Page 21 of Court of Talons
“But Nazar?—”
“Half.” Older soldiers can become set in their ways, and I can’t risk Father rejecting these soldiers, no matter what happens to me—or to Gent, when the Divh is no longer banded to me. My father is proud and will want to feel like his power is absolute…especially once he learns of Merritt’s death. I owe him that much.
Together, Caleb and I step forward, and the boy almost immediately starts talking. When it’s over, ten fighting men arededicated to ensuring the safety of my house. Half of them still green, the other half hard-bitten and sturdy. It’s a good mix.
As the last of the earnest money is traded, the men set off with orders to prepare themselves for travel. I watch the last of them disappear as an earsplitting wail of trumpets sounds. I jerk back, startled, and Caleb laughs.
“It’s beginning,” he shouts, tugging me forward. “The exhibition. Come on—we’ll go see!”
And without another backward glance, we join the crowd thronging toward the first celebrated event of the Tournament of Gold.
Chapter 8
Nazar waits just outside the gates of the coliseum. He meets my shocked gaze with a raised brow, as if of course he knew we’d find our way here. He carries a heavy satchel over his arm but otherwise looks like any of the other commoners on their way to be awed and amazed by the exhibition.
Though Caleb’s fairly bursting with the news of our negotiation, he turns to me and bows. I look directly at Nazar, aware that anyone might be watching.
“It’s done,” I say, surprised at the real relief I feel, that our house is protected once more. “Ten men to the Tenth House, and enough extra horses to carry them. They’ll be ready by tomorrow, and they’re more than we’ll need, judging by their looks.”
Even as I speak, the horns sound again, marking the beginning of…something.
“Sorry, I must be going,” Caleb says, pulling off his green tunic and handing it to Nazar. “I’ll—I’ll—” He stumbles, but Nazar merely nods to him.
“Go,” the priest says, taking his tunic, as if he knows where Caleb is off to.
I don’t, of course, but Nazar says nothing more after the squire dashes off with his usual frantic energy. Instead, the priest gestures me to follow him toward a rear entrance to the coliseum. Once we climb the dozen or so stone steps to slip inside, I stare up at the huge, groaning wooden infrastructure drilled into the bedrock, shaking beneath the pounding of many feet. It’s dark back here and hung with shadows.
“What…?” I manage, but Nazar silences me with a look until he’s convinced that we’re well and truly alone.
“You can study your opponents like Merritt of the Tenth, but you can only gawk as Talia,” he says quietly, shifting his satchel closer to me and opening it. Inside, despite the gloom, I see the coils of my old hair. “This way, you can do both.”
I jerk my gaze up to him. “You want me to dress asTalia?” I squeak, barely able to believe it. “Why?”
He surveys me with steady eyes. “Because warrior knights don’t sit in the stands. They stand on the battleground, ready to fight.”
“But I’m from the mountains,” I protest. “And the Tenth House isn’t competing this year. No one would be surprised that I’m interested in how Lord Rihad runs his tournaments.”
“It shows weakness.”
“Well, weareweak right now.” I shove the satchel away, but even through my irritation, I see his point. Merritt of the Tenth House has his own Divh, his own house to defend. He doesn’t need to be entertained with the masses like some child. But Talia…
I ball my hands into fists. “There’s no respect for women here. I expect that at home, but I thought…” I blow out a breath. “I thought it would be different in the city.”
“And now you know better. Accept what is until you change it,” Nazar says without inflection, pushing the satchel back toward me.
With a muttered curse, I give in. The gown is easy enough to swap into—a cut-down version of my travel clothes, thank the Light. But my hair…
I frown at the glistening wig, trying not to be unnerved by it. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“You’re not on your way to get married. I kept the bulk of it for later use.”
“Mmm.” Pushing away the thought of random coils of my hair sitting around our tent like serpents ready to strike, I lift the wig to my head. I pull it on tentatively, surprised at its snug fit. Then I squeak as Nazar steps up to me and yanks it roughly into place. He drags me out from beneath the stands into a sliver of sunlight, turning me this way and that. Then he nods.
“You’ll pass, and your face has healed well enough that no one will look twice. If anyone asks after you later, we can say that your experience of the great exhibition has quite overwhelmed you, and that we have decided to send you back to the Tenth House ahead of our eventual return.”
“Ohhhh…” I round my eyes and grin at him. “That’s good. Do I need paint, do you think?” I wave vaguely at my face.
“Only enough to satisfy the briefest of glances.” After rooting around in the satchel, he produces a pot and brush and hands them to me, and I do what I can in the shadows while he bundles Merritt’s clothes away. Eventually, I present myself to him, and he nods again.