The sitting area had been greatly expanded on their return, rugs had been laid out on the dirt court, and couches and chaise from the sitting rooms bought for the ladies. Small tables were already being filled with cheeses and dried fruit, and another table was arranged with an assortment of wines from the cellar. Anette and Sylus’ seneschal gestured for them to return to their original seats, the table they were using expanded to accommodate more seats with a clear view to the sparring yard that was being used for the tournament.

  Bastian trotted over to Hart to get an update on the status of the competition while they seated themselves, and returned to continue offering his commentary. As he was explaining the single matches that were about to occur, including an exciting account of the betting trends on an underdog favorite, Viridian Guards disrupted the event to announce Sylus’ arrival.

  Sylus had his silver hair plaited, and wore robes fitting a ballroom instead of their distant keep and improvised afternoon diversion. At his arms and behind him was his entourage of female companions, who he led to the sitting area and served drinks with a mocking smile before seating himself and his favored companions with his cousins.

  “What a funny idea!” he commented as a servant bought him a drink, “I heard your Fae were to fight and knew I had to see the outcome for myself!”

  “I shall take great pleasure in watching the Phoenix company beat the best of your retinue into the dust,” Dorius sneered in reply.

  Sylus shrugged, “Of course they would, the Guard are peacekeepers and ceremonial. Most of us would consider it too coarse to use mercenaries even if it were the most we could afford.”

  Dorius set his cup down with a clink of china, “Have you no men who might offer any challenge?” he goaded.

  Sylus chuckled, “There is nothing of value to win here cousin. Do not make out an evening of practice for the soldiers as anything more meaningful than it is.”

  The first few rounds passed to great amusement of the watching servants, cheers and boos alike going up based on the betting trends or favorites within the crowd. As Val and Til’wane neared their participation, Dorius dismissed them to warm up, Hart and another younger Company man replacing their guard.

  Val watched the rounds as she stretched in the shade of the keep, true to predictions the Phoenix Company made up the majority of the finalists, with only one or two Viridian or Ivory Guard making the later rounds. Til’wane prepared in his own way, sitting crossed legged and meditatively watching the form of the rounds. They had both stripped down to more comfortable layers, Val in her breast bindings and a mix of Company leather, Til’wane choosing to go shirtless, his ashen skin and hairless chest an impressive sight.

  “What are the rules?” he asked suddenly, and Val turned her head a little shocked for a moment before realizing he had likely been thrown into something he had no experience of.

  “It is simple enough, close combat against one competitor. Win is several methods, push them from the marked ring, disarm or surrender. Goal is not to hurt them, so go gentle with the humans,” and as an afterthought added, “They are smaller than us, so sometimes they get beneath you in a way that is odd to guard against. I don’t recommend pushing them from the ring right from the start, they get disappointed. Wait till you get bored of fighting them. And don’t use your horns with them, they don’t have any.”

  “How gentle? I have never sparred with a hume in practice.”

  Val considered what comparison to make, “Are you like I was, only coming into your strength as your horns grew in?”

  Til’wane nodded.

  “Then as with a child before their horns.”

  Til’wane seemed slightly shocked, “And with you? I have not crossed with an alate?”

  Val grinned with a touch of excitement, “We shall see. The allowed weapons are over there if you would like to look.”

  Til’wane nodded, and continued keenly watching the combat to learn what he could of the human styles. Val felt herself overcome with curiosity and asked, “Is this something you do as well?”

  “It is essential practice for all soldier caste that are recruited into military roles. I was selected young, it is a better calling than labor. We learn before our strength comes in against practice dummies and later in drills or with each other. We aim not to kill or maim, but some level of injury is acceptable.”

  Val nodded thoughtfully, “You heal from breaks and bruises quick?” and when Til’wane stared at her blankly, added, “I heal quickly compared to humans, and had not considered it was a species trait. I guess you do not have a comparison though.”

  “The humes seem weaker than I had ever imagined them. Why do they look down on us as beasts? Do they not know what you are or that you hear the secret voices they are deaf to?”

  Val rocked out of her stretch, and had to think for a good moment to give an adequate answer, “It is to our advantage that they think that way. What they do not expect is more dangerous to them than any weapon in the open. The only ones who matter are those that do know differently, but,” she admitted, “It has been very lonely.”

