The knight aims for Sebastian’s heart and drives his sword downward. But before it meets its mark, Sebastian sweeps his sword above the ground, taking out the knight’s feet. Sebastian bounds up—too quickly for having been injured—and slices his blade across the knight’s neck.
The crowd jumps to its feet, and applause and cheers rock the stadium. I stand and clap, pulling my eyebrows together, then lean close to Xander. “Is it common practice in battle to fake an injury?”
Xander shakes his head slightly. “No. It’s considered a dirty move.” He claps, and adds, “But for the sport, it’s even lower. At least among those who know battle courtesy.” He glances around at the cheering crowd.
I nod my understanding. As I stare at Sebastian—his arms raised high above his head, taking bows for his adoring fans—I wonder if that’s the only dirty move he’s ever pulled.
* * *
Where the knights’ armory used to be, a giant party tent now stands, glimmering against the dark backdrop of the castle. Tiny white lights dot the trees and the tent’s roof. They drape the sides of the tent, and ground torches are scattered around the perimeter, making the scene glow with warmth. Roasting lamb and venison scent the air, and flames roar in stone pits as the meat rotates above.
The celebration for the first day of the tournament is well underway. I press through the thick crowd of bodies, nodding and greeting courtiers as they congratulate me on Sebastian’s win. When I finally find Sebastian, he’s draped with ladies all pining for his attention.
I squeeze through and say, “There you are, my lord. I’ve been searching for you everywhere.” I smile to the maidens and they slant their eyes at me, pulling away from the prince.
Sebastian’s eyes brighten.
“Ladies, I hope you enjoy the rest of the tournament,” he says to them as he wraps an arm around me. “Excuse me.”
I see many pouts and scowls shot in my direction, but I ignore them. Soon, they’ll have Sebastian as a bachelor to game after once again.
He releases me from his hold and extends his arm. I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow. He turns toward Xander. “You’re relieved of your duties for the night.”
Xander glances at me, his brown eyes searching, and I nod. It will be better if we don’t have an audience. “Please enjoy the party, Sir Xander,” I tell him.
He bows low. “Your Highnesses.”
Sebastian leads us to the garden, and we walk in companionable silence toward its center as I plan a way to broach his cheapened victory. What Xander told me about his actions during the melee conflicts with the Sebastian I’ve come to know, and I’m curious as to why he—a prince—would stoop so low to win a simple contest.
The scent of jasmine hits my nose as we pass through the latticed opening. The fountain gleams in the moonlight as if tiny diamonds flow over its stone instead of water. I take a seat on one of the stone benches and look up at him.
“Congratulations on your victory,” I say. “I had no idea you had entered the melee.” I tilt my head, a practiced pout stamped on my face. “Were you intent on surprising me, or was this a last-minute decision?”
A smile crooks his lips. “Honestly, it was decided last minute. After putting the tournament together, I wondered why I shouldn’t enjoy it as a participant, too.” He settles down beside me and takes my hand.
“So are you entered into all the contests?” I ask. If he is, I could definitely find time to sneak away and train. He can’t watch the stands all the time.
He looks to our joined hands and laces his fingers through mine. “Nay. Just the melee and the joust.” His eyes find mine again, and I force a small smile. I’ll have to continue to find ways to escape his notice.
I nudge his shoulder. “I have a confession.” I try to sound as innocent as possible. “I have no idea what happened out there today.” I laugh. “All the rules make no sense to me. What was that move—the one you used to win at the end? Is there a name for it?”
His form stiffens. His grip tightens on my hand. Maybe I’ve just overstepped, but he relaxes a bit. “I’ve never seen you interested in anything concerning the knights before.” He releases my hand and wraps his arm around my waist. “Or are you simply searching for words to fill the air between us?” He pulls me closer to him.
Smiling, I lightly push against his chest, backing away. “Sebastian, I was only curious.” He has successfully evaded my question and made me uncomfortable. I’m not going to get the answer I want, so I need to end this before I give him the wrong impression. “Well, it is late. I’ve had an exhausting day just watching the tourneys, so I know you must be tired.”
I stand, but he immediately pulls me back down onto his lap. “Zara.” He breathes my name, nuzzling his face next to my ear. “What tires me are your games.” My chest tightens; my scalp prickles. His hand brushes my hair aside, and he kisses my neck.
I pull back. “Sebastian, we’re not wed.” I try to stand again, but he grips my arms tightly, holding me there.
“That’s what this is about?” He scoffs. “You won’t kiss me because we’re not married?” His hand grasps my jaw, turning my face toward his. “Look me in the eye and say this is the reason.”
I yank back. “Stop it, Sebastian.”
He cups the back of my neck with one hand and holds my jaw firmly with the other, forcing me to look into his eyes. “Say it, Zara. Say the real reason you will not kiss me, or even touch me.”
I grit my teeth, ball my hands into fists—restrain myself from breaking his jaw. I look into his eyes. “Release me, Sebastian.” I twist my arms and push my forearms against his, giving one final yank backward, and free myself. I run.
Not because I’m scared of what he’ll do to me, but rather of what I might do to him if he persists.