Page 97 of Pippa of Lauramore
His page hands him his lance, and long before I’m ready, he charges. I don’t know the man he’s against, and I don’t wish him harm, but I want nothing more than to see him on the ground.
They connect, and I can’t look. I close my eyes, not wanting to face the outcome.
The crowd screams—deafening, wonderful roars that can only mean one thing. I open my eyes, jump up, and scream like the peasants in the seats below me. Leonora tries to pull me back—she’s murmuring something about improper behavior—but I barely notice her.
Something is wrong.
Galinor is still seated, but instead of the easy, humble expression he wears when he’s won something, his jaw is locked, and his smile looks forced. He looks at me, and a ghost of a grimace crosses his face.
He’s injured.
I rushfrom the stands as soon as I won’t be missed. Leonora and Marigold are behind me, but they both think I’m overreacting.
I know, though.
Bran stands outside Galinor’s tent, and it looks likehe’s keeping watch. His expression is solemn. “Princess, you might not?—”
I push past him, knowing I’ve seen worse in the last few days while I helped Yuven and Clarion tend the wounded. Marigold and Leonora don’t follow me in.
“What happened?” I demand when I see Galinor is propped in a chair, bleeding. Archer is wrapping bandages around his midsection, trying to slow the flow of blood.
“I’m fine,” Galinor says, but I don’t believe him. His head is back, and his eyes are closed.
“You’re not.” I kneel at his side, and then again, I ask, “What happened?”
“Lionel,” Archer says, his teeth gritted.
I shake my head, not understanding.
“We had a disagreement this morning,” Galinor answers. “He took a stab at me with a dagger he had hidden. He barely grazed me, and then he heard a noise and took off like the coward he is.”
“Barely grazed you?” I say, incredulous. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig.”
Galinor chuckles, but it sounds more like a groan. “That’s not something I expect a princess to say.”
“Let me see.” I’m already lifting the bandages.
Archer steps forward. “Pippa, you shouldn’t?—”
I cringe when I lift the fabric. Not only is blood pooling from the wound, but the skin around it is a sickly blue color.
“We wrapped it before he went out. We can’t seem to slow the bleeding,” Archer murmurs. “It wasn’t muchmore than a scratch this morning. There’s something unnatural about it.”
“Wrap it again as best you can. Apply pressure. I’ll get Yuven.” I’m already rising.
“Hurry,” Galinor manages to say between clenched teeth. His face is as pale as death, and there are beads of sweat on his forehead. “I have to go back out soon.”
“You won’t be competing again today.” Right now, I’m more worried about him than my future, but the tent still swims when I say the words.
Galinor opens his eyes and grabs my wrist. “No. I will not lose this.”
“I’ll compete in his place,” Archer says, already reapplying the wrap to Galinor’s middle. “Is it Leonora I heard with you?”
“Yes.”
“Have her fetch Percival.”
I shake my head. “He can’t know. He’ll never let you compete for Galinor.”
