‘Have a little faith, defender.’
Harlan looked past to her to her family, who were pretending not to listen. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Prince Borin stepped up onto one of the tables, and everyone fell silent. He perched a fist on his hip like he was posing for a portrait. Astin waited next to the table, hand on his weapon as he watched the crowd.
‘The coming together of Chadorians at this yearly festival is indeed a highlight for all of us. It is an opportunity to open the gates and celebrate as one. It is a time to acknowledge all that we have in common.’
Blake looked down at that.
‘Like gameball,’ Borin added.
Not one merchant laughed.
Borin clapped his hands, and the man holding the ball threw it to him. He held it up triumphantly. ‘Chadora’s cherished farmers against our hard-working merchants.’
Cheering broke out among the merchants and farmers, drowning out the polite claps of the nobility across the rope.
‘Apparently we’re not cherished,’ Lyndal whispered to Blake.
‘The rules are simple,’ Borin continued, ‘in that there are no rules. May the best borough win.’
Harlan looked at Blake, opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind and walked away.
* * *
Did he think her a complete fool? She had attended enough gameball events to know how they worked. She knew the risks—and she knew the rewards. Prince Borin was obsessed with the game and would favour the winning borough. King Oswin, on the other hand, was content watching the young noble ladies who always found ways to position themselves in front of him. It was rumoured that the king’s wandering eye was one reason his wife, Queen Fayre, remained at Dunnottar Castle in the newly formed kingdom of Toryn. A rumoured Toryn lover was the second reason.
‘The game will commence at the wall to ensure the match is a fair one,’ the prince said.
Was it fair that the merchants were walking skeletons in comparison to the farmers? Blake thought not. Still, she followed Prince Borin’s horse all the way to the gate and got herself into position.
‘In honour of Belenus,’ Borin said, throwing the ball up high.
The players surged forwards while the spectators stood a sensible distance away. Blake’s eyes were on Eda more than the ball, worried she would get trampled in the rush. But her sister slipped expertly between the men, her feet sticking every time she was knocked.
Blake held back and waited to see which way the ball would go. A merchant reached it first, booting it away from the gate. Another was ready, scooping it up and tucking it to his chest as he sprinted back in the direction they had come. A farmer stepped into his path, throwing his shoulder into the man.
Blake heard the snap of bone, and the merchant slammed into the ground, his head splitting open on impact. There was a collective gasp from spectators as they edged forwards for a better view. Nothing like a bit of blood to pique interest.
The farmer tore the ball from the merchant’s limp arms and tossed it long to someone waiting by the gate. It never made it though, because Blake was ready. Leaping up, she snatched the ball from the air and landed with soft knees. She had to hurry, because she was no match for the men coming at her.
‘Run!’ she called to a merchant nearby, tossing it to him as he took off.
He made it about six steps before being tackled. Everyone cheered. The farmer who had taken him down grabbed the ball and ran back in the direction of the gate.
Slam.
A body hit Blake, knocking her sideways. She rolled as she landed so the man who had followed her to the ground could not do any more damage. When she got to her feet, her eyes met Harlan’s. He gave her the slightest shake of his head.
Don’t go in there, he was saying. He could not follow her.
Of course she had to go in there. Eda would not bow out now.
Eda.
Blake turned just in time to see her sister disappear beneath the archway. ‘Eda!’
So much for staying together.
