87. Clash of Stone and Steel
Clash of Stone and Steel
Samhail
Samhail stared across the Citadel’s training yard the next day at the woman who’d twisted him in knots these last few weeks. She was still so beautiful despite, or perhaps because of, the murderous glint in her eyes.
The area around the yard had been cleared of guards and servants so no one would be able to see the fight.
Only Talyn, Cyra, Bressen, and the twins stood there at the moment.
Aidan, Jasper, and Maziren had gone back to Seatherny yesterday, and Axenus was – mercifully – away on another diplomatic mission for Bressen.
If Samhail had had to deal with Axenus’s sardonic looks on top of everything else, he would’ve snapped.
Bressen stepped in front of Samhail suddenly. The lord wasn’t tall enough to fully block his view of Talyn, but Bressen’s turquoise stare could be magnetic, and Samhail reluctantly tore his eyes from her.
“Should I ask what the fuck you were thinking?” Bressen asked.
Samhail huffed a laugh. “I have no idea what I was thinking.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this claiming thing before anyway? Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”
“When did you want me to bring it up? When we were cutting down soldiers on the battlefield, or afterwards when we were fucking women?”
Bressen inclined his head to concede the point. “Is there really no way to stop this now?” he asked.
“The only way is if Talyn changes her mind and accepts my claim, and she won’t do that. It’s part of the reason I…”
The words tapered off. He wasn’t sure he could confess what he felt for Talyn. Bressen knew him well enough, though.
“You actually love her, don’t you,” he said, surprised.
“Yes,” Samhail said without hesitation. He’d stopped trying to deny he loved Talyn days ago, stopped trying to convince himself that gargoyles couldn’t fall in love, because there was no denying he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her.
When she’d told him last night she was leaving and had refused to consider any plan that might allow them to stay together, he’d racked his brain to think of something to keep her here.
The only two options he’d come up with were locking her back in a cell under Tide’s End or claiming the right.
It had been a toss-up which would piss her off more, but he’d chosen the option he’d hoped against hope she might accept.
It hadn’t surprised him she’d immediately rejected the claim.
Ironically, part of him would’ve questioned his decision if she’d simply accepted it and hadn’t chosen to fight him on it.
He liked her fight, which only accorded with his belief that anything worth having was worth fighting for, even if it meant fighting the woman he wanted herself.
Bressen was quiet a moment. “You know if you win this fight, you’ll really lose her, right?”
Samhail growled in frustration. “I’m aware.”
“So what are you going to do?”
Samhail shrugged wearily. “Pray to the gods she beats me.” His eyes drifted back to where Talyn was speaking with Cyra now.
“I thought you couldn’t lose on purpose?” Bressen asked.
“I can’t. That’s why Surgeon and Serise are here. They have to certify the results, and if they think I’m losing on purpose, they can declare me in violation of the right.”
“And that’s bad?”
“I’d essentially be a pariah and a target among gargoyles.”
Bressen flinched. “So how are you going to ensure she wins without throwing the fight?”
Samhail’s eyes dropped to meet Bressen’s again. “You don’t think she can beat me,” he said, as if he just realized his brother felt this way.
Bressen raised a brow. “Can she?”
“That woman broke my nose and escaped Tide’s End without having her powers. She’s had me on my knees at least twice, and the last time she had both my own swords at my neck. There was nothing I could do but wait for her to kill me. I’m only here because she decided to let me live.”
Bressen’s expression was one of utter shock. “She almost killed you?”
Samhail lifted his chin and pointed to the faint scar lines on the middle of his throat where his own swords had cut him as Talyn tried to steady her shaking hands that day.
“Fuck me,” Bressen whispered, leaning in to look.
“She’s an excellent fighter, and her porting makes her hard to track.”
“Alright,” Bressen said, leaning back again. “So she has a chance. But just so I’m clear, the only thing you need to do is ensure she injures you grievously enough to declare her the winner without purposely allowing her to wound you?”
“Sounds about right.”
Bressen gave him a dubious look. “What the fuck were you thinking?”
Samhail smiled. “The issue is that I wasn’t thinking.”
“Or you were letting the wrong head make decisions?”
“That too,” Samhail said, shaking his head. “No offense to Cyra, but I’ve never been between a sweeter pair of legs than Talyn’s. I can’t even think straight when I’m fucking her.”
“Welcome to being in love, brother,” Bressen chuckled. “I can’t remember half of the first month with Cyra because I spent so much of it in a rapturous haze. Every time I was inside her I swear I forgot my own fucking name. I still do sometimes.”
