“Get out of my way, Paulson,” he growled.
“And if I obey, what are you going to do, Your Highness?” the guard asked.
“I’m going to kill Bertrand,” Theo told him, perfectly calmly.
“I think I’d best not obey, then,” Paulson said in a mild tone, still blocking Theo’s path with surprising strength. “I never thought I’d see you overreact to an insult to your ego, Your Highness, if I’m not too bold to say it.”
“The insult to me is nothing,” Theo said impatiently. “That contemptible rodent accosted Elowen last night, and now he speaks of her like she’s his possession.”
Paulson made a noise of disgust in his throat, but he stood firm. “Best not to do something you’ll regret, Your Highness. Your time would be better spent hearing my report.”
That pulled Theo up. Breathing hard, most of his mind still roaring at him to pound Bertrand’s face into the dust, he looked at his guard properly for the first time.
“You’re back.”
“Yes, Your Highness. And I have a report for you.”
“Good. You can give it to me after I make him regret ever letting the princess’s name pass his lips in public.”
But when Theo looked up, he saw that Bertrand was leaving, presumably for the tournament. Short of chasing him from the training yard with fists raised, Theo couldn’t confront him right now.
With great effort, he contained his anger and curtly demanded Paulson’s report. He listened with a sinking heart as his guard laid out everything he’d learned. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Leave it with me,” he told his guard. “But be ready to report to King Ronan when I call on you.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The guard looked him over with a critical eye. “Are you well? Have you been safe in my absence?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Theo said impatiently. “I was never in any danger in the first place.” At least not physical danger.
Still coursing with frustrated energy, Theo left for the tournament. All thought of dropping out was gone. It was clear that if he did so, Bertrand would win, because no one was going to challenge him.
No one but Theo, obviously. He may not be able to beat every member of the court, but he could beat Bertrand.
He felt the eyes of the master of events on him when he entered the tournament field, and knew the nobleman expected him to withdraw. Well, he’d be disappointed. Theo’s gaze foundElowen in the stands, her hands clasped over her heart in a tense gesture he didn’t think she was aware of. But her posture relaxed when she caught sight of him, and that buoyed Theo up more than any training session could have.
She’d called him her champion once, and that was what he intended to be. If it was in his power, he would never let any man make her feel fear again. Feeling reckless and giving in to impulse, he raised his right fist and laid it over his heart. He thought he caught surprise on her face as he turned away.
Theo’s first two fights were swift and decisive. The prospect of facing Bertrand was the best motivation he could ask for, and his sword work had never had more force or precision. He watched critically from the sidelines as Bertrand won the second of his fights as well. The man he was facing was one of the best Theo had seen in the training yard. His disappointment at having to throw the match was visible on his face, but Bertrand either couldn’t or wouldn’t see it. His cocky sneer as he saw Theo watching him acknowledge his victory made Theo wish there wasn’t a scheduled break before their fight.
At least Theo could be sure Bertrand wouldn’t throw their bout. It would be much more satisfying to annihilate him with the knowledge that it had been a genuine match.
Theo was tempted to approach Elowen during the break, but he decided he should keep his mind clear. The memory of her pale face and expressive eyes when she’d confessed to being afraid was already wreaking enough havoc on his mind. Better not to have a close view of those speaking eyes.
When he emerged from the tent ready for his final fight, however, he was confronted with exactly that. The stands were packed with spectators, but the princess wasn’t among them. She and the rest of the royal family occupied a small raised dais right next to the narrow strip where Theo and Bertrand were to fight. Had she been so inclined, she could have leaned over therailing and touched them while they listened to the master of events introduce the final round of weapons combat.
Theo and Bertrand paced away from the center as instructed, turning to face one another as they waited for the bugle blast that would signify the start of the fight. They each wore light chainmail because it was required by the tournament rules, but Theo would have preferred the agility that came with only his training clothes. He spun his sword in his hand as the seconds stretched out, neither he nor Bertrand having opted to use a shield.
Bertrand’s face was derisive and arrogant, clearly confident of a win. Theo’s face showed nothing. The blind fury of the morning was gone, replaced with a calm determination that would likely serve him better. He was going to punish Bertrand for his treatment of Elowen. He was going to do it in front of everyone whose opinion Bertrand cared about. And it was all a sanctioned, civilized activity.
Really, it was quite a windfall.
Chapter
Sixteen
The bugle blast sent both men churning into motion. They didn’t take time to test the waters or size each other up. Both had been doing that from the sidelines through each round of the tournament, and both were eager for blood. Their weapons clashed together with a vicious clang that ran through the silent, watchful stands.
Bertrand drew back and lunged again, their weapons crossing as Theo held him off, faces close enough to see the sweat starting to bead on each forehead.