  Til’wane was silent. If he felt similar feelings since leaving his own colony he did not share them with her, so instead Val asked, “What need does your colony have for a military?”

  “We serve both an internal and external protective role. Sometimes law and order must be enforced, as we are the ones to do so, but it is rare. The caste system gives all a role and purpose. Mostly we protect the colony, there are creatures in the dark earth that rise on occasion, creatures not within the Wolf god’s children. There are wild hume’s as well, they sometimes get into the upper valleys of the Mountain.”

  “Wild humes? Bandits?” asked Val curious.

  “Sometimes, sometimes the humes twisted by the silent songs.”

  Val thought for a moment, and concluded he might mean the wild Fae. It seemed fitting that to humans, everything that was not them was Fae, and maybe to his species, everything that was not Laon was Hume. There was so little curiosity to understand.

  Bastian trotted over to join them as a bout was finishing to cheers from the crowd.

  “Val you’ll be against an Ivory that made it to the final round. Don’t beat him too quick, poor guy,” he announced, “Til, you’ve got a Phoenix Company vet, he’s fought with Val before so might know some tricks.”

  Til’wane blinked at the shortening of his name.

  “Is it Hugh?” asked Val, remembering the faces of the previous bouts she’d been watching. Bastian nodded, turning to look over the sparring ring with them.

  “He’s an easier start for your first match against a human,” commented Val to Til’wane casually, “Bit bigger, and too proud to get underneath you. Just aim for his weapon, and when you are done hit it hard enough to break it from his grip.”

  Bastian turned an eye to her, “Are we really so weak compared to you?”

  “You snap no differently from twigs,” replied Val, leaning on her hand and sitting cross legged like Til’wane. Bastian swallowed and turned back to the match with an odd look in his eye.

  Feeling in a curious mood Val asked, “Having fun with Sylus?”

  Bastian allowed himself a look of disgust, they were far enough for the dias where the royal family were watching, and said sarcastically, “He inspires so much faith in the royal family. I can’t believe Dorius lets them speak to you like that.”

  Val hummed, “What’s he gonna do?”

  Bastian scowled, his golden eyes gleaming, “To speak as if you were a bitch in heat…”

  Val rolled her chin in her hand to look up at him between her horns, “Pay it no mind. I’ve heard worse. I find it more insulting that the rooms they gave us are little more than closets. I had to sleep in Dorius’ room.”

  “Alone?” there was a hitch to Bastian’s voice as he asked the question.

  “Til’wane too.”

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  “Hmm. Good luck to your fight then, Til will go, then you. We can probably entertain them with a break if you need a rest,” Bastian kicked at the dirt and put his hands in his pockets.

  “I won’t.”

  Bastian gave her a look with a raised eyebrow, “I best not leave Dorius too long with only Sylus for company then.” He then added with a grin, “Don’t set anything on fire.”

  Val grunted and watched him return.

  Til’wane’s bout was quick. With the wooden practice swords they exchanged a few blows, and Val could see Til’wane’s shock at how light the first hit was. He moved as she did, keeping a longer distance that shorter humans struggled to close and would be near impossible without a polearm. He parried a few more blows, stepping back confidently, and tested a few light blows of his own, each growing in strength until his competitor stepped back shaking out his wrist from the jarring force of his strikes. She had never used her full strength when sparring with the mercenaries, and it was likely shocking to the fellow if Til’wane was testing his limits.

  Val noted with a thought that his technique was better than her own, likely from fighting his own kind whereas she was always able to fall back on brute force when situations got complicated. It might be interesting to learn from him, she thought. The crowd was not taking much interest in such a one sided match, so as Val had instructed Til’wane rained a series of blows at the opponent's wooden sword, not even bothering to aim for the man himself, and his wrist gave way with a yelp, sword dropped to the ground. Hand raised, his opponent gave a surrender, and Til’wane left the ring impassive.

  Val was next, and she stretched herself across the sparring ring from her opponent, who was already looking pale having watched the previous bout. She bounced the small sparring sword in her hand, and sniffed as she looked down at the man, covered in padded armor while she chose to wear so little. He steeled himself, and as the start was called gave a confident yell and unleashed a flurry of blows. Val did as Til’wane did, steeping back to maintain her distance. His strategy was sound, try speed hoping such a large creature was slow, and get between her and her sword where she’d be at a disadvantage. Unfortunately for him, she was just as fast, so she let him show his swordsmanship off while she parried and backed up to the edge of the ring. As she drew close, she gave him a small grin, startling the man, and pushed back. The effort of blocking her blows was wearing on him, and she lowered herself and leaned forward, sliding her blade down his and meeting the guard. A twist of her wrist, even with poor leverage, was enough with her strength and he was disarmed.

