Chapter Eleven

Ariana stood in the courtyard with the rest of her family, nerves coiling in the pit of her stomach. She had spent the morning being tended to by her lady-in-waiting, having her hair combed, her dress fitted, and her face coloured so she could be put on display like a pig at market. It seemed pointless to her, she knew she wasn’t pretty, but she hadn’t wasted any time arguing about it. She had been expecting it and knew it was pointless. It had seemed as if the day was still far-off until a couple of days ago, when it had somehow snuck up on her. Today was the day King Uric arrived, and with him, her potential husband.

In preparation, the castle had been cleaned and decorated, with blue and silver Farhorn banners being hung, and new furniture brought in so that the castle would be fit to house a second royal family. Servants were standing ready to attend to them as soon as they arrived, and all of the Bloodsworn would be working full hours for the duration of his stay. Her father was clearly keen to impress the visiting king, and seemed to be paranoid that if things weren’t perfect then Uric would walk out on the signing of the treaty. She started as her mother touched her on the shoulder, distracting her from her thoughts.

“Feeling alright?”

Ariana nodded. It was just fear of the unknown. If he turned out to be truly horrible she could just point blank refuse. Her father would be furious, but he could hardly hold a knife to her throat and make her marry him if she really couldn’t go through with it. The watcher standing above the large grey stone gateway sounded a short yet loud note on his trumpet.

“They’re in the city,” acknowledged Maddon. “You know, if we just killed him now and took his lands it would be so much less hassle.”

Ariana bit back a nervous laugh, and their mother whacked him lightly across the head.

“Behave, that’s not funny,” she scolded.

A cry went up from the gateway, and the wheels of the King’s carriage could be heard clattering against the road’s cobbles along with the clopping hooves. It entered at a leisurely pace, stopping halfway up the path. The carriage was large and extravagant, jet black with gold trim and silver studs, pulled by two impressively large horses. On the doors were the Darrowmere coat of arms, two crossed swords, encircled by a golden crown which had been added after the succession dispute. Following them was an almost never-ending stream of men travelling on horseback, most of them armed.

“Is he planning to try and take over the castle?” asked Maddon incredulously. “That must be about a hundred men.”

“He’s just being careful, we should be thankful he’s even willing to come,” said their father.

The carriage doors opened, and down stepped the King and his son. Uric Darrowmere was a very large man who clearly kept himself in good shape. He was dressed formally, in green and black ceremonial dress, with a thin gold circlet on his head. More interesting was his left eye, or what mess remained of it. There was almost certainly an interesting story behind that. Perhaps it was just the wound, but there was definitely a sense that he was not a man you ever wanted to fight.

Fendred on the other hand was tall and slim, athletically built, with short black hair and sharp, pointed features. He was attractive, noticed Ariana. He walked confidently, seeming far less threatening than his father, and followed by some of their guards, they approached the other set of royals, Fendred slightly behind his father. Ariana curtsied, and everyone except her father either did likewise or bowed.

“It is good to see you again in better circumstances,” said King Berin, stepping forwards to shake Uric’s hand firmly.

“Indeed,” replied the King, a humourless smile on his face. “Let’s hope that it never comes to that again. As I’m sure you know, this is my eldest son, Fendred.”

“A fine young man,” said Berin approvingly. “May I introduce my wife Helena, my brother John, and my children, Ariana, and Maddon.”

“It is my pleasure,” replied Uric, kissing Helena’s hand and then delicately taking Ariana’s. She tried to smile as he kissed it, while inwardly she couldn’t help this feeling of revulsion. Part of it may have been his mangled eye, but she also thought there was something very predatory in the way he looked at her as he bent down. Thankfully, the moment was over quickly, and he moved on to shake the princes’ hands as he greeted them confidently.

He moved on to Maddon, who Ariana could tell was suspicious, despite his neutral expression.

“So you’re planning to be the next King in Rivergate?” laughed Uric when he got to him. “Let’s hope you’re stronger in mind than you look in body, eh? But I hear that’s not a worry for you, you’ll be a fine ruler.”

Uric then went on to greet Prince John’s side of the family, person by person. Fendred was more reserved, merely bowing once.

“It is wonderful to meet all of you,” he said, a small smile on his face as he briefly caught Ariana’s eye. “I look forward to getting to know you while we’re here.”

There had definitely been something suggestive in his voice, and despite herself, she felt a small flutter in her stomach, and for a moment dared to hope that things were going to turn out well. There was none of the disdain or contempt that she had feared. Perhaps with the dress and the work her lady-in-waiting had done this morning she didn’t look so bad. She had to remind herself not to get carried away. She knew nothing about him, and shouldn’t assume anything just because he was attractive and happened to smile at her. She still had no desire to marry someone she didn’t know, and had only gone this far without making a fuss so that the King would let her take part in the tournament.

“Well, now the introductions are done, we can get your men and horses accommodated and fed,” said her father, signalling servants over, keen to get things moving along. “The reserve barracks will have space, I can have some of my men show yours the way.”

Uric nodded.

“I’ll take ten of my men in with me,” he stated. “I assume that is no inconvenience to you?”

