Celesta and one of the women took Victoria by the arms and moved her back to the sidelines, then close to the stump where Danel usually sat. They moved away, leaving her to stand alone like a prize to be won.
The camp buzzed with excitement. Men lifted their children onto their shoulders. The crowd jostled one another, seeking the best views.
She hated this. She said, “This is really not the best way to solve an argument— ”
Danel’s blade slashed toward Raul, a movement so fast Victoria flinched only when it was done.
Yet the point never touched Raul; he moved out of the way too swiftly.
The two fighters went into half squats, holding their blades as if they were extensions of their hands. As they moved within the circle, the cloth between them was first taut, then loose, then taut again. Raul made his move in a flurry of slashes so fast Victoria couldn’t see them. Danel leaped and parried, and when the exchange was over, both men were bloodied, Raul on his neck, Danel on his arm.
Victoria gasped in terror.
No one else made a sound. The only thing Victoria could hear was the two men breathing, and the incongruous song of the mockingbird.
The length of cloth drooped between them.
Danel grabbed it and, blade out, yanked Raul close.
Raul’s blade clanked against his.
They broke apart.
Now both men had stab wounds to the chest. Not deep, apparently, for neither gave an inch.
But Danel taunted, “So all was not lost when you went to live the soft life in England. You remember a little of your early training.”
Raul’s white teeth flashed in his tanned face. “I remember I was always faster than you.”
It was then, hearing the mockery and bickering, that Victoria realized—the fighters were enjoying themselves.
Yes, they were serious.
This was, no doubt, a fight to the death.
But they were having fun.
She had noted many times in her life that men were stupid.
These two were especially stupid.
How these men had managed to work themselves into their positions of power, she did not know, nor did she believe it reflected well on the women that they had allowed such a thing to happen.
She cast her gaze around.
Every eye was fixed on the battle.
The blades clanged together in a steady rhythm. The men leaped and shuffled. Blood seeped from cuts on their faces, their arms, their chests.
Moving guardedly, Victoria picked up Raul’s sword.
She drew it from the scabbard, and before anyone could stop her, she walked into the circle and approached the two men.
They were so intent on each other, squatting in fight position, that neither saw her coming until she was standing between them.
Then they both froze. They stared at her.
She put the point of the sword to Danel’s throat. “Tell him the truth about last night.”
Cunning and calculation shifted in Danel’s eyes.
“I would gladly kill you,” she said. “You know I will. I proved that last night. Now— tell him the truth.”
Danel used his knife to push the point away from his throat, straightened, and said,“She spent the night alone in my tent.”
“Tell him why,” she said.
In dire tones, Raul said, “Woman, you should go sit.”
She ignored him, gazing right into Danel’s eyes.
“Tell … him … why.”
“She stole my pistol!” Danel admitted.
“She stole your pistol?” Raul stopped behaving like a barbarian, stood up straight, and looked between them.
“And she shot at me. If I hadn’t jumped out of the way, she would have shot me right through the heart!” Danel appeared truly hurt at the idea.
“But there’s only one shot in a pistol.” Raul shook his head. “If she shot it, then why … ?”
Danel glowered. “Because she stole both my pistols.”
Raul passed his hand over his mouth, wiping his smile away.
“She knew how to use those pistols!” Danel almost frothed with indignation. “An En
glishwoman! It’s
unheard-of.”
“I do know how to use a pistol,” Victoria assured him. “Much better than I know how to use this sword.
So I suggest you two stand as far apart as possible and stretch that cloth tight, because …” She lifted the sword over her head.
In fear and horror, the two men sprang away from each other.
She brought the sword down with all her might, and slashed the cloth in half. “Now,” she said calmly, “stop dancing and kill each other.”
Chapter Thirty-six
The entire camp stood openmouthed with shock.
Immobile, Raul and Danel stared at the limp rags hanging from their wrists.
Sword point in the dirt, hand on her hip, Victoria waited.
Raul thundered, “Woman! Don’t you know better than to interfere in the business of men?”
“Yes, woman! It’s not your place to— ” Danel stopped and took a breath. “It’s not your place to …” He cackled, then put on a stern face. “To instruct us in the art of the fight— ”
Raul snorted.
Danel chortled.
They both snickered.
The crowd nudged one another and grinned.
Raul and Danel broke into a guffaw.Then they fell on each other, slapping each other on the back and laughing so hard tears streamed down their faces.
Victoria watched them in disgust, shook her head, and hoped they didn’t accidently stab each other with the knives they still clutched.
In a falsetto voice with a fake British accent, Danel mimicked, “ ‘Stop dancing and kill each other.’ ” And he brayed with laughter.
Raul staggered away, hooting.
Danel bent from the waist and gasped for air. He finally got control long enough to ask, “How do you stand her?”
Raul straightened up and looked at Victoria, his eyes wicked. “It’s like breaking a high-spirited horse. After the initial bucking and resistance, I stay in the saddle and prove I’m the master.” His smile faded. “Then the ride smoothes out and I’m mounted on the wind.”
Caught in his gaze, she stared at him, and wondered how he could say something so incredibly insulting and make it a seduction.