  There was little disappointment from the crowd, it was the outcome they expected and nothing more than a distraction from the main event. Excitement buzzed in the air for Val and Til’wane, and they were asked to wait a moment while final bets were placed. Val watched the exchange of odds with mild curiosity, and was interested to see the odds slightly favored Til’wane. She cast a glance over to Dorius and the other royals, and saw the General and Viridians were in discussion while Dorius and Bastian looked back at her, Dorius with a gleam of expectation and Bastian a touch pale.

  Sylus rose in his chair, arms wide and sleeves hanging to the floor, “No holds barred beasts! Let us see what you can do,” he commanded. A cheer went up from the crowd.

  Val caught Dorius’ eye, and he gave her the slightest of nods in return, so she leaned to Til’wane and whispered, “Let us try not to injure each other, but otherwise I am curious to test myself.”

  The Laon grunted, and she saw the closest to a smile she had ever seen from him, then they both walked into the ring with their wooden swords. Unlike with their human opponents, they each held their weapon at the ready, wary of one another, and waited at a paces distance for the call to start.

  At the shout to begin, neither surged into action, instead they cautiously traded a few blows, assessing the distance, reach and relative strength of the other. Val felt a rush of excitement after the first few exchanges, each strike growing in force as they both tested their strength. With similar timing, they both shifted from exploration to actual aggression, now trading blows that aimed for flesh and parrying in actual defense. To Val’s shock, Til’wane landed the first hit and the blunt wooden blade bounced off her bicep instead of the deep cut or possible loss of her arm she would have received in real combat, she was so startled she did not return her own blow in the opening it created, and stepped back.

  She looked upon him with a new appreciation, and he had a glint of satisfaction in his own eye. With a roar, she threw her full strength into the next swing, and as he met her their wooden swords exploded into splinters. There was barely a moment of recognition or pause, and both surged into the other again. Val lowered her shoulders as Til’wane did the same, tossing the shattered swords free and they met head first, horns entangled. Their first crash they locked for a moment, torsos and shoulders straining as they tested their relative strengths. Til’wane pulled back first, Val’s foot slipping in the sand as she chased him, and they locked horns again with a deafening crash as he adjusted his position relative to her. Somewhere, she heard the crowd roar with excitement at this turn of events.

  She felt him gather his strength beneath himself, eager to push her upwards and off balance. She instead bore down, pulling back for a moment and hammering downwards again, her neck and shoulders shuddering with the force of the impact as their horns locked. He had one hand on the ground to brace himself, halting her assault. Instinctually, they both took a position with their bodies far apart, keeping vulnerable legs and torso well clear of the other. Val reached out with her arms, and they exchanged grapples and shoves off one another's shoulders and upper arms, testing the flow of weight and balance as their horns remained locked.

  Sweat beaded down her arms and back and they both strained, and Val felt she had the advantage of strength if she could get into a position to use it. Then each retreated, low to the ground and balancing their weight with a hand and the other outstretched towards their opponent, more like three limbed bulls in combat rather than men.

  Val took stock of their first exchange between heavy breaths. It was tempting to come from above and use her weight along with her strength to overcome her opponent. But the advantage of being underneath was the ground acted as a brace to push against, and based on Til’wane’s adjustments under her she was certain he was seeking a position of leverage. If the opponent could be pushed sideways, or a quick retreat made in the right moment, an opening would be created as they fell forwards or lost balance. The trick would be not falling for the same move first.

  A shift in Til’wane’s foot alerted her to his intention and hand outstretched he came at her again. She slapped his arm with one hand, and came up to push against his shoulder with her other, aiming for a position beneath his weight this time. Her whole body shuddered as their horns crashed again, and she twisted her head this time to lock them both together. She felt one hand on her chin horn, pushing her face to try and untangle their horns. Snarling she stepped forward and rose, and they both came together as she tilted him upwards. The center of gravity shifted and their torsos met. She bought both arms together, wrapped around his torso to lock him against her. His hands were at her shoulders, trying to weaken her hold, when suddenly with a twist his horns broke free, the broken horn slipping against hers. Val lost control of her weight when he was suddenly not there to push back, and braced against his torso to balance a fall forward.

