“First blood for something as important as a chieftainship is a coward’s choice. Karsas knew that. What respect he still has from the clan would be lost. To the death was the only real choice. Besides, first blood is too risky. I can give up a fair amount of blood and still win.”
A grim smile curved her lips. “Only a Pit gladiator would say such a thing.”
He scooted a little closer to where she sat. She reclined against a wedge of pillows, hands easy on the cup she held. She was beautiful. So grave, so composed. “Then you haven’t lived with us long enough. The Savatar are fierce fighters.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “And unafraid of death?”
“Afraid enough to make them vicious in a fight.” Karsas would be exceptionally hard to kill.
“Is Karsas a good fighter?”
Azarion shrugged. “I’ll assume he’s the best and hope otherwise.”
Her brow knitted. “And he will be motivated.”
“As will I.”
He glided a finger down her tunic sleeve. She tracked its path with her eyes. Azarion wanted to kiss her again, but something about her demeanor—a hint of despair—made him hesitate. “I’ll pray later tonight and make a sacrifice to Agna that she be my sword arm and the speed of my feet. Will heragacinkeep me company while I do?”
“Don’t you want your mother and sister there instead?”
“It will strengthen my challenge even more if the people see myagacinpraying with me. That is how they see you.”
“As yours or as anagacin?”
His finger slid over the knuckles of one of her hands. “Can it not be both?”
Her fingers fanned out, then briefly closed around his. Her dark eyes were bleak. “No, it can’t.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
All of Clan Kestrel had gathered for the fight between Azarion and Karsas over the role of clan leader. People on foot and on horseback created a vast ring on an area of the steppe not far from the clan’s encampment. Several members of the visiting clans had stayed as well to witness the combat, partly from curiosity or entertainment and partly to report back to their own clans as to who emerged victorious to rule Clan Kestrel.
Gilene stood at the very front of the makeshift arena next to Tamura. Saruke flanked her daughter’s other side. Both women looked as grim as Gilene felt. Azarion had gotten what he wanted, the chance to challenge. That he might die in the effort to regain his birthright didn’t seem to bother him. It scared her, and if the tight expressions on his mother’s and sister’s faces were any indication, it terrified them.
Across the stretch of grass, she spotted Karsas’s wife and children surrounded by a retinue of his supporters. Arita wore a different expression from those who surrounded her, different from Tamura and Saruke. Hers was a bland facade, as if the confrontation about to take place held no more interest for her than watching sheep graze. Her children, a boy and a girl, neither of whom looked older than five or six, hugged her legs. Unlike their mother, they watched the gathering with wide, frightened eyes.
Gilene gestured to Arita with a lift of her chin. “What will become of Arita if Karsas loses?”
Tamura’s arms crossed, her fingers digging into her upper arms. Time in the sun had burnished her skin to a golden brown, but now the color leached away, and her green eyes, so like her brother’s, burned.
She glanced at Gilene from the corner of one eye. “It depends on many things. Arita and her children may return to her clan. She was Clan Eagle. They’d welcome her back simply for her value as a bride to anotherataman.” Such bitterness laced her words that Gilene’s eyebrows rose. “Or she may choose to stay here if Azarion, asataman, allows it.” This time Tamura faced Gilene fully, that green gaze as piercing as a lance. “He may also wish to take her for his wife and name her children as his. It’s been done before.”
Something lurched inside Gilene, an unexpected and unwelcome pain. The memory of Azarion’s kiss lingered in her mind and on her mouth. The brutal Pit fighter possessed many facets, including gentleness and passion. The thought of him sharing those with another made her nauseated and then annoyed.
Whom he chose or didn’t choose as his wife was no concern of hers. His reason for bringing her to the Stara Dragana and her role in his rise in status were fulfilled. He was nothing more to her than the means by which she’d return to Beroe, just as she was no more than the means by which he’d regain his rightful place among his clansmen. None of that eased the ache in her chest. Her mind spoke reason; her heart refused to listen.
“It must be hard for her to witness this fight.” She congratulated herself on the evenness of her tone.
Tamura shrugged and stared at Arita. A wistful look settledover her features. “I don’t know. Theirs was a match arranged by their families. Arita has always followed their commands above her own desires.”
There was far more to the woman’s comments than the surface meaning of her words, and the words themselves settled like stones in Gilene’s belly. She followed Tamura’s gaze. If Karsas had been the desire of Arita’s family, who was Arita’s desire? Had it been Tamura? She shook off her own jealousy over the idea of Azarion taking a wife, only to have melancholy take its place. If she interpreted Tamura’s unspoken emotions correctly, how sad it must be to watch the one you love bind themselves to another and start a life with them, a life played out before you every day, with nothing to do but watch.
She wished she could offer some comfort or even a simple touch on the arm to let Tamura know she understood, but Azarion’s sister was not a woman to welcome such an overt display of affection.
The crowd’s raucous din diverted her attention. Both Azarion and Karsas traveled along a cleared path created by observers standing on either side. Each man rode a mare and was unarmored except for vambraces and whatever meager protection padded leather tunics and heavy trousers might offer. Both carried a sword sheathed in a scabbard tied to the horse’s saddle instead of to the man himself.
The path opened up to the grassy arena where the two men would battle to the death for the title ofataman. They parted ways at its entrance so that Karsas circled to the left to pass in front of his wife and retinue while Azarion turned right and guided his mount toward the spot where Gilene stood with Saruke and Tamura.
