Entirely too soon, he’d said his goodbyes to her one last time before walking out of the town to the forest’s edge. A crowd had already gathered there, and more followed behind them. Dallan’s heart rose to his throat when he spotted Niamh hurrying down from the village, her blue woolen dress whipping about her the whole way, golden hair the same color as the rising sun. He’d told her she looked best in blue.
The crowd formed a circle about Dallan, Morda, and Fachtna. It seemed all of Nás had turned out to see the spectacle. Taking several deep breaths to steady himself, Dallan searched for Niamh in the crowd that had seemingly swallowed her whole.He heard the sound of a sword being drawn behind him, and Morda stepped forward to address the crowd.
Before he spoke a word, Niamh stumbled through the front line of onlookers, her face as pale as new milk, her lips tight.
“I wish to address his accuser,” she shouted, taking one step closer to Morda. The crowd went silent, all eyes on her.
Dallan’s blood ran cold. He didn’t know what she planned, but he knew Niamh well enough to guess that it wasn’t anything he’d wish her to do. She’d said his uncle had a plan—was this a part of it? Perhaps they’d conspired to help him. Morda was wise and cunning. A great man, a great king. But Niamh was downright devious. Out of practice, certainly, but Dallan had seen the schemes she’d come up with over the year they’d spent together in Nás.
Fachtna stepped forward beside Morda. Dallan wanted nothing more than to punch that smug look off his face. “What can I do for you, dear?” he asked Niamh, testing the strength of Dallan’s willpower.
“You can fight me,” she declared. “I challenge you to a duel for Dallan’s freedom—from his oath and his execution.”
Well, that answered that. “Absolutely not,” Dallan interrupted, looking to the guards to ask them to take her up to the keep before she got herself killed alongside him.
Morda raised a hand. “It is Fachtna’s decision to accept the duel or risk destroying his reputation.”
“Are you attempting to goad me into slaughtering an innocent woman?” Fachtna asked incredulously.
“Are you using my sex to hide your cowardice?” Niamh taunted him.
Fachtna looked from Morda to Niamh, his mouth agape. “Can you even lift a sword?” Fachtna asked.
Niamh drew a small sword, little larger than a dagger, from a sheath Dallan hadn’t noticed about her waist. God’s bones, shewas really going to do it. He couldn’t just stand by and let her throw herself on Fachtna’s sword for him.
He moved to interfere, only to find himself held on either side by a pair of guards. He looked to Morda, who shook his head subtly. What game was he playing?
If Fachtna refused a duel, he would be a coward and lose the respect of his followers. If he killed her, he’d be the man who slaughtered an innocent woman. If he lost, Dallan would go free. Of the three, losing was his best choice, but Dallan wouldn’t underestimate the man’s thirst for blood. It seemed Morda and Niamh were betting on his pride over his bloodlust.
Devious, indeed.
Dallan’s breath faltered as he watched Fachtna draw his sword and advance toward Niamh.
*
Niamh was adamned fool. Her heart hammered against her chest as she sucked in a shaky breath and adjusted her grip on the small sword Morda had given her. The crowd behind her roared as he accepted her challenge, raising his blade and advancing across the small circle.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dallan glaring at her in shock, his mouth a tight line. She couldn’t think about that, or she’d lose her nerve. Better she die fighting for his life than live her own without him. It was a decision she made the moment Morda told her about the execution. It had been, aside from loving Dallan, the easiest decision she’d ever made. And almost certainly the most foolish.
Morda assured her that the odds were low that Fachtna would kill her outright. Aye, he might injure her, but he’d lose the respect of his mob of followers if he slaughtered a woman fighting for the man she loved. Which was why it had to beNiamh. If Dallan or Morda had challenged him, it wouldn’t have trapped him between his reputation and Dallan’s life. Only Niamh could buy Dallan his freedom.
They met in the center of the circle of onlookers, who cheered wildly as Fachtna circled her, a wolf stalking a lamb. He lunged at her, his sword flicking in her direction. Slowly. Deliberately.
She blocked him with a haphazard swing of her sword.
He repeated the attack on her other side and she again blocked him. He was toying with her and everyone knew it. She might not know a thing about swordplay, but she refused to appear the coward. Niamh charged him, her sword pointed at his heart, a shout escaping her as she ran.
He easily knocked her sword aside, smacking her bottom with his own as she tumbled past him, losing her balance. The crowd laughed. Dallan started fighting with his guards, trying to pull his arms free, but two more joined the others to keep him in place.
Niamh stood, charging Fachtna again, this time aiming low. Once again, he deflected her attack. This time, however, he let his sword catch her arm, drawing blood. She cried out, grabbing her arm, and the crowd began yelling.
They liked the entertainment, but it seemed they didn’t want to watch her lose. Fachtna read them as well as she expected of a politician, holding a hand to calm their cries and dropping his sword to the ground. He raised his fists, motioning Niamh to come at him.
She dropped her own sword, as she was useless with it anyway, and ran at him again, the crowd roaring to life around them. He landed a hit on her chest, knocking her onto her back and stealing the breath from her. Bringing to mind a memory she’d not soon forget. Oh, aye, she had thought back many a time to when she’d seen Dallan in the same position, seven yearsago in the training yard on the day they’d met. As quickly as she could, she spun her legs into Fachtna’s.
Knocking him ontohisback.
And just like that day in the training yard, the crowd roared to life about them. He lay there, shocked, listening to the crowd cheer her on. Niamh knew he could rise and beat her to death without any trouble. But they both knew if he did that, he’d lose all the support he had for the kingship.
