Chapter Six
When he woke in the morning, Penli almost felt like himself again. Unfortunately, it was the himself he’d tried to lose, the him that felt cold and distant and very much separate from the rest of the world. Shanna had been the one to draw out pieces of him he’d thought lost, had brought him back to the world of the living and given him the motivation to live as he’d always wanted before the war whittled him down to hard edges and a cold demeanor.
What was the point in being a flower, however, when really he was the wasp nobody noticed until it was too late?
A waiting note had notified him to be ready for archery and combat. Eschewing the beautiful clothes he was not, for once, in the mood to wear anyway, Penli picked out something that suited both tests: leather armor, fitted pants, kneehigh boots, and a sleeveless tunic. On his right arm he wore the special elbow-length glove meant for archers, momentarily cheered by the familiar feel of it, curling his fingers simply to feel the leather covering the middle two.
On his left arm he wore a metal bracer that buckled in place and attached to a fingerless leather glove. On his upper arms he wore only metal bands intricately worked with birds, butterflies, and flowers. Finally, he wove his numerous braid into a single tight braid that left it falling to just short of the middle of his back.
The supple, worn leather hilt of his favorite sword still felt familiar in his grip, depressing him further. Tucking away a few more supplies, and settling his buckler on his back, he picked up his unstrung longbow and headed out.
When he reached the great hall, everyone else was waiting, though it looked as though Tishasanti had also only just arrived. Adnan made a sweeping gesture, and the group headed out, leading Penli and Tishasanti out of the palace and across the courtyard and several more buildings and yards. Eventually they reached the enormous complex that belonged to the royal military—including a massive, intricate training yard, part of which was an obstacle course that could be altered to suit almost any training. It was a far cry from the small training yard Penli had been using infrequently since his arrival.
Right then, it had been set up for terrain archery. Penli almost laughed, but that would have been rude, and he had also been recently reminded of the follies of arrogance and complacency. He didn’t need another refresher quite yet.
That being said, the obstacle course before him was ridiculously easy—at least for him. It was not the sort of course meant for people who did most of their training in the heavy, mazelike woods of the Trinira Mountains or the Bekkart Plains. Not that archery in a desert environment was easy, but it wasn’t dense woods in the middle of the night either.
Penli went to the starting point when one of the soldiers in charge of the course indicated he should. At the man’s nod, he strung his longbow, relishing the flex and strain in muscles he’d not used for entirely too long. Since his broken arm had healed, he’d worked hard to get it back into fighting shape, so to speak, but he’d done so by other means, preferring not to draw attention if he could help it—and he always drew attention on the archery field. Shooting things with arrows was the only thing he loved more than clothes.
“Challengers!” Hajar roared out across the open field, fierce as any commander in the moments before a battle. “Your first test of the day is archery. There are twenty targets you must hit as you run through the course, and you have three minutes to do it. Best of twenty wins the test. Failure to complete the course in the allotted three minutes is an automatic loss, unless both parties fail to complete it, in which case the final score determines the winner. Lord Tishasanti, since you were the victor of the last test, you have the honor of going first.”
Tishasanti bowed and murmured platitudes, but given his general inability to hide what he was thinking, it was obvious to everyone that he did not consider going first much of an honor. Nevertheless, he took the bow a servant had strung for him, settled into starting position, and at the sound of the gong took off running.
Penli watched from his own starting point, noting all the little things Tishasanti did wrong that cost him the higher scores time and again. A couple of times he pulled it off, though it was likely more luck than skill. He also barely reached the finish line in time, and it was gratifying to see he was so exhausted he collapsed to his knees.
After a few more minutes, the nearby soldier signaled Penli. He took the starting position, and at the gong, sped into action.
Terrain archery generally entailed running through a forest course, seeking out the targets that were usually hidden high, low, and every manner of in-between on trees, rocks, the ground, even all the way at the top of some waterfalls and cliffs.
The course he was running tried to emulate much of that, but simply the fact the ground was mostly flat, at worst a bit of up and down and small jumps, made the whole affair almost childishly easy.
Penli finished the course in under two minutes, with eighteen bullseyes and two near-marks that made him angry, though given how much his still-recovering body screamed at him in agony, it was a decent performance.
The final touch was that, despite the pain tearing through him, he managed to stay on his feet.
He didn’t need to look at Tishasanti to know the hateful look he was casting. Penli could practically feel it, and for the first time in days, he was almost in a good mood.
Once the officials were finished with the tally, Hajar motioned for Tishasanti and Penli to come to the royal dais. Penli climbed the steps and bowed; beside him Tishasanti did the same.
