Page 9 of Lady Dragon
“The point is to put their fighting skills on display for us without mortally wounding valuable members of the nobility,” the princess said, feeling her jaw tighten in exasperation.
“In my realm, when one puts their fighting skills on display, it usually results in the death of another,” Kirek said with unmistakable smugness, “which means the loser wasn’t a terribly valuable member of our society to begin with. It’s a mercy,really. To have to survive defeat with one’s pride so wounded would be worse than death.”
Of course that would be how tourneys would go in the draconic realm—if they even had tourneys and not simply death matches—with their succession working the brutal way it did.
The dragon girl tossed her head dismissively at the proceedings. “Anyway, if this tourney is supposedly in my honor, shouldn’t the prize bemyfavor?”
“Perhaps the fear was that you, in your vastly superior judgment, would withhold your esteemed favor entirely.” Samansa winced as soon as she spoke, silently cursing her apparent inability to be diplomatic whatsoever, but Kirek only shrugged, oblivious to the princess’s sarcasm.
“Perhaps Iwouldwithhold it.”
The first bout ended without a drop of blood spilled or even a bruise, making Kirek scoff as the victorious noble’s son gave Samansa a lingering look with his bow.
The princess ignored it, feeling an itch along her skin that had nothing to do with the weight of her dress under the sun-bright air.
Two matches later, Samansa could almost have kissed Tordall, the grizzled commander of her mother’s forces and Jamsens’s father, for winning two bouts in a row and knocking any hope for the princess’s favor out of the young noble’s son, after forcing him to yield both their second rounds. While Tordall was now in the lead, he was old enough to be her grandfather, and the princess had no worry that he secretly desired her hand.
Hisson, however …
It was much harder to ignore the regard in Jamsens’s eyes as he stepped up next to compete. He held her gaze as he pressedthe hilt of his sword to his heart and bowed. Samansa felt a dreaded flush rise in her cheeks before he turned to his opponent. The man he faced—another noble’s son—raised his sword in return.
Samansa barely had time to signal the start of the bout before Jamsens was upon him.
Her captain of the guard fought with an intensity of focus that took the princess’s breath away, his flurry of blows shattering the air with metallic clangs and flashes. The noble’s son didn’t stand a chance and was almost immediately forced to yield, down on his knees with Jamsens’s sword at his throat.
“Someone is eager to prove that his lack of practice didn’t soften him,” Kirek said with a smirk, “even if his blade is dull.” She glanced at the princess. “Is your favor so valuable?”
Since Samansa was supposed to be earning the dragon girl’s favor, dissembling as she usually would have wouldn’t serve her. So she forced herself to say, “Some might find it so.”
Kirek gave a dubious grunt and sat back in her seat, lounging with her legs spread, her narrow chin resting on her fist as she waited until the next match. She looked thoroughly bored before she realized it was Branon’s turn to compete. Then she sat up straighter.
Samansa didn’t like the bright interest in the dragon girl’s eyes as they traced Branon’s path into the center of the arena, even if she didn’t quite know why. Perhaps it was because Kirek expected more from the prince who’d just taken the field than she did the princess sitting next to her?
Samansa couldn’t imagine the dragon girl ever looking at her like that, after all.
Branon managed to hold Kirek’s attention throughout hisbout. He, like Jamsens, handily won his match with a skill that was less furious but no less disciplined than her captain. If anything, her brother was colder, more calculated.
Which felt to Samansa the more dangerous. She would have the chance to know for sure, as Jamsens and Branon were to face each other next, to see who would compete with Tordall and become the final victor of the short tourney.
“And you say these events can go on for days?” Kirek grumbled, lounging back into her space-consuming sprawl. “Thank the skies this is the truncated version.”
“Are you not curious who will win next? You seemed interested enough in Branon’s match.” Samansa could barely keep the resentment from her voice.
“Because I hadn’t seen him fight. Now I have. And now I know he’ll win.” The dragon girl gave a lazy shrug. “Without any blood to prove the victory, it’s rather less exciting once you can predict the outcome.”
Samansa glared at her. “You don’t know he’ll win! Jamsens fights well.”
“Jamsens fights like fire. Branon, like rock.” Kirek arched a dark, bladelike brow at her. “Have you ever watched fire try to burn rock?”
Bemused, Samansa said, “Not really, no.”
“Then watch and learn. Are you really so eager to grant Jamsens your favor, anyway?”
Samansa felt her forehead crease, an expression her mother always told her not to make lest it remain permanently etched in her skin. “No, not exactly. I mean, I wouldn’t mind! Rather, he already has it.”
The dragon girl rolled her eyes. “That was three differentresponses disguised as one. You’re being as precise as ever.” She folded her arms and leaned her head back against her chair, closing her eyes against the sunlight that set the silk awning above their heads aglow. “Now watch,” she said, while by all appearances, she took a nap.
Samansa gave a scowl Kirek couldn’t see, and then she watched. Not because the dragon girl told her to, of course. Still, a good part of her wanted to close her own eyes after Kirek’s prediction. While the princess didn’t want to encourage Jamsens by granting him any favor before an audience, however small it was, she didn’t want to watch him lose, either. He was her friend, despite not being much younger than her brother, and he took pride in his skill—and in his ability to protect her.
