And he would never see her again, not until they faced each other in battle one day, and that he could not do.
“James,” she said raggedly. “Dinnae make me do this.”
“Do wot?” he challenged, knowing he had her tight. “Allow yerself tae feel wot ye will be missing if ye walk away from me? Ye said ye want tae fight. Well, I want ye tae fight for us, lass.”
He felt her tremble in his arms as the crowd booed them, the shouts urging them on to fight each other growing louder by the moment.
“Nay,” she murmured. “I was talking aboot this.”
In an instant, her head reared back and collided with his nose, the crunch of bone causing James to weaken his hold as pain shot up into his head. Iris took the advantage and broke through his grasp, spinning around. His vision was narrowed as his eyes welled with tears and his hand came back with blood, but his broken nose wasn’t the immediate concern for James.
It was the fact that he had a sting on his arm, and when he looked down, he saw a clear thin line from her sword.
She had drawn blood. Iris had won.
The crowd erupted, but James didn’t peel his gaze from hers, seeing how her eyes suddenly widened as she took him in.
“Ye did it,” he said, his voice sounding nothing like his own. “Ye won, Iris. How does it feel?”
She flinched at his harsh words and turned her heel, hurrying out of the ring a moment later. James watched her retreating back and felt every hope he had built up inside him wither and die.
It was over in more ways than one.
“Bloody hell, man,” Matteau’s voice came out of the fog before a piece of cloth was shoved against James’s nose to staunch the blood. “’Tis not yer finest moment, mah friend.”
“She did it,” James said, unable to believe it. He thought he could reach her somehow.
“Of course she bloody did,” Matteau said harshly, though his voice held a hint of concern for his friend. “And look at ye now. Ye should have picked up yer sword.”
James shook his hand, groaning as the pain grew.
“Nay. She needed tae see I wasnae giving up.”
“A lot of good that did ye,” Matteau muttered as he steered James out of the ring and toward the tents. “I have tae admit… That was likely the only time I’ve ever seen something like that.”
James didn’t respond, tears leaking out of his eyes from the pain in his nose. Matteau was right. A lot of good he had done by confronting Iris like that, and now he was helpless to know what was going to happen next. Now that the games were complete, they would depart for home, and the ties between the two clans were still fragile at best.
Nothing had worked out in his favor. Nothing at all.
18
Iris pushed open the flap to her tent, her heart racing. She couldn’t believe what had just happened in the ring, what James had forced her to do, and she felt sick to her stomach at the thought.
She had hurt him. She had not only cut him to win the games but also broken his nose in the process. It was a move she had used many times over in battle when someone had underestimated her but never had she done it against someone she cared for.
Her hands shaking, Iris fell onto her cot, suddenly dizzy. It was that fool’s fault he had forced her to take drastic measures like that! If only he had fought her like a warrior would, she wouldn’t have.
What sort of person had that made her? She felt no victory in what she had done, none at all! It wasn’t what she had expected to happen.
“Iris?”
Iris looked up to find Ian standing at the doorway of the tent, concern flickering over his face.
“Wot do ye want?” she lashed out. “I did it. I won.”
He stepped inside, shutting out any onlookers, and took a seat next to her on the cot, the wood groaning under his weight.
“Aye, ye did, lass,” he said quietly, not sounding like her brother at all. “But at wot cost tae ye?”
