Page 12 of The Warlord's Wildflower
“Yes, please,” I whisper, tears burning in my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Maeve stands and helps me up, shielding me with her body as we slip out of the chief’s viewing area. I catch a final glimpse of the ring, of Fenric raising his axe high as the crowd is shouting his name, and then it all blurs.
The ribbon is gone. The cheering is too loud. And I… I don’t belong here.
Maeve wraps an arm around my shoulder as we step into the shade behind the stands.
“Just breathe, sweetheart,” she murmurs. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
I didn’t feel okay. Not at all.
Chapter Six
Fenric
My eyes were on her every chance I had, every breath between swings, every lull in roars from the crowd. Even when my opponent's axe nearly kissed my ribs, I was still scanning the stands for just a glimpse of her, of dark curls and a shy smile.
She looked like something out of a dream, high up in the chief’s viewing box. In her purple dress with ribbons in her hair, which I thought she was wearing just for me. I kept waiting for her to stand and climb down from the perch to bring me the favor she’d promised.
She didn’t, of course, and I knew deep down that she was most likely too nervous or maybe waiting for the break before the final bout to seek me out.
When my eyes lock on Garron leaning slightly toward her, too damn close for my liking, it takes everything I have not to vault myself over the damn rail and drag her away from him right then in front of everyone. She doesn’t belong next to him; she doesn't belong next to any maleexcept me.
The ugly brute is twice her ageat least. I am younger, faster, stronger. I can protect her, make her laugh, make her blush, make hermine.
She didn’t even stay to see me win. When I look back up at the chief’s canopy between rounds, she is gone. Was she not interested after all? Was I just some fool Bull chasing butterflies?
I wipe the sweat from my brow and turn toward the ring, nearly breaking my opponent's shield in half just to burn off the fire in my chest.
Chapter Seven
Annie
Maeve’s arm stays around my shoulders as we weave through the thick crowd. My heart is still pounding like a hummingbird’s wings, and I can barely breathe. The colors, the noise, the cheering…it all melts together into a dizzying blur that makes my skin feel too tight.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, but Maeve just gives me a worried look and presses her hand more firmly against my back.
“No, sweet girl. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Let’s get you some water, alright?”
I nod. My throat feels like it’s full of cotton.
As we turn a corner behind the tournament grounds, the sound of the crowd fades just enough for my head to stop spinning. I keep my eyes low, focusing on the grass brushing my bare toes.
Then I see them.
Beatrice andSilas.
She is pressed far too close to him, her face flushed and eyes wide like a startled deer. Silas leans in with an ever-so-smug grin, one hand braced casually on the wooden post beside her head. I could just barely hear the low rumble of his teasing voice before Beatrice notices us.
Her whole face changes in an instant. She shoves him back with both hands and snaps, “Get away from me, you brute!”
Silas only chuckles, unbothered as ever, and gives Maeve a two-fingered salute before strolling away like he hadn’t just been caught with his horns where they didn’t belong.
Maeve gapes, but I don’t say anything, mostly because my brain is still foggy and I can’t string a proper thought together. Beatrice turns to us, flustered, red as a tomato, and huffs.
“What are you doing here?”
She looks between Maeve and me. Her eyes soften the moment she sees my face. “Annie? Are you alright?”