  He pulled back, seeking to let her collapse forward under her own weight and momentum, and he took a step backwards. She instead slipped her foot forward through the sand again, and took the break in contact to lower herself again seeking the leverage to lift him. She chased after him, getting her shoulder hooked beneath his and lowered both arms to grasp his waist belt and lift him bodily into the air.

  As his feet left the ground she felt his panic, one hand still grasping her chin horn, trying to turn her head from him and shake her balance and another holding onto the edge of her leathers. She twisted and tossed his weight to her side, sending him tumbling to the sand, the broken tip of his horn catching her beneath her breast and tearing open a shallow wound. He crashed to the earth with a thud, the shock of the fall taking his breath with a groan. She drew back, panting, hand to the wound and black inky blood already seeping between her finger tips, and waited for Til’wane to collect himself.

  The Laon got both hands under his body and lifted himself into a crouch, breathing heavily, seeming for a moment as if he intended to surge after her again and continue their grappling. Then spying her blood, and a quick hand to his broken horn, he held open both palms as he had seen the humans do in surrender.

  The crowd burst into a roar of disappointment, but Val was panting heavily and ready to be done. Til’wane appeared just as spent, sweat dripping down his naked torso smeared with dirt, and they exchanged a glance that, despite his surrender, indicated they both considered this outcome a tie. Val felt a newfound respect for the Laon, jealous of the advantage he had had his whole life training with his own kind. In turn, there was a tilt to his head that indicated he looked at her in a new light, although she hadn't the faintest clue what his thoughts could have been.

  Sylus was on his feet again, roaring along with the crowd for them to continue their combat despite the surrender. He stepped down from the dias approaching the ring, “Fight Fae, do not stop for mere blood!”

  Val looked at her fingers, the cut was shallow enough but had a ragged edge from the uneven peeling edges of Til’wane’s horn, and wiped the blood on the leg of her pants. She then offered a hand down to Til’wane who took it to help him stand, his face was calm, but his hard breathing indicated he was still catching his breath after having the wind knocked from him in the throw.

  “Why will you not fight beasts, I order you!” commanded Sylus with the exasperation of someone unused to being ignored. He stepped within the ring to approach them.

  Val turned to face him squarely, lowering her shoulders and exhaling through her nose in warning. She met his eyes, and saw a spark of fear as Sylus realized he stood alone with them. The sudden power she felt raced through her blood like fire.

  “Val.”

  Dorius’ voice cut through the noise of the crowd, the single word clear with command. Even Sylus turned to look at his cousin in shock, then back to Val who had obediently turned her eyes towards Dorius, every inch of her demeanor the taut weapon at his command. Sylus gaped at her, his face warping to cold rage, and she met his eyes again in icy warning.

  I could kill you. And I would if commanded.

  Dorius, with a deceptive calm, came down from the dias towards his cousin, “It was a tie the moment their weapons shattered and they were disarmed,” a disappointed roar came from those who had bet on the outcome and Dorius raised a hand to the crowd and announced, “Everyone who placed a bet will get their coin back, and an extra from myself for a drink tonight. Let us not spoil a good day of entertainment.”

  He came close to Sylus then, deliberately placing himself between his cousin and his two guards, his voice quieter, “The fight is over. I will not have them injure themselves further.”

  Sylus only stared open mouthed at his cousin, his composure and control lost, and his efforts to straighten his robes and hair seemed foolish as the horned Laons, covered in sweat and dirt from battle watched him. Dorius calmly waited, hands within his sleeves.

  “Get out,” he hissed, then louder, “Get out of my keep!”

  “No.”

  Sylus almost spasmed with fury at the cold retort, “Get Out!” he repeated again, his wits gone in his rage.

  “The Pentarch has ordered me here. It is his keep. I will leave at my own leisure,” replied Dorius calmly. And with a gesture Val recognized as the Laon word to come, he turned to return to the keep with Val and Til’wane obeying silently.

  As they reached the door, and Dorius' servants rushing ahead to anticipate their Prince, Dorius placed a hand on Val’s forearm in the shelter of the doorway where they would not be seen.

  “We’ll be in danger now,” he admitted, and his eyes were distant.