“Hey!” Danel shoved Raul’s shoulder, breaking their eye contact.“You’re crazy. Give me a good sturdy mountain pony every time.” He sheathed his knife, asked a question in Moricadian.
Victoria thought it was, Do you want to do … something? She couldn’t quite comprehend that last word.
The crowd leaned forward to hear the answer.
With a wry smile, Raul answered in the affirmative.
Once again, every eye turned to Victoria.
Some nodded. Some grinned. Some shook their heads. Some eyed her warily.
Never had she cursed her inability to completely grasp a language.
“It’s your funeral.” Danel slapped Raul on the shoulder. “Come, cousin, let’s break bread together.”
As quickly as that, they called a truce.
With a sigh, Victoria relaxed.
Her gamble had paid off. Raul and Danel hadn’t killed each other. They hadn’t really wanted to. But if she hadn’t stepped in, manly pride would have caused a disaster for them both, and for Moricadia.
The crowd drifted away and returned to eating, to washing, to tending the children.
Raul approached Victoria and held out his hands for his sword. “May I?”
Victoria handed it to him, hilt first. “What kind of cousins try to kill each other?”
“Cousins who are fighting over the right to sit on the same throne.” Danel stomped to his tree-trunk throne, dragged the rug onto the ground and kicked the cushions atop it, then bellowed, “Hey! We’re hungry!”
“You’re bleeding, both of you.” Victoria untied the remnant of cloth from Raul’s
wrist and used it to stanch the flow of blood on his face, chest, and arms.
“We need wine!” Danel shouted.
“Water their wine,” Victoria instructed Celesta, “or with this blood loss, they’ll be drooling in their bedrolls within the hour.”
Danel stuck his face into Victoria’s face. “Wine!” His eyes were fierce.
Celesta poured wine into two horned mugs, filled them to the brim with water, and handed them to the men. “Wine!” she answered.
“Damn women.” Danel took his and drank it down.
Raul lifted his goblet toward Danel. “You can say that again. I wouldn’t be here if someone hadn’t decided to run away.”
“I didn’t run away; I went for a walk, and I wouldn’t have gone for a walk if you hadn’t— ” Victoria stopped.
Danel leaned forward. “Hadn’t what?” he asked avidly.
Now she thrust her face into his. “That is no one’s business but ours.”
“Humph.” Danel held out his goblet and said nothing as Celesta again mixed wine and water.
None of Raul’s wounds were severe, and they were clotting. The deepest cut over his heart would require stitches, but for now— she handed him the cloth. “Press that there.”
He did as he was told. “Danel, there is no debate about who sits on the throne. I’m the acknowledged heir.”
Victoria turned her attention to Danel, who said hotly,
“And I’m the one who stayed here, kept the fight going while you were safe in England at your daddy’s house.”
Like Raul, Danel didn’t seem badly hurt, only surface cuts in multiple places— until she saw his elbow.
There Raul had peeled the skin away, leaving the joint protruding.
To Celesta, she made a sewing motion.
Celesta nodded and ducked inside her tent, returning with needle and thread.
Danel paid the women no attention, shouting, “You can’t just gavotte in here, all pretty-boy and fancy-face, and take the kingship because your mother was older than mine.”
Victoria couldn’t help her grin.
“Yeah, see?” Danel pointed his fat, grimy finger in her face. “Even your sweetheart agrees with me.”
“I didn’t say I agreed with you. I simply approve of your turn of phrase.” She jabbed the needle through his skin.
He turned a ruddy color, and with his round face and full cheeks, he almost looked like a pomegranate.
But pomegranates didn’t swear.
She waited while he reeled off a whole list of Moricadian insults— she understood the gist if not the actual language— then stabbed him again. “I don’t know why you two are even having this discussion.”
“Because the stupid fool wants to push me aside!”
Danel snarled, then gasped as she took another stitch.
“You’re making yourself bleed more with all your shouting,” she said. “Stop it right now; I can’t see what I’m doing and I might sew your wrist to your knee.”
In an exaggerated whisper, he said, “Tell us how you would solve this problem, O Solomon.”
“You can’t be king,” she said.
“You’re his lover!” Danel spit on the ground to express his contempt for her opinion.
Victoria pointed at his spittle. “Right there; there’s the reason you can’t be king.” She could scarcely contain her disgust. “Look at you! You’re dirty. You stink.
You’re uneducated. You’ve got half your teeth and that half is rotten. You barely speak four languages, only one of them well.”
He scratched his head.
Her voice gained volume. “Your hair is crawling with lice, and there’s no way to exterminate them because it’s so matted and filthy, no one could get a comb through it.
You might as well shave it off!”
“You sound like my mother,” Danel said.
It wasn’t a compliment.
“You know nothing of finance,” she continued, “and your idea of diplomacy is to pull out a knife and have a fight. And if you’d kept fighting, you would have lost!”
“Would not.” He sounded like a sulky boy.
Victoria was not to be drawn into that fruitless argument. “At the same time, I’ve heard Mr. Lawrence admit that you’re among the best military strategists in the world.”