“You have both performed well,” Hajar replied, “but I do not think it surprises anyone that the victory goes to Lord Penli.”
Tishasanti sneered. “What is the fairness in a test so obviously meant to favor him?”
“You mean the way the endurance test favored you?” Hajar asked coldly. “I hope you are not implying that anyone is cheating, Lord Tishasanti.”
“No, Your Majesty,” Tishasanti said hastily. “My apologies.”
She stared at him a moment longer, then finally gave the barest of nods. “On to the next test, then, my lords. Fetch your swords, for your next test is a duel. You will fight until somebody surrenders or is incapable of continuing. Fortify yourselves, for the test begins in an hour.”
Penli bowed low and, at her signal, departed for the small tent that had been set up for him. Servants came with food and drink, cool water, and soft cloths to wipe away sweat and soothe the worst of the heat.
Throughout everything, Penli had avoided looking at Teia and Sendaar, something he regretted now because he would have liked to know if they were impressed with his performance. On the other hand, by this point they might consider Tishasanti the lesser of two evils.
Shanna’s admonition rang through his mind, but even her exceptional advice could not override the looks on their faces.
He buried the thoughts. They wouldn’t help him, and right now he needed focus. Dueling was not his strong suit; he was trained in more covert methods of dealing with people. Direct violence was a last resort. Still, he was a soldier, and he would persevere as all soldiers did.
Thanking the people who had tended to him over the last hour and leaving a pile of coins for them to share, he left the temporary sanctuary of his tent and headed out to the dueling ring next to the high walls of the obstacle course.
Tishasanti stood on the far side of the ring, large and looming, a formidable opponent as much as it pained Penli to admit it.
He looked toward the dais that had been set up far to his left. Kallaar looked cocky and assured, Ahmla watched with his quiet patience, and Shanna glared at him in silent admonition not to let her down or that “or else” would return.
Teia watched him with sad, haunted eyes, and Sendaar looked equally distressed for all his expression was blank.
Penli didn’t know what to make of them. Were they worried about him winning? Worried he would lose? If only he could tell them they had nothing to fear. If it was the last thing he did, he would ensure their freedom. So they would never again have to depend on the generosity of a near stranger to save them from a torturous marriage.
As easy as that, the answer to the final challenge came to him. He was left as bereft as excited, but he’d never gone into this for himself. Well, no, that wasn’t true. He’d very much hoped for things he didn’t want to fully admit to, but if he could free them, that would be enough.
He stepped into the ring and pulled his buckler from his back. Attaching it to his left forearm, he flexed and swung the arm until everything felt properly settled. Then he drew his sword and waited.
Across from him, Tishasanti was wielding a full-sized shield, and a larger sword. But that was typical of them: Tishasanti used his strength and endurance; Penli used his speed and dexterity. If Penli had been more of a bastard, or Tishasanti less of one, they would have been close friends and an unstoppable force.
Instead, it was only the rules and the repercussions that would follow that were keeping this duel from being to the death.
“Challengers!” Hajar threw out her arms. “Your final test of the second challenge: a duel to defeat. You know the rules. Breaking a single one is an automatic loss. May the most worthy suitor win. Begin!”
Penli braced as Tishasanti charged.
Tishasanti came at him hard, all fire and fury—but he’d always been the strike fast and hard sort, when he could not threaten, bribe, or trick someone else into doing his dirty work for him.
Penli was nowhere near Tishasanti’s weight or muscular ability, but he was no lightweight either, and he had all the experience that years of covert military life could give him. If Tishasanti was the blazing heat of his desert home, Penli was the frigid winds of his mountains.
But two such sharp contrasts did not make for an easy fight.
Penli blocked a swing with his sword and slammed his buckler into Tishasanti’s face, sending blood pouring down his tunic. Tishasanti snarled and attacked with increased fury. Though Penli was fast, he didn’t move in time to completely avoid his swing. He swore as the tip sliced open his right cheek, giving him a bath of blood to match Tishasanti’s.
“Bastard,” Tishasanti garbled. “I should have thrown you in that river when I had the chance.”
“You should have,” Penli replied, grunting as his buckler took a hit. He shifted his weight and kicked out, landing a hit on Tishasanti’s thigh, which helped, but wasn’t the cock shot he’d been hoping for. He dodged and rolled as Tishasanti surged forward and only just regained his feet in time to block another blow.
It ended up slicing his left arm, adding more blood to the mess, but it also gave him an opening to add a superficial, but annoying wound to Tishasanti’s right leg.
