Page 106 of Pippa of Lauramore
Our banter is interrupted by Archer entering the arena. I can barely watch the match. The tournament is getting too close to the end, and the stakes are too high.
It’s an easy win for Archer, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.
Irving continues to tease me, to distract me, as we watch the last few matches. I feel sick as Lionel bests Lord Orick and makes it to the final three. Rigel wins his spot as well. Soon Archer is preparing to fight Peter of Coppel for the last spot.
“I bet he wins in five swings or less.” Irving leans close.
I groan, ignoring him.
Marigold leans over me, looking at her brother. “Four.”
“Deal.”
I want to laugh, but at the same time, I think I might cry. I’m a wreck.
“One, two,” Irving counts as the match progresses. “Three,” he says. “And…done. Three! I won’t lie—that’s impressive.”
He’s done it. He made the final three.
I lay my head back, look up at the sky, and take several gulps of air. Marigold pulls me to my feet to join the audience cheering around me.
Archer turns in my direction, and even though the visor is still down, I know he’s looking at me. He holds up a fist to acknowledge his win, and my embroidered handkerchief is in his hand.
I laugh, but it’s almost a sob. I kiss my palm and hold it up to him. No one around me notices, but he sees, and that’s all that matters.
Lionel and Rigel join Archer in the arena. There is no way for Rigel to win now, not with Lionel and Galinor guaranteed a minimum of four points. It’s between Lionel and Galinor.
My future rests in Archer’s hands.
“Congratulations to the final three,” Father says. “Not only have you placed in the top three for the hand-to-hand, but you are the top three competitors in the tournament. These last two matches will not only decide the winner of today’s competition, but the winner of my daughter’s hand.”
I shiver. My stomach is in knots, and I know if I had eaten today—which I have not—I would lose it all right now.
“As you know, in this final round of the tournament, the order is decided by the luck of the draw. Pippa, would you join me?”
I guess I’m the lucky one who gets to draw. I rise tomy feet, feeling as if there is a weight on my shoulders. Every eye is on me, and for once in my life, I wish I could disappear. In Father’s hand are three sticks. The bottom half of each stick is concealed in his fist. If Galinor’s stick is chosen last, Archer will only have to fight the winner of the first match. He will be guaranteed first or second place.
“Fighting first will be—” Father gives me a gentle smile, looking as if he can sense my nerves. I pull the first stick and am flooded with relief when I see Vernow’s colors at the bottom. “Prince Lionel.”
I pull the second stick, squinting, too scared to look. When I do peek, I see Glendon’s red and yellow. I almost drop the stick.
“Prince Galinor!”
I paste a smile on my face as the crowd cheers. I take a seat next to Leonora and let her wrap her arm around me.
“He can do it.” She gives me a reassuring squeeze.
Lionel and Archer take their places. If it’s ever been obvious that it’s not Galinor under that armor, it should be now. He is easily as tall as Lionel, but Archer is not. Perhaps if someone were not looking for it, they wouldn’t notice.
My shoulder is starting to ache now.
They circle each other, sizing up their competition. Lionel strikes first, putting his weight behind his swing. Archer blocks the sword with his shield, and the metallic crash rings through the hushed arena. Losing no time, Lionel attacks again and again. Each time Archer blocks it with sword or shield.
Leonora’s hand tightens over mine as the fight lingers on.
Lionel stumbles, and Archer lunges forward. Archer raises his sword, and I suck in a breath. Regaining his balance at the last moment, Lionel swings his shield up under Archer’s jaw. Archer’s head goes back, and he stumbles backward.
I cry out and stand.
