Keeper of the Heart (22 page)

She began to think he’d changed his mind about asking her father for her. Perhaps he really had finally taken her rejection to heart. Of course, he could still be so angry at that last taunt she’d thrown at him that he felt it prudent
not
to approach her until he calmed down a little. But somehow she doubted that was the cause of what seemed to her more like indifference now.

And then his name was called to enter the arena, and she didn’t think about anything other than the match about to take place.

“You aren’t worried about him getting hurt, are you?” Tedra came by her side to ask.

“Certainly not.”

But blood had been spilled in these contests. The swords used were blunted, but they were still deadly weapons. And although the object was merely to disarm, not to cut and maim, accidents were inevitable—and Shanelle’s “Certainly not” was a big fat lie.

Tedra knew that, which was why she said, “I’m glad to hear it, because it would be a pure waste of time worrying about someone that good with a sword. He
knows
he’s going to win. That kind of confidence tends to make it happen. I could almost wish he’d lose. The man doesn’t deserve to get
everything
he goes after.”

Shanelle stiffened. “Has father—?”

“No, not yet. But I’m afraid the question is going to be asked before the day is over, and I’m also afraid your father has already made up his mind. I can’t imagine why, but he
likes
your young man.”

“Then I’ll have to leave,” Shanelle said in a small voice, her shoulders slumping.

“Don’t worry about it, Shani.”

Shanelle misunderstood, thinking her mother was merely going to try and talk Challen out of giving his approval. But she couldn’t afford to take that risk, couldn’t afford to be anywhere near Falon if Tedra failed and he got Challen’s blessing anyway.

“Mother, you know that with father’s approval, all Falon has to do is say the words within my hearing and we will be joined for life, whether I want it or not. And once he says the words, I’ll be his as far as he and anyone else are concerned. You
know
how damned easy it is. Father joined his life to yours and you didn’t even know it.”

“I know.” Tedra couldn’t help grinning as she remembered how ignorant she had been of Sha-Ka’ani customs at the time. “But I told you not to worry. I’ll be there to know if Falon gets the permission he needs to say those words. And Martha is already alerted, so don’t be surprised if you suddenly find yourself on the Rover.”

Shanelle’s throat constricted painfully. She had said she would do it. Hadn’t she just spent nearly a year learning how to pilot deep-space ships for just this possibility, even being prepared to steal one if necessary? She had had every intention of going off on her own if her father chose a man for her whom she couldn’t accept. But deep down, she had hoped she wouldn’t have to.

“Does father know I don’t want Falon?”

Tedra put an arm around her waist and asked gently, “Are you willing to tell him why you don’t?”

Shanelle paled, knowing her mother wasn’t speaking of all her reasons, just the particular one that her father wouldn’t want to hear about, since it couldn’t be explained without admitting she was no longer a virgin. She would rather Challen be angry with her for leaving than disappointed in her for giving up her innocence
before
she had a lifemate. And it was so ridiculous for her to feel that way, especially when she had given it up without a qualm. But again, deep down she had hoped her father would never have to know, that the man she gave her first time to would earn Challen’s approval and end up her lifemate. Well, it looked like he
was
going to gain Challen’s approval. But he’d lost hers.

Shanelle shook her head in answer, so Tedra said, “I’ll make sure he knows about the rest of your objections at least, though I honestly don’t think it will make much difference at this point—unless one of the other warriors has caught your interest. Perhaps one of these finalists?”

Shanelle’s expression turned sour. “If I wanted to end up with a warrior, it might as well be Falon. At least he still... makes me wish he weren’t a warrior.”

Just barely, Tedra managed to keep from grinning over that hesitation, and she had no business finding
any
humor in this situation. “That’s what I figured, so like I said, Shani, be prepared for a quick exit. You might want to say good-bye to your friends now.”

Shanelle’s eyes widened. “Stars, I forgot all about Caris and the others!”

