Page 56 of The Gambler's Prize
“Balloons are Callinthen,” I say. “Of the enemy.”
He looks away, almost confirming my suspicions that he’s half Callinthen. Which is the least of the reasons why we shouldn’t be this close.
“You don’t want to fly?” he says quietly.
Ireallydon’t want to fly. But I won’t let him go alone, just in case it’s dangerous. I have to protect my servant.
“We can fly if you want to,” I say.
**
The fair is just like I expected. Noisy and crowded with drunken, foolish people. Different songs played by different street musicians fight with each other. They don’t even have enough sense to space themselves apart. The clink of swords comes from the combat demonstrations, one aspect of the fair I might be interested in. But Florian is making his way confidently through the crowd, aiming for the main stage where a loud and raucous comedy performance is underway. I follow him, making sure he doesn’t get lost. I don’t think he would run from me now, not after he gave me his word and especially not after the way he gazed at me with adoration this morning, but I don’t want him to wander into rough company or piss off the wrong person. He’s much too pretty and innocent to be left alone among this mob. Hustlers grab our arms, trying to make us buy various pieces of cheap tat. I chase them with scowls. Florian laughs at my fierceness as they bustle away in fear.
“Do you have to be so hard on them?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply shortly.
Jealousy is kicking in with a vengeance now that Florian and I have fucked. Even though I haven’t forgiven him, I still resent anyone else laying eyes on my prize.
“I know you’ll keep me safe,” he says, smiling up at me.
He links arms with me. Not knowing what else to do, I let him. We reach the main stage. A couple of performers are telling bawdy jokes, and the crowd howls its appreciation. Florian cranes his neck, unable to see. I stride forward, carving out a path until we’re right at the front. He looks impressed, though it’s not that impressive. It’s easy to cut through a crowd when you’re taller than most of them.
“And now it’s time for the Amazing Archer Andro!” the man onstage yells.
Florian practically jumps up and down in excitement. “I’ve seen him at a dozen fairs. He’s amazing.”
“Hence the name,” I say dryly.
Florian pouts. Not an annoyed pout. Aplease keep making fun of mepout. He’s flirting with me. Why not? First there was last night, and now I’m taking him out on what he probably sees as a date. Once again I get that sinking into quicksand feeling, like I’m being dragged down into something I can’t fight. Though unlike quicksand, I’m not sure how hard I even want to fight it anymore.
“Have you ever seen his act before?” Florian says.
“Who?”
“Andro the Archer.”
I drag my mind back to our conversation. “Oh. No. Never.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat then.”
Florian turns his attention to the stage, unhooking his arm from mine so that he can clap his hands wildly. He whoops along with the rest of the crowd and even lets out a shrill, distinctly non-aristocratic whistle as a thin man dressed in green strides onstage. I watch Florian more than the stage, unable to prevent a smile creeping across my face. His innocent pleasure in almost everything used to annoy me. It reminded me of his charmed life compared to mine. It bothered me that he hadn’t had the joy beaten out of him like I have. It doesn’t bother me as much now.
The archer walks across the stage, sending arrow after arrow into a range of targets with tiny bullseyes. And I meantiny, as in the size of a penny. It’s impressive. I’ve never had any skill with a bow. Fists are more my style. I clap quietly for the man’s talent, while the rest of the crowd whoops and hollers. The comedian comes forward, throwing up a series of small, straw-filled bags into the air. The archer shoots them down in turn, looking almost bored.
“Can’t this fair provide me with a real challenge?” he yells to the crowd.
There’s another huge roar as everyone declares that Galbrava is up to the task. Florian looks up at me with bright eyes. I smile back, creaky and out of practice, realizing that I’ve barely smiled at him before. At least, I assume I mustn’t have, given the look of surprise on his face.
“Are there any brave enough in Galbrava to join my act?” Andro the Archer yells. “Or is this a city of cowards?”
The crowd jeers. A few dozen hands fly up. Including Florian’s, before I can stop him.
“You, young sir.” The archer points right at Florian. Of course. His beauty stands out in any crowd.
“Florian, no,” I growl, grabbing for him. But the crowd is already parting for him and he’s tripping lightly up the steps to the stage.
The archer greets him with a handshake. “So young man, you are brave enough?”
