Page 28 of Knight of Havoc
“There are others who also are just as close to the empress. Richard Grancourt for one,” she answered softly.
“Grancourt is not participating in the games. His readiness to serve the empress is not in question nor can he be numberedwith the men who are attempting to win your hand,” Hawke reminded her.
“Some of them are… obnoxious, to put it nicely,” she replied and then took a sip of her wine. The liquid slid down her throat and hit her stomach reminding her she had barely supped this eve. She had been so upset at the prospect of what would happen tonight that she had given up earlier trying to swallow any food. If she was not careful, the wine would go straight to her head and then where would she be?
“You will come to me if any of them become too forward, Elysande. I care not what the empress says. I am still your captain and am sworn to protect you. I will not have you sullied by some overeager man bent on wedding you whether or not he wins the games. This includes Norwood. Do you understand me?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Aye,” she said before continuing, “but ’twill not come to that.”
A lock of his blond-brown hair fell over his forehead and she reached up to push it back into place. She cupped his cheek but briefly before she returned her gaze back to the audience in the room. Everyone seemed to be watching her every move. It exhausted her to be on such public display.
The empress stood and the minstrels struck up a chord. Those in the great hall halted their conversations.
“Today’s games have for the most part been a large success. As you all saw, several knights have been injured during the games and are no longer in the running for Lady Elysande’s hand. On the morrow, we shall learn who will live to see the next day. But I will proclaim a champion for his efforts for this day. He shall have the pleasure of the last dance with Lady Elysande.”
The empress began to survey the crowd and Elysande’s eyes met Reynard’s across the room. He gave a brief nod of his headand she returned the gesture before her attention returned to the empress. She held her breath waiting to hear Reynard’s name…
“Lord Constantine Warin, Earl of Charlbury,” the empress’s voice rang out, causing several groans to be heard amongst the men even whilst Elysande’s heart fell. “Come and claim your dance with the beautiful lady!”
Lord Constantine came to bow before the empress before his attention turned to find Elysande. When their eyes met and held, she swore all the color left her face whilst her gaze became unfocused. Elysande quickly turned, covering her mouth until she heard Hawke whisper in her ear to hold herself together. She squared her shoulders and placed another false smile on her lips hoping it at the very least appeared welcoming.
Lord Constantine came and lifted her hand high until they reached the middle of the vacant floor—no others would join them in the last dance of the evening. As the music began, she was expertly maneuvered through the patterns of the dance by a man who apparently knew how to court a lady. ’Twas a shame that this particular man was the wrong one for he would never be able to make her heart sing.
Chapter Twenty
Rain pelted theearth, turning the ground beneath his feet into a muddy trap and, yet, still the games went on. Reynard swung his sword at this opponent waiting for an opportunity to win the match. But Morcant was a challenging adversary and was not making it easy for Reynard to achieve his goal. But he refused to give up as he continued his assault.
His arm grew tired, not that he would allow such a weakness to cause him to fail. He drew on his inner strength that had previously seen him through sheer exhaustion when he was on a battlefield. There had been no time for weakness at Lincoln or Winchester and he would be damned if he would allow his body to fail him now! Not when everything depended on him being named Elysande’s champion at the end of the games.
He shoved his helmet from his head when it became more of a hindrance than a help whilst the rain continued to restrict his eyesight. He had been certain the empress would cease the games for the day with such a torrential downpour but so far, she continued to applaud those who became victorious whilst she sat beneath a canopy that kept her and those who sat with her dry.
The wind suddenly whipped up causing one corner of the makeshift protection to fall. Water cascaded off to the side causing a river to form upon the ground. Reynard became distracted as he watched the empress and Elysande rush to stand. A piercing jab slid between the chinks of his chainmailbeneath his tabard causing Reynard to fall in the mud to one knee.
“You should not let your emotions show so clearly on your face, Norwood. ’Twill be your downfall.” Morcant sneered, lifting up his sword as he claimed the match.
Reynard regained his feet. Despite the wound that caused his side to burn, he would continue his fight with his foe. He swung his blade over and over again in a move that his brothers had taught him in their youth. No one in his past could handle such an onslaught as he continued to hack away at the man before him. His arm moved swiftly, and the action caught Morcant completely unaware considering he had thought Reynard was defeated. His eyes went wide when he stumbled and fell into the mud below Reynard’s feet. Reynard pointed his blade at Morcant’s neck.
“Yield,” he ordered through the rain pounding on their bodies.
“Nay! I yield nothing to you or any other who thinks he is man enough to beat me,” Morcant bellowed, rising up onto his elbows.
Reynard nicked Morcant’s skin for emphasis. “The fact that my sword is at your neck is reason enough to end your fighting for the day. Yield,” he repeated and waited for Morcant’s reply.
“You bloody whoreson. Aye! I yield,” Morcant swore and at last rose to his feet once Reynard pulled back his sword and placed the blade in the scabbard at his side. “Just remember what the morrow may bring. I will not yield again so easily.”
Reynard gave a sigh of relief when he heard the empress announce that the games were at an end for the day due to the inclement weather. She began to descend from the raised platform along with Beatrix and her other ladies-in-waiting. Elysande’s descent was slower as if she waited for him. He searched the ground for his helmet and once found, he pickedit up and began to slowly make his way toward Elysande. He did not wish to alarm her but he must needs get to the tent he had had erected near the games in order to inspect the wound Morcant had inflicted.
He held his side until a quick look at his gauntlet confirmed his worst fears… the wound would most likely need stiches.
“You are bleeding,” Elysande cried out as she took hold of his hand. She traced the metal gauntlet with her fingertips.
“So ’twould appear,” he fumed, knowing Morcant would have been victorious if Reynard hadn’t found the strength to carry on the match.
“Your tent is nearby?” she asked as she took his arm and placed it over her shoulder, as if this tiny woman would have the strength to keep him upright.
“Aye. Hopefully Blake, Oswin, Kingsley, or even Richard witnessed my injury and are already inside preparing what might be needed to treat the wound.”
“The cur! Lord Gerold should be banned from any further participation,” she complained angrily. “By the empress’s edict, these games are not supposed to draw blood.”