“None at all,” assured Berin. “Now, if you’ll join me, there is a feast to be had.”

***

Ariana cut up another piece of the gravy-covered boar meat, forked some roast potato, and chewed it slowly as conversation bubbled around her in the candlelit dining hall. It was, of course, delicious, and she wished she could just sit there and savour it, but she was finding that difficult.

“Wonderful food, wouldn’t you say?” asked Fendred, who was sat at her right. Ariana nodded.

“Yes, very good,” she agreed. What else was there to say? She wasn’t used to meeting new people. She hardly spoke to anyone outside of her family. She and her cousin Seraphina had never got on as children was the last person she would choose to speak to. She had a lady-in-waiting who she felt close to but she was under an obligation to stay with her. Her best friend was Quinlan, but he was technically her cousin anyway, although due to his lowborn status he had not been asked to wait with them earlier to meet the King, and was now sat on the far end of the table. At least he was with the family now. Her mother had insisted, and so he was sat on the outside of the other cousins, next to Seraphina. Ariana was at the end of her table, so only had Fendred to worry about.

“So you’ll be in the tournament then?” she asked, feeling like she should make an effort with the conversation. Fendred nodded, a slight smile on his face.

“I am indeed,” he said. “I’m looking forward to facing a new set of opponents, I don’t get to see many new people in Grenfell. Will you be watching?”

“Well I should get a good view from inside the arena,” she said.

“Oh, you’re taking part?” asked Fendred, surprised. “Your father must be a tolerant man.”

“Well he’s just doing what’s fair,” she replied, meeting his eyes to challenge him to defy that.

“As you say,” he replied, taking a sip of his wine, his eyes glancing around the hall. The room was spacious, with a large crackling fireplace behind them, sending soft waves of heat washing against their backs. The royal table was a step higher than the tables further in front of them, which consisted of some Lords and Ladies of the court and a select few of Uric’s men. Meanwhile on Fendred’s other side, the two Kings were talking.

“Your arm seems to be paining you,” noted Uric, as Berin cut his meat with a slight grimace.

“Just a hunting injury,” replied the King, who Ariana supposed was technically not lying. “And your hand?”

He gestured to the other King’s left hand, which he had avoided using while eating. It had a large and ugly pink scar in the centre of it.

“Well as I’m sure you’re aware, Kings always make enemies,” shrugged Uric. “Someone shot an arrow at me, hit my hand, and knocked it back into my eye.”

He mimed hitting himself in the face with the back of his hand, lining up his scar with the missing eye, and laughed

“Lost some of the movement in it after that, but it’s still useful in a fight,” he continued, using his injured hand to pick up his goblet of wine and drain it, a few drops of red running from his mouth. “The man who fired the arrow though...well he didn’t live long to regret it. More wine!”

“I wouldn’t expect so, going after someone like you,” laughed Berin, signalling a servant over.

Ariana shook her head in exasperation.

“He’s trying so hard to keep your father happy, it’s too much,” she muttered to Fendred.

“And mine is doing his best to act big and impose himself,” sighed the prince, leaning closer and speaking in a low voice so that his father wouldn’t hear him, enough that she could feel his breath on her ear. “Just wait until he gets more wine in him.”

Ariana smirked, and tried not to react to how close Fendred had come. It was disconcerting, especially with all of these people around. She kept expecting him to realise who he was talking to and suddenly shun her, but it wasn’t happening. Suddenly it all became very real. She could actually end up marrying him. She had known that of course, but it hadn’t felt real when the prospective husband who she had never met was off in another kingdom. Now, she was starting to picture it, and it was terrifying.

Ariana drank some more of her wine, hoping to replace the nerves with a more pleasant drink-induced buzz. Uric however, had been drinking steadily during the meal, and had become impatient, slamming his again empty goblet down on the table.

“How about some entertainment then?” suggested Uric, a gleam of excitement in his eye as he turned to Berin. “One of my men against one of yours.”

“If that would please you,” agreed Ariana’s father hesitantly. “Shall I ask for the training weapons to be brought in?”

“No need for that, Shaldar is happy to fight with real weapons aren’t you?” asked the King exuberantly, as the man came to stand by his side. He nodded once, with little expression.

“Poor bastard has no tongue,” said Uric. “But he’s a good fighter. It would take a lot to make him submit in a duel.”

For the first time, Fendred looked uncomfortable.

“Father, let’s not do this here, we’re their guests, and I doubt anyone would want to risk a real fight,” insisted the prince.

“Nonsense,” said King Berin. “Our Bloodsworn are very able fighters, I guarantee you we’ll find a worthy competitor.”

The King sent someone off, while tense and excited chatter ran around the room.

“I’m sorry about this,” said Fendred hastily. “He can’t be reasoned with. I don’t know why he has to be like this.”

“It’s fine,” said Ariana, feeling a genuine affection for him as he worried over the new development. He was clearly a different man to his father, which was something Ariana could appreciate.