He blocked, feinted—and barely dodged as Tishasanti’s own feint worked almost too well.
Baring his teeth, Tishasanti swung out with his shield, clipping Penli’s shoulder enough to send him stumbling back a few paces, then slamming it against him hard. Penli barely turned his head in time to avoid getting his still-healing nose broken all over again. But the blow left him with an aching head, ringing ear, and a shoulder that throbbed with pain.
Penli bellowed as Tishasanti came in for a hard swing, barely lifting his buckler in time to block it—and going down hard when Tishasanti swung his shield as well, barreling into Penli and knocking him flat on the ground. Penli slammed a foot into his groin, rolled and regained his feet, then lifted his shield again just in time to block another blow from Tishasanti’s sword.
Thankfully, the finally-successful groin hit slowed Tishasanti down just enough. Penli knocked him back slightly and slammed his buckler into Tishasanti’s face again. Tishasanti screamed in agony—but the bastard still didn’t go down.
Penli didn’t wait for the charge this time, but met him full-on in the center of the ring—and then dodged and blew right by him. Swinging around, he slammed the flat of his blade down on Tishasanti’s shield arm hard enough the shock made him drop it, then kicked his knee out, forcing him down.
Tishasanti brought his sword up, but Penli knocked it away with his buckler and swung his own sword—
Only for Tishasanti to grab it in one gauntleted hand as his free hand slammed into Penli’s jaw at the same time he drove a knee up, though thankfully he got Penli’s thigh instead of his delicate bits.
Penli stumbled back, lost his footing, and crashed to the ground. He rolled away as Tishasanti’s sword came slamming down, then lunged up and threw himself forward, sending them both to the ground—his sword at Tishasanti’s throat. “Yield, you rotted piece of dog shit.”
“Better dog shit than a glorified murderer,” Tishasanti hissed, but though he struggled, he couldn’t get the leverage to break free of Penli’s hold.
“And yet your betrothed still prefers the murderer,” Penli replied as he pressed the sword harder against his throat and snarled, “Yield!”
Tishasanti bared his bloody teeth again. “I hope they take your money and run. It’s all you’re good for.”
“Better than being the person nobody will miss when he dies.”
“I hope you die alone and miserable, Penlington.” Louder, Tishasanti bellowed, “I yield!”
Penli relaxed his hold and started to rise, and Tishasanti kicked out hard, sending him stumbling, falling away. He landed hard on his back, the breath knocked right out of him, sword clattering to the ground, his hand sore from how tightly he’d been holding it throughout the duel.
Groaning, Penli rolled over and pushed to his feet, retrieved and sheathed his sword, then slowly, painfully, limped his way to stand in front of the dais.
Cheers filled the air, making it impossible for Hajar to speak for several minutes. Eventually, however, he finally quieted the crowd enough to declare, “Lord Penli, you are the winner of the final test, and victor of the second challenge. Well done.”
Penli barely remembered to smile and nod and bow and speak in all the right places, too exhausted and in pain to really focus. He was bleeding and bruised and broken. When Hajar finally stopped talking, he could have wept as people came up to help him make it to the healers’ hall.
The healers clucked and frowned and fussed but got him comfortably settled in a private room and inundated him with medicine. Again. Penli was getting sick of needing healers. Thanking them groggily, he let the drugs sweep him into sweet oblivion.
He woke briefly a few hours later and felt the familiar press of Shanna’s hand holding his, registered her voice as she said his name. Then he was gone again.
When he woke later, far more cognizant of his surroundings, he was alone, though a beautiful bouquet of white roses and night blooming jasmine had been left in an earthen vase beside his bed. They lent a pleasant, sweet perfume to the air, dredged up a smile he would have thought himself still too tired to manage. Who had left them?
He didn’t dare get his hopes up about the answer to that question and abandoned it instead.
Footsteps drew his attention, and he watched as the door swung open to admit a young, handsome woman who broke into a smile as she saw him. “Good morning, my lord. It’s good to see you awake.”
“How long was I asleep? Surely I was not that badly wounded.”
The woman pursed her lips. “On the contrary, my lord, you were severely wounded. People so often seem to think that only a single massive wound can hurt, but enough small wounds can amount to the same, and those you had in alarming number, never mind the beating you’d already endured. You’ve been drifting in and out of consciousness for the better part of two days. It’s a wonder you didn’t collapse sooner than you did.”
Penli made a face. “I see. Well, thank you for saving me from my fool self, darling.”
