Typhon’s sister. The Grand Vizier’s youngest daughter.
I wait around the courtyard until the light begins to dim, but Soren doesn’t show.
I hadn’t really expected him to, although if I were the king, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to resist joining the tournament in disguise for a real chance to compete.
That’s if Soren really is the king. Which is a pretty big if.
I see no girl matching Vesper’s description either, but I don’t really know what I’m looking for. What if she changed her hair or took out her piercings? I wouldn’t know her even if I saw her.
I debate going back to the market. If I could find Soren, maybe he could give me more to go on. Or maybe he’s already found Vesper, and I’m worrying for nothing.
I can’t help but worry though. I know the worst that can happen to a shadow-born spy.
It happened to my mother.
I sigh. The market will be closing for the day soon anyway. I’ll have to try to find Soren and Vesper another time. After a day out in the sun of the courtyard, I’m sweaty in my leathers, so I head to the baths to rinse off.
My first visit to the baths was late at night when they were nearly empty.
I was grateful for the privacy; I’m not accustomed to bathing in the nude around strangers.
Back at the castle, we had a fire-born heat the water in copper tubs in bathing rooms attached to our bed chambers.
It was so luxurious sinking into the piping hot water after a long day training with Larus.
The baths here are natural pools within the caves beneath the palace. The water is beautifully clear though, and there are pools of different temperatures you can use depending on your mood.
I undress in a chamber made from a smaller cave, leaving my leathers on hooks on the wall and wrapping in a towel made of finely-woven linen. It’s wonderfully soft on the skin. The changing room is busy with courtiers I don’t know and who I know don’t want to know me.
That’s fine. We have plenty of time to change their minds.
I head to one of the cooler pools. The temperature is lower down here, but the heat of the sun seems to linger on you in Faros.
There are only a few women in this pool, and they’re sitting at the opposite end talking quietly among themselves.
I sink into the water, letting my hair down from its bun and diving beneath the surface to wash the day off of me.
Before I can relax, I hear muffled shouting from under the water. I surface, and I recognize one of the voices immediately: Adria.
I climb out of the pool and dry off as quickly as I can. I’ve barely gotten the towel around me when I catch a whiff of smoke. There’s another voice yelling, also a woman. It sounds familiar, but I don’t recognize it until I get close enough to hear her words.
“I told that bitch sister of yours the same thing,” says Quinn. It’s her again. This woman is everywhere.
“Leave her out of this. This is between you and me,” says Adria.
I round the corner and see them. They’re standing across the water in the hot room, both of them wearing only towels. They’re unarmed, at least, but Adria is fire-born, and that means she’s still dangerous.
And, judging by the flame she’s twisting in her fingertips, Quinn is fire-born too.
Great.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice echoing in the cave.
“Stay out of it,” says Adria.
“Too afraid to fight me alone?” asks Quinn.
“Hardly,” says Adria.
“If you had dicks, I’d tell you to get them out.”
All three of us look around for the speaker. A woman rises slowly from the steaming hot pool. She’s old, with curly grey hair that has gone straight at the wet ends and sagging, wrinkled breasts.
She doesn’t reach for a towel. Instead, she hobbles naked over to Quinn, who is closer to her. She draws herself up as tall as she can. She barely reaches the top of Quinn’s towel, but it doesn’t seem to bother her any. “Stop this ridiculous display. You are of noble blood.”