Samhail chuckled as well. “I remember that haze, and I swore I’d never make the same mistake.” He sighed heavily. “At least you’re enjoying your madness. Let’s hope I live to enjoy my own.”
Talyn
Talyn was trying to read Samhail’s lips as he spoke to Bressen when Cyra appeared in front of her, capturing her attention.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cyra asked, her tone clearly indicating what she thought of the idea.
Talyn glowered at her. “No, of course I don’t want to do this, but I don’t have a choice.”
Cyra paused. “You could always just accept-”
“Accept his claim?” Talyn cut in.
Cyra nodded. “Why not?”
Talyn frowned. “Do you understand what you’re asking me to do? The man claimed me like I was a plot of land.”
Cyra shrugged. “He’s a gargoyle. I’ve learned to accept they have their own way of doing things.”
That brought Talyn up short, and she just stared at Cyra.
“Let me ask you,” Cyra said, “are you actually opposed to being with Samhail, or are you just opposed to the way he tried to make it happen?”
Talyn clenched her jaw. “I can’t be with a man who places so little value on letting me make my own decisions,” she said.
“As I understand it, you were planning to leave,” Cyra said. “It seems like he was trying to tell you he was willing to fight to keep you here.”
“He wasn’t fighting. He was claiming,” Talyn repeated.
Cyra gave her a frustrated look. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so, I know Samhail well enough to know he doesn’t want to own you. He likes you because you’re strong and because you challenge him. I’m willing to bet he expected you to reject the claim and fight him.”
Talyn went still as she considered that idea for the first time. Nemesis take her, Cyra was right. That was just the kind of backwards thing Samhail would do. He enjoyed fighting her, for the gods’ sakes. Leave it to him to find another way to get her to engage him in combat.
She wasn’t sure if that made her more or less angry at him.
“You never answered my question,” Cyra said, jolting Talyn out of her thoughts.
“What was your question?” Talyn asked, trying to remember.
“Are you actually opposed to being with Samhail?”
Talyn blinked. She hadn’t let herself consider that. She’d always known she couldn’t be with him for a multitude of reasons that now seemed unimportant. Whether or not she wanted to be with him didn’t feel like a question she had the luxury of asking herself.
Talyn opened her mouth to answer the lady – to say what, she had no idea – but Surgeon and Serise stepped forward then, cutting her off.
“Combatants, step forward!” Serise called out.
Talyn turned away from Cyra and walked over to meet Samhail in front of the twins.
“Samhail of Bragden, you’ve claimed the Right of Primacy over Talyn of Avril,” Surgeon said. “Talyn has rejected your claim and chosen to exercise her right of refusal by combat.”
Talyn scowled at the barely contained smile on Surgeon’s lips. He seemed to find it amusing Talyn had rejected his brother’s claim. It almost made her want to accept it just to wipe that look off the gargoyle’s face.
“Have you agreed on the terms of the battle?” Serise asked.
Talyn’s scowl deepened as she looked at Samhail. He hadn’t mentioned any terms to her beyond what he’d told her yesterday.
“We haven’t discussed them yet,” Samhail said, “but I propose that both weapons and powers be allowed.”
Talyn’s eyes widened. She didn’t realize the rules allowed opponents to determine things like whether weapons or powers could be used, but she did realize Samhail could’ve proposed they not be allowed to use their powers.
Her ability to port was the thing that gave her any chance against him, and he wasn’t trying to take it away from her.
It would mean Samhail could use his powers as well, so she’d have to watch out for that, but it was a huge boon to be able to port.
The weapons were also a blessing, albeit a lesser one.
Without a weapon, she’d be left to fight a man twice her size in hand-to-hand combat.
Back in her jail cell, she’d had the element of surprise against him, and the smaller quarters had played to her advantage against someone that big, but out here there was little she could do against him without a blade.
Something twisted in Talyn’s chest to realize he was giving her every possible chance to beat him.
“And what about-,” Serise began to ask, but Samhail cut her off.
“Talyn isn’t a gargoyle, so I won’t use my gargoyle form in any way,” he said. “Including my wings.”
Talyn’s mouth fell open to learn that after all this, he could still have opted to use his giant stone gargoyle form to fight her. Gods above. The fight would’ve been over before it started if he’d insisted on that.
Indeed, Surgeon frowned at Samhail.
“Brother, are you sure you-”