“You weren’t supposed to tell him that!” Raul snapped.
She smiled with satisfaction. “You could have said that my Moricadian is so bad I misunderstood you. But you didn’t, and now Danel knows it’s the truth.”
Raul glared.
Danel roared with laughter. “She’s too smart for you, cousin!”
“I’m too smart for both of you, which is not a large enough accomplishment of which to boast.” She turned back to Danel. “Without education in any of the ways of government, you would be a disaster as king. Yet if you and Mr. Lawrence banded together, you could unite your whole family and all the people of Moricadia under one banner rather than fail in this most important cause because of foolish pride. I would suggest to you both that only together can you win the upcoming revolution.” No one said anything for so long that she glanced up to see Danel’s reaction.
He sat frowning like a toad on a log.
She glanced at Raul.
He watched her, his eyes half-closed, as if trying to see the truth about her.
Danel snapped to attention. “Saber, your woman reminds me exactly of my mother. That’s why I never go and visit the old harridan.”
“Your mother is a frightening woman,” Raul admitted.
“She misses your mother.” Danel slammed his fist into Raul’s shoulder. “I never offered my condolences on your mother’s death. You were gone when she faded away, and when you came back, I forgot my manners.
She was a great woman, and we miss her.”
“I do, too.” Raul’s sorrow was palpable. “I would have done anything to be here for her.”
“You’d rather have been here than in England, living the soft life?” Danel laughed, but he seemed to be asking a real question.
Raul didn’t answer right away.
He didn’t answer for so long Victoria realized he didn’t intend to answer, that his pride wouldn’t allow him to plead his own case. But she knew the truth, so she said, “I was a friend of Mr. Lawrence’s half sister Belle, and she told me her father beat Mr. Lawrence so badly on the occasion of his grandfather’s death that they feared for his life.”
“Victoria,” Raul said warningly.
“He had a broken arm. Bruises so black they took months to heal. Broken ribs, and that was the thing that scared them, because he couldn’t breathe. They thought he was going to die. They believed he wanted to. But after a month in bed, he recovered, and Belle said he was never the same.”
Danel scratched the scraggly growth of beard on his cheek. “His father is a right old misery, then.”
“He favored his son over his other children.” She finished closing the wound on his elbow. “There you go. Be careful how you work the arm. If you rip the stitches, you’ll be no good as king or commander.”
Danel scratched his head, then hastily lowered his hand. “If I take the post as commander of the army, I get to ride at the front of the victory parade.”
“And I will bring up the end,” Raul said.
Victoria turned away to hide her smile.
Seven hours later, she wasn’t smiling. She was swaying with weariness.
Raul and Danel had been talking— negotiating— the terms under which they would work together. Once that was settled, they discussed how the revolution would progress.
Danel had fought in these mountains and in this terrain his whole life, and he held strong opinions on the best way to finish the de Guignards and take the capital.
Raul knew the classic battle tactics and how they could be adapted to aid in every possible instance during the fight.
Using sticks, the two men drew battlefields in the dirt, discussed Prince Sandre’
s likely strategies, agreed Jean-Pierre was an opponent to be respected, and decided how to move supplies, what to do if their army was divided, whether it would be wiser to divide their army.
They fought about the date for their initial attack.
Raul said at the next new moon.
Danel insisted they move within the week. “We’ve already pushed our luck as far as it can go. One of our people is going to be caught and tortured, and they’ll spill it all.”
“We have to teach your troops and mine to work together,” Raul said.
“I can do it in a week. You want me to do the job?
Trust me.”
They argued some more, then ate some more beans, fresh venison, bread, and cheese, and they drank two gallons of wine mixed with water.
Now they were still talking.
Victoria sat beside Raul, staring into the embers of the fire and trying to subdue her sense of accomplishment.
She had done it. She had taken enemies and made them allies. She had made Raul’s victory, if not assured, at least more likely.
“Victoria.” Raul’s warm voice caught her attention, brought her head around.“Victoria, you’re nodding off.”
“Didn’t get much sleep last night,” she murmured.
“Rest on me.” He caught the back of her neck in his palm, then with gentle pressure brought her head down onto his knee.
She reclined on her side, eyes wide, as he pulled a blanket over her. Only when he stroked her hair off her forehead did she relax.
Danel laughed. “She’s turned the wrong direction.”
Victoria didn’t understand what he meant, but Raul chuckled, too, murmured an answer, and continued that slow stroking that made her want to stretch and purr like a cat.
The sounds of their voices lulled her; her eyes closed, then opened, then closed, and finally she slept, aware somewhere in her mind that here she was warm and safe.
Chapter Thirty-seven
When Victoria woke, she lay on her side still facing the fire pit. The camp was quiet. The sun pushed through the trees, giving the grove a greenish tint. Her back was warm, pressed up against a man’s body—pressed up against Raul, who held her in his arms.
As she watched, the camp began to stir. First an elderly woman hobbled out of her tent and headed into the forest, coming back with kindling she set on the embers. The twigs readily caught fire, and she added more wood, larger branches, until the flames cracked merrily and wood smoke rose in a twisting white column into the pale blue sky.