As Uric’s man Shaldar checked his weapons, a long curved blade and a dagger, his Bloodsworn opponent arrived, led by the servant. He was of similar height but very different in appearance. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, with more brawn than his opponent. As was usual for the Bloodsworn, he was clad in a red cloak and armed with a halberd as his primary weapon, although he had a sword on his waist and a shield on his back to go to if that weapon was lost.

“Ah yes, this is Asher,” said Berin. “He’s only in his fifth year of official service but he’s one of the best. He won last year’s Bloodsworn tournament.”

“What’s that?” asked Fendred quietly. Ariana leaned close to explain.

“Since the majority of the Bloodsworn are trained almost constantly as soon as they can hold a sword and because there are so many of them they don’t take part in the usual tournaments, so they stage their own each year,” she explained.

“I wish you a good fight Asher,” smiled Uric, nodding his head. The man bowed in response, and made his way to the wide space in between the royal and the other tables, where Shaldar faced off against him two yards away. Both drew their weapons.

Ariana was transfixed, as was the entire room. These two were actually going to fight with real weapons. The size of the blade on the halberd sent shivers down her spine, and the heavy weapon was accompanied by a heavy mail shirt, with metal helmet, greaves, gauntlets and boots.  Meanwhile Shaldar only wore light leather armour and seemed to move like a serpent, with an equally predatory and compassionless expression. She knew it was wrong, but she didn’t think she would feel any pity for him if Asher did have to kill him to win the fight. Asher looked to the royal table for a signal, and Berin opened his mouth to speak.

“Begin!” cried Uric, getting there first.

Shaldar made the first attack, darting forwards with a potentially lethal slash that was parried upwards. He tried to follow up the move with a stab from the dagger but Asher dodged away, and the two faced off again, slowly circling.

“How good is Shaldar?” asked Ariana, without taking her eyes off the fighters.

“I’ve seen him fight about a dozen times and you should count yourself lucky if you just survive a fight with him,” said Fendred, sounding disillusioned.  

Asher went for a stab with the spike of the halberd which his opponent deftly dodged, then had to raise the pole in defence of a slash, angling it to hit against the wrist of his knife hand as it stabbed forwards as well. The two of them feinted, attacked and parried, both of them doing an incredible job of defending themselves from the attacks of the other.

Shaldar launched a new series of attacks, swinging his blade while constantly keeping moving. Asher was standing his ground in the centre of the space while Shaldar attacked. He was doing a good job, but his opponent was very quick to dodge his attacks. As they watched, Shaldar went for a wide slash, spinning out of the way of the counterattack and embedding the knife in Asher’s arm. To his credit, Asher only grunted, and while he was close he lifted his knee to launch a savage kick into Shaldar’s side, powerful enough to knock him into a table, rattling the cutlery. Asher took the opportunity to remove the bloodied knife and toss it behind him.

Uric laughed and clapped, enjoying the spectacle. Asher looked angry now, and it clearly pained him to hold the halberd. Shaldar recovered himself and squared off against Asher again.

“Do you submit?” he asked, stepping towards Uric’s man, blood dripping from his arm. Shaldar responded by lunging towards his opponent. Asher didn’t try to block with his weapon but stepped towards his attacker and turned, swinging the halberd round as the shield on his back deflected Shaldar’s blade and Asher shoved into him, knocking him back as he swung. The back part of the blade, designed for pulling mounted men off their horses, hooked around Shaldar’s ankle and pulled him off his feet so that his back slammed into the ground. Asher stepped forwards, kicking him brutally in the face with an armoured boot and stamping on his right hand to keep him from swinging his weapon again. He held the point of the halberd against his neck, putting just enough pressure on to draw blood.

“How about now?” panted Asher.

Shaldar spat out half a bloody tooth onto the floor, but said nothing and didn’t move.

“Oh you can’t talk, that’s right,” said the Bloodsworn guard, lifting his weapon slightly. “Submit?”

The man nodded, glaring, and Asher stepped away, grimacing as he dropped his weapon and examined his arm. Applause broke out among the spectators, and even Uric begrudgingly praised him.

“That was well done,” he admitted. “Perhaps Grenfell should start taking the unwanted children to train as guards as well.”

“Thank you for doing the Kingdom proud,” said Berin. “You will be duly rewarded, and I shall have my physician examine both of you.”

Asher bowed his thanks, and left to have his arm seen to. Shaldar managed to get to his feet unaided and left the room, a bitter expression on his face.

“Wow,” murmured Ariana, almost in shock. “Does your father get him to do that kind of thing a lot?”

“More than I’d like,” sighed Fendred. “Although it doesn’t normally end with Shaldar getting a beating; that was impressive from your man.”

“It certainly was,” she agreed, as a servant mopped away the blood from the floor. Her heartbeat was just beginning to return to its normal pace. She glanced over at Fendred, who was angled towards her as he hesitated over saying something. She raised her eyebrows, feeling the nerves return again as she again remembered that this could be the man she married.

“As I’m not taking part in the jousting, would you like to sit with me that day?” he asked.

She felt her face flush as he looked at her.

“Yes, that would be nice,” she found herself saying. Fendred smiled.

rs

Next Chapter: Chapter Twelve