Page 11 of Lady Dragon
“Merard,” he called. “How about you try me? Make sure your swing is still true?”
Merard was the captain of the queen’s guard, just as Jamsens was the captain of the princess’s, and he stood in his place just behind the queen’s chair. Samansa swiveled to look, feeling herself bristling. While Jamsens had just fought, it was odd for Branon to single out Merard when he hadn’t volunteered. Was he trying to prove himself better protection than that with which the queen surrounded herself?
Or was his intention darker than that—more of a threat?
Merard gave a short bow of his head. “My duty is to the queen,” he said simply.
“And yet Jamsens tried to prove himself against me,” Branon argued from below. “Though perhaps he was pursuing more than duty, with regard to the princess.”
Laughter rose from the stands.Lords and ladies, Samansa thought. Was everyone certain how Jamsens felt about her but the princess herself?
“Come, is there anyone else willing to try me?” Branon asked, gesturing at the rest of the crowd. “Don’t force the princess to grant me her favor. We all know it’s not me whom she’d wish tobestow it upon. Although…” He paused, waiting for a pregnant moment. “Perhaps she can keep me from winning it… by fighting me, herself.”
Samansa’s breath left her in a rush. “What?” she squeaked, nearly bolting upright from her chair before she got herself under control. She forced a laugh, settling her hands atop her skirts and willing her racing heart to calm. “We’ve been over this, Branon. I can’t compete for my own favor.”
But what about your own honor?Samansa could practically hear the biting question forming on her brother’s lips. She hated him for it, even though he hadn’t yet spoken it.
And hated herself a little, for not having a ready answer.
“I can compete for her favor,” a different voice responded—one Samansa at first couldn’t believe.
Branon couldn’t seem to believe it, either, as he turned to the dragon girl in stark surprise.
Kirek stretched her legs out, her arms overhead—so much like a cat—before bounding to her feet. She didn’t stop there, her movements fluid as she gripped the banister of their stand and vaulted over it, landing lightly on the dirt of the arena.
“You know what beats rock?” the dragon girl murmured over her shoulder to the princess. “Moltenrock.”
Still awash in shock, Samansa didn’t know what to say. Kirek had already turned anyway, hefting her own practice blade and weighing in her palm, to face Branon.
And then, without waiting for the princess’s signal, the dragon girl charged him.
4
KIREK
Kirek kept her eyes only on Branon’s shoulders in anticipation of his attacks, not his sword, but she had seen it from the stands:
The new blade he held was sharp.
And he’d intended it for the princess. Challenging Merard first had been an obvious feint.
Kirek hadn’t hesitated as she’d risen to meet the challenge in Samansa’s stead. Not because she wanted to protect the princess, necessarily. She wanted to see what Branon would do against adragon.
Would he risk hurting Kirek? Would he risk betraying that the blade was sharp, claim it was an accident, as he had with the kick to Jamsens and as he no doubt would have done with the princess, after he’d cut her, or even killed her?
He stood no chance of killing Kirek, but would he risk thetreatybetween humans and dragons? Or would he shy from that edge, both real and imagined, and allow his own defeat? Either way, Kirek was ready for him. And either way, she would learn more about his intentions toward her, if she’d already guessed what they were toward the princess.
The dragon girl’s eagerness to find out more didn’t entirelyexplain the saliva flooding her mouth. How she wished she could bring her teeth to bear upon him instead of this dull blade.
Just before her charge reached Branon, Kirek launched off one powerful leg and leaped, sword flashing in the air above her, to descend on him. For a brief moment, Kirek felt the same sense of freedom, of release and unrestrained potential, that she felt when folding her wings and diving from thousands of feet in the air.
It was a bold move—it robbed her of mobility in this body, she knew, and left her midsection exposed. But Kirek didn’t care to display any show of swordsmanship, even if she could have. She was a dragon, and in her hands, her sword was the embodiment of her teeth and claws.
The speed and ferocity of her attack left Branon with no chance to gain the advantage. He brought his blade up in a purely reflexive parry, and the ringing sound of steel striking steel resounded so loudly that several members of the audience shrieked and covered their ears. Kirek felt the blow from her fingertips to her shoulders, but she didn’t let that stop her.
She’d barely landed on her feet where Branon had once been before she swept her sword away and around in a huge arc, slicing straight at his legs with enough force to cut him off at the knees, dull blade or not.
Branon only narrowly leaped out of the way in time, hissing and dancing back, bringing his sword up at his shoulder, pointing the blade at Kirek. Good thing, because she swung straight for his face next.
