I catch his arm. The boy gasps, but the man swings his head around, and there’s a murderous look in his eyes.
“Let him go,” I say.
“This isn’t your business,” he growls.
“Surely not,” I say. “I can saddle my own horse. I don’t need a boy to do it.” I keep a tight grip on his arm. “Let him go.”
He lets go—but he also jerks free to turn and face me. He’s older, with a thick graying beard and small, dark eyes. He’s bigger than I am, too, but I’m used to that. When his hand reaches for his sword hilt, mine is already half drawn.
“Easy, gentlemen,” another man drawls, his words slow and lazyfrom behind me. Something about the voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. “Raolin, if you fight for free in the aisles, you’ll be out of a job.”
Raolin clenches his jaw, but he lets go of his sword. He spits at the ground at my feet. “Put some coins on the line and we can finish this in the arena.”
“I try not to humiliate people in public,” I say, and he glowers in response, but the man at my back speaks again.
“Go, Raolin,” he says. “You’re due in the arena in ten minutes anyway.” He pauses, and his voice tightens. “And the lord is right. You can saddle your own mount if you’re going to waste time abusing the help.”
Raolin swears under his breath and turns away.
I look at the boy, who’s watched this whole interaction with wide eyes. “Are you all right?” I say to him.
He nods quickly and swipes the blood off his lip. “Yes. Yes, my lord.”
I want to offer to heal his lip, but I remember the way Jax and Callyn reacted, so I keep my hands to myself. It’s a minor wound anyway.
The man at my back moves to my side. “Go ahead, Bailey,” he says kindly. “Get to the other horses.”
The boy nods and dashes off.
“Forgive my fighter, my lord,” says the man as I turn to face him. “The odds are against him tonight, so he’s got a bit of a temper—” He stops short as his eyes lock on my face, and then he does a double take. “Silver hell,” he says. “Tycho?”
“Journ,” I say, and I’m equally surprised. For a flash of time, I’m fifteen again, looking up at one of the tourney’s champions.
He shakes off the shock, then claps me on the shoulder. “You’ve grown!” He looks me up and down, then offers me a warm smile. “And you’ve gone far.”
“Well.” I smile. “A long way from Worwick’s.” I always liked Journ. He was good in the arena, a fair fighter who’d put on a good show. Hewas also a kind man, someone who carried sweets in his pockets for the occasional children in the crowd.
“You’re a long way from Worwick’s, too,” I say. Journ’s hair has gone more gray, but he’s still built like a fighter. No armor, though, so he must not be fighting tonight.
He shrugs, and something dark shifts in his eyes. “After the king was discovered, we had to leave Rillisk. There were many who thought I knew. The threats were … awful.” He sighs and breaks off. “Abigale nearly lost the baby from the stress of it.”
I lose the smile. “I’m sorry.” I pause. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s all right. It’s been a long time.” His voice is quieter now. “We’re in a good place here.”
Maybe he is, but I can’t quite tell if he blames the king for what happened or if he sees it for a simple twist of fate. I wonder how he’ll take the news of what Grey and Lia Mara are planning. “Still fighting?” I say.
“Nah, not so much.” He hesitates and glances out into the aisle where the crowds are steadily growing. “Walk with me? Or do you have …” His eyes skip over the insignia on my chest. “Duties?”
“I’m glad to walk,” I say.
The crowds yield to him readily, and kind greetings are common as we walk. He’s well liked here, but that’s no surprise, because he was well liked at Worwick’s, too.
“I came to Gaulter as a fighter,” he’s saying, “and I still go in the arena on occasion. But a few months ago, Talan Borry, the old man who owns the tourney, fell into poor health. I’ve been looking after the place more and more.”
“No wonder it seems so well tended,” I say, and he smiles.
“It’s not as big as Worwick’s,” he says, “but we do a good amount of business. We break even on the champions, but the scraver fights pull in alotof silver.”
