“You will if you take me up there with you,” another male voice said.
They both turned around—well, Alana had no choice with Christoph’s arm holding her so tightly. The man who had come up behind them was blond, brown eyed, and handsome. As tall as Christoph and about the same age. Apparently nobles did attend these festivals because the man’s rich apparel spoke for itself. He also had his arms around not one but two young women, both clinging to his sides.
“It’s good to see you again, Christo,” the man said sarcastically. “But I’m afraid you won’t have any fun here if you’re on a rebel hunt. These are good people loyal to Frederick.”
“And to you? There is more than one way to be disloyal to a king, Karsten.”
The tension between the two men escalated, with Karsten scowling over that remark. “You aren’t actually accusing me of something, are you?”
“Does it look like I’m on duty today?” Christoph countered. “I was curious, though, after hearing such glowing reports about you lately, to see if you really have begun shouldering a few responsibilities for your family. The last time I saw you—when was it, two years ago? You were still carousing your way through your twenties.”
Karsten laughed now. “And you didn’t?”
Christoph shrugged. “I spent most of those years at the palace. Of course when I’m not on duty . . .”
He bent toward Alana to kiss her neck to make his point. It took every ounce of her willpower not to blush and to put her hand to his cheek as if she welcomed his attention. But that also drew Karsten’s attention to her.
Looking at Alana with interest in his eyes, the young noble asked Christoph, “Who is your new mistress?”
“Much too new to introduce to you, so forget it. I’ll be keeping her name to myself.”
Karsten laughed again. “You’ve never forgiven me for luring that Austrian wench away from you, have you?”
“What Austrian wench?”
Both men laughed this time. The tension was gone, too. Karsten even nodded toward the wrestling platform again. “Let’s give it a turn, eh?”
They moved toward the platform. The last match was over, but the winner was still up there waiting for another challenger. When Christoph and Karsten both stripped down to just their pants and boots, the fellow quickly hopped off the platform to make room for them. Imagine doing this at this time of the year! They ought to be shivering, Alana thought. But neither young man seemed to be bothered by the cold.
Alana tried to look away, she really did. Propriety demanded it! She even half-turned her face from the platform, but her eyes just wouldn’t obey and she finally gave up trying. Good Lord, Christoph’s body was superb. The noble wasn’t skinny by any means, yet there really was no comparison. Christoph had more strength in his arms, across that wide back and muscular chest. His legs were more muscular, too, and from the expression on his face Alana could see he knew he was going to win, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. But Karsten didn’t look worried. Maybe there was more to wrestling than just brawn.
They circled each other, arms out, each making a few false moves. Then the grappling began, the straining, and the crowd started cheering, which brought even more people over to watch. She kept hearing “captain” whispered, but also “Bruslan.” Karsten was one of the notorious Bruslans? Good grief, Christoph was wrestling with one of the old king’s descendants? Was this his official business here today, to find out what Karsten Bruslan was up to?
She kept getting jostled farther back by the crowd as more and more people rushed over to watch two noblemen playing at one of their sports. It didn’t look as if either contestant was abiding by the rules. Christoph had a couple opportunities where he could easily have tossed Karsten off the platform, but it seemed both men would rather win the contest in a more grueling way by actually proving who was the better wrestler.
She was jostled again, more rudely this time. Some of her ale actually sloshed out of her mug. The little she’d drunk had relaxed her nicely, so she didn’t want any more of it. She looked for someplace to set the mug down without having to return to that overly warm tent and headed to an overturned crate by one of the games that was presently unattended.
“Your fortune, m’lady?” someone asked behind her.
She turned to decline the offer, then gasped as she realized who it was disguised to look like an old crone. “Poppie?”
“Look at the entertainment, not at me.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Henry told me, but there’s no time to catch up. I came to warn you that the man who stole your bracelet is a spy who works for the same people who hired me. They may conclude you are still alive, so be on your guard.”
“Can I tell the captain this?”
“Do you trust him?”
“I—yes, I do.”
“I had hoped to follow these people to their meetings, but I will leave it to your discretion. I must go, it’s not safe for me here.”
She heard him slip away and resisted the impulse to watch him go. She felt a pang of loneliness. She wanted to go with him! She sighed to herself. She and Poppie shouldn’t have to sneak around like this to meet. She should already be with her father, her protection assured, and Christoph should be working with Poppie instead of working against her. Did she really trust him? Yes, she supposed she did. He was completely devoted to her father’s protection, which was why he couldn’t simply take her at her word. Knowing about the other imposters, she couldn’t even blame him for being so suspicious. And he was even giving her a day of fun to make up for yesterday. Claiming he had to keep an eye on her was an obvious excuse when he could just have left her in that cell all day.
The tug on her coat drew her eyes down to a little girl who pointed in the opposite direction of the wrestling platform and said, “My dog. Help please.”
