The Betrothed (The Betrothed #1)(33)

“Well, then, you have my admiration for your courage, and my compassion for the sacrifices I’m sure you’ve made.”

He sneered at me. “I don’t need either. Not from you.”

I shook my head and gathered my gown. “I’m glad you’ve sheathed your sword today, Sir Etan. If you could do the same with your tongue, you might find your company much more appreciated.”

With another fussy expression, he stormed off, leaving me alone with Silas. Finally.

“I tried.”

He smiled with a shrug. “I know. I like that about you. You’re always trying.”

I considered that. Etan had called me an ornament, Delia Grace took every opportunity to remind me I was a poor student, and my parents . . . well, they found endless fault with me. But Silas kept catching things that I didn’t know about myself. He said he liked the way I thought. And he was right, I had plenty of good ideas. And he said that I tried, and he was right about that, too. I had a hard time giving up.

I found myself wishing I had a reason to stay near him just a little bit longer. Instead, I bowed my head to him to take my leave and walked away, looking back as I went. There was some unnameable thing that I felt when I was near Silas, like there was a string connecting us, pulling on me if I wandered too far. I was starting to think that fate had made our paths cross, but, considering how differently our paths had begun, I couldn’t guess at why. Impulsively, I pulled my handkerchief from my sleeve and let it fall to the ground before rushing away.

As soon as I reached the royal box, I dropped into a curtsy before King Jameson. “Majesty.”

“My Lady Hollis, you look radiant today. How am I to focus on the games?”

I smiled, then nodded at King Quinten and Queen Valentina. “Your Majesties. I hope you slept well.”

Queen Valentina blinked at me, seemingly confused by the kindness. “Thank you.”

I took my seat and tried to pay attention as the games began. As usual, Jameson’s least favorite event, spear on foot, was up first. I couldn’t blame him; it was too slow paced even for me, and I was never sure of the scoring. Some of the other events were much more straightforward.

“Ha ha!” King Quinten shouted. “That’s another victory won by my men!”

“You have superb soldiers,” Jameson agreed amicably. “My father always said so. Though I think the tides will turn once the events are on horseback. Coroans all excel with horses. Even my Hollis rides with speed and grace.”

I leaned forward, taking in the praise. “You are too kind. And what of you, Your Majesties? Do you ride?”

“I used to,” Valentina replied with a faint smile before her husband waved a hand to silence her.

“Not if I can help it,” he answered quickly.

I made a face at Jameson, who understood my exasperation completely, and when he stuck out his tongue in reply, it was all I could do not to laugh.

When the spear event was finally over, the first groups of people came out for the next event: sword. After a few rounds, Silas came onto the field.

“Look there, Your Majesty.” I rested my arm on Jameson’s and pointed with the other. “Do you see the young man wearing no colors?”

He focused on the far side of the arena. “I do.”

“It’s one of the Eastoffe sons. He wanted to honor you both with his performance, so he chose no side,” I explained. “He said it was for both his past and present.”

Jameson considered this. “Very diplomatic, I suppose.”

I frowned, a little disappointed with that assessment. “I’d thought of it as a lovely sentiment.”

He laughed. “Ah, Hollis, you have such a simple view of life. I wish I had it myself.”

The match began, and I saw quickly that Silas had been right: he was much better at making swords than wielding them. Still, I found myself moving closer and closer to the edge of my seat, hoping he’d somehow take the victory. His footwork was clumsy, but he was strong, swinging the sword with much more conviction than his counterpart, who, by chance, was wearing blue.

The crowd cheered and whooped with every blow, and I lifted my hand to my lips, hoping that if Silas didn’t win, he’d at least walk away uninjured. I never worried about Jameson when he was jousting. Perhaps it was his skill on horseback or just the belief that it was impossible for him to fail.

Knowing that loss or injury were both very possible made me care about what I was seeing all the more. But I found my hope restored that Silas would at least be safe when I saw a hint of golden fabric peeking out from his sleeve.

He’d taken it. I felt my heartbeat fly even faster knowing that he’d scooped up my favor and was wearing it as his own. I peeked over at Jameson, hoping he didn’t notice. I told myself that even if he had, plenty of ladies wove golden thread into their handkerchiefs. It was a thrilling and delicious secret.

Silas and his opponent battled back and forth, each refusing to concede. After one of the longest sword fights I’d ever seen, it all came down to the man in blue taking a few missteps and Silas bearing down with the sword hard on his challenger’s back. His opponent dropped to the dirt and the round was over.

I stood, cheering with all my might and clapping thunderously.

Jameson rose beside me. “You must really support this swordsman,” he said.