Laughing, the woman replied, “It was an honor to help you. We’ve heard all about how fiercely you are fighting for a claim on Lord Teia. It’s quite romantic; nobody has called a challenge in decades! I wish you the best, my lord.”
“Thank you.” Penli mustered a genuine smile, because his woes were not her problem, and why ruin her good mood and insult her well wishes with the hard reality that Teia and Sendaar likely no longer wanted him—if they had at all, past the bedroom delights he could offer. “I do not suppose I am well enough to return to my own rooms and get out of your way? I am certain you have more important things to do than fuss over an old fool like me.”
That set her to giggling, but after a moment she recovered and bustled off to arrange his return.
Surprising him not in the slightest, Shanna appeared to escort him personally. Penli heaved a sigh but went along complacently until they were alone. “Your doting husband and lover didn’t insist on accompanying you?”
“They wanted to come, if only to protect you from Tishasanti’s wrath, but I did not think you would appreciate feeling so crowded. They comprised by issuing guards to stand watch.”
“I see.” Penli sighed. “How are Teia and Sendaar?”
“Worried sick about you. They left those flowers you know—and I arranged to have them moved to your bedroom.”
Penli nodded in thanks, stomach churning, chest aching, at the thought they had been worried about him. “I hope you assured them I’m quite well and have done this before—many a time before, in fact.” He sighed again. “I had hoped I would not be doing it again. Please tell me Tishasanti is worse off. I am afraid I do not remember the whole fight clearly, only that it was as nasty as I feared it would be.”
Shanna shuddered, and for a moment it looked as though she might cry. “It was terrifying to watch.”
Penli flinched.
“Not because of you!” Shanna added hastily. “That is, not because you were fighting the way you’ve been trained to. I meant it was so obvious you and Tishasanti hate each other that he would have killed you if he could have. And I know how much you wanted to leave all the violence behind, so I hate you’ve been forced to take it up again.” She picked up his hand and kissed the palm. “I’m so sorry, Penli. You didn’t deserve all this, and I hate to see you so battered and sad.”
“Cinnamon cake, there’s no ‘deserving’ involved. I asked, I volunteered, I agreed. I knew the risks. Knew them better than anyone else, really, given this is hardly the first time Tishasanti and I have attempted to kill one another. I doubt it will be the last.” He grimaced. “But I did not mean to cause so much upheaval, or make a nuisance of myself in your new home—as your guest, and a guest seeking asylum at that.” He scrubbed at his face. “Honestly, I’ve no idea what came over me. This sort of behavior is not remotely typical of me.”
“Oh, I think romance has always been typical of you, my darling champion,” Shanna said, and giggled at his scathing look. “Do not try to deny it.”
Penli sighed again, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence the rest of the way through the palace. Once in his room, Shanna chatted about the minor goings on he had missed, how happy everyone was to see him win the challenge. How very worried and miserable Teia and Sendaar had been. “They desperately wanted to see you, but are abiding very strictly by the rules. I think they’re afraid a single misstep and they will lose you.”
“I see,” Penli said, recalling how eager they’d been to flout the rules before. If he’d needed any confirmation that they were as eager to see the back of him as they were Tishasanti…
“Whatever doubts are spinning through your head, abandon them,” Shanna said sharply as she ushered him into bed. “When are you going to listen to me and talk to them before you decide to dramatically throw yourself off the cliff of self-sacrifice?”
“I’m sorry, which of us ran away to a monastery and wore those dreadful wool monstrosities they call robes for months?”
Shanna sniffed. “Precisely. You may be older, but in this I am wiser. Talk to them before doing something stupid, like sulking yourself to death. They left you flowers, dear heart, doesn’t that tell you anything?” Sure enough, the bouquet from the healers’ hall was already in his bedroom. Shanna drew out a small spray of jasmine and brushed his cheek with it before pushing it into his hand. “Get some rest. I’ll come by tonight with dinner and we’ll talk more. Do you know what you’re doing for the final challenge?”
“Yes, but there are papers I still need to sign. They should have arrived by now.”
“I’ll take care of it.” She kissed his cheek and fussed with the blankets. “I hope this all ends the way you want it to, Penli. You deserve happiness more than anyone I know.”
“Thank you, sunshine, but I have always been content with you and my quiet life.”
She said nothing, only kissed his cheek again before bidding him sweet dreams and sweeping off.
Penli held the spray of night blooming jasmine to his nose, savoring the sweet scent of it and thinking wistfully of things that would never happen, and was soon swept into equally impossible dreams.