Page 81 of Onyx Cage: Volume II
“Fia!” Rowan called, throwing her arms around the woman I strongly suspected was an assassin, like she wasn’t a walking embodiment of death itself.
“Princess.” Her accent was more lyrical than the harsher tones of my people, neither Socairain nor Lochlannian.
Who was she?
The mysterious woman turned her gaze on me, openly scanning me from head to toe. “Now, now. What do we have here?”
Her tone was ostensibly casual, but there was an undercurrent I would have been an idiot to ignore. A warning and a demand for silence, all in one.
Whether she was more concerned that I would comment that she was an assassin or that she was Socairan, I couldn’t be sure, but I nodded all the same, injecting the smallest bit of my own threat into the movement. Her secrets weren’t my concern, as long as she meant no harm to me or mine.
She nodded back.Understood.
It was almost a relief to communicate with someone in the Socairan fashion after a week of Lochlannian candor.
Rowan’s parents approached, forestalling any further conversation, silent or otherwise. They, too, embraced the new group—the thieves, if Sai’s introduction was to be believed.
“Row,” Queen Charlotte addressed her while King Logan continued to pretend neither of us existed. “I think your event is one of the later ones, but Avani is about to start out the archery competition.”
So she knew what Rowan had signed us up for, as well.
“Does everyone know what we’re doing but me?” I asked, partly because I genuinely wanted to know and partly before she could glare at the king in front of the ever encroaching crowd.
Rowan smirked. “Not everyone.”
“Can you give me a hint?” I pressed.
“Hmm.” She tilted her head. “I lost the sparring tourney last year, so I picked something we’ll win.”
Most of the games appeared to be physical in nature, and I was plenty confident in my relentless training. Rowan, too, had the lean form of a warrior and was quick on her feet. Winning wasn’t in question.
“That doesn’t narrow it down,” I told her, shrugging one shoulder.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head like she didn’t know perfectly well how true it was.
Before she could respond verbally, Sai’s voice rang out again, bringing with it a new wave of chaos. Rowan tugged on my arm, signalling for us to keep moving, and I gratefully complied.
She was plenty of chaos without a merry band of assassins and thieves in tow.
The games were interesting.
While I had been right about their generally physical nature, not all of them were based on traditional skill sets. Like, for instance, the race wherein the queen and Princess Isla tied together one of each of their legs and lurched along to place last in a race that seemed to be more for laughs than actual competition.
It was safe to say any Socairan nobility would have died before competing in that one.
The archery and sparring contests weren’t unlike the contests we held at the Summit. The difference there was the tensions between the clans, the pride we upheld with each match.
It had never occurred to me to host a similar tournament for my own people. Though the lords were unlikely to mingle amongst the villagers, the soldiers at least would all compete together.
We stayed at the sparring log for the longest amount of time, and we weren’t the only ones. Half the festival had gathered to watch Gwyn knock down opponent after opponent. At least, I thought that was why they were gathered until her father stepped up to the beam.
Each contest so far had been accompanied by whispered odds and a telltale clinking of coins, but this one topped them all. The onlookers shouted over each other to be heard, placing last minute bets on either the Captain or his daughter. Gwyn set her mouth into a grim line, meeting her father with decidedly more wariness than she had shown the other competitors.
With good reason, as it turned out.
Gwyn moved with her usual blinding speed, but the Captain of the Guard was even faster. He met her blow for blow, almost like he was toying with the impressive warrior. She let out a growl, shooting an accusatory glance at him like she had realized the same thing.
He shrugged a single shoulder before launching into an attack that forced her to overcorrect. She pitched unceremoniously into the mud beneath the sparring log, letting out an impressive string of curses along the way.