“Martha didn’t. She’s already made arrangements with the Visitor’s Center to return them to Kystran on one of the ships that will be leaving in a few days. And I’ll make sure they’re on it.” If she wasn’t chained to a wall for her part in Shanelle’s departure.

But Tedra was trying not to think about the punishments her beloved barbarian was going to dump on her as soon as he realized his daughter was gone. That warrior took such things seriously, saw it as his
duty.
Farden hell. You’d think after twenty years she would have figured out a way to avoid that aspect of Sha-Ka’ani life—other than by being good all the time.

Shanelle’s gasp drew her back to what was happening in the arena, and Tedra winced as Falon hit the ground hard, having been knocked off his feet. His opponent’s sword followed in a full swing to knock Falon’s upraised sword out of his hand, but the Ba-Har-ani lowered his weapon, the other sword passed over him without striking metal, and Falon rolled until he had room to get back on his feet. The match continued normally then, with each man banging away at the other’s weapon. Falon hadn’t been in any danger, only of losing the match, but to see Shanelle’s pallor, you’d think he’d sustained a mortal wound.

“He’s tired,” Shanelle said so softly Tedra had to lean close to hear it. “He fought all morning long, all day yesterday.”

“His opponent is just as tired,” Tedra pointed out.

“But that other warrior is bigger. I don’t know how Falon has gotten this far. His sword arm has to be about ready to give out.”

Both warriors’ arms were taking a good deal of brutal punishment. But then most warriors had arms like tree trunks. These two were no different.

“You want him to win, don’t you?” Tedra stated the obvious.

“Well, he’s come this far.”

“You don’t have to sound defensive, baby. But haven’t you figured out yet why he’s fighting?”

With a slight blush, Shanelle said, “The other day it was to impress me.”

“I’m sure it was, but that’s not his reason now. Now he fights
for
you. It’s your father he’s trying to impress, because he knows how much importance is placed on a warrior’s ability to protect his lifemate. He’s using this competition to prove to Challen that he’s the best choice.”

Shanelle snorted. “I’m surprised father didn’t think of that.”

“What?”

“To use these competitions as a means of finding me a lifemate. It’s a good thing all these other warriors don’t know I’m available.”

Tedra nearly choked. Fortunately she didn’t have to reply. A sword went flying at that moment to skid across the grass. Falon was still holding his.

“Your restraint is commendable, Shani,” Tedra remarked dryly.

“No, you were right. Being champion of them all does just about guarantee him father’s blessing.”

“Well, he hasn’t quite reached that point yet. The champion of the visitors still has the option to fight him.”

Even as Tedra said it, the visitor who had excelled in marksmanship, speed, and dexterity was declining, with a good deal of humor, a chance to fight a warrior. He was five feet eight, and slim as a gaali-stone post. The mere thought of him wielding a sword against a Sha-Ka’ani was absurd. But another visitor didn’t think so.

Shanelle tensed as the High King of Century III arrogantly stepped forward with his retinue to demand an opportunity to best the champion. Challen didn’t seem pleased. Neither was the crowd that was close enough to hear. Shanelle moved closer herself to catch her father’s reply.

“The competitions are over.”

“My intention was declared in advance,” Jorran pointed out calmly.

“An intention disallowed by the rules,” Challen replied. “This you were told.”

“Rules do not apply to High Kings,
shodan,”
the rotund Alrid announced haughtily. “Nor can our king be expected to compete with commoners. Jorran is willing to fight your champion. That should be enough.”

Shanelle bit her lip to keep from grinning. The nobles from Century III had no way of knowing, for the signs weren’t visible to anyone who didn’t know him, but her father was no longer merely displeased, he was now offended as well, and that was grounds for issuing challenge that the average warrior wouldn’t hesitate to do. A
shodan,
however, being the leader as well as an example to so many, had to show more restraint. He could accept challenge no matter the reason, but the insult had to be personal and deadly before he would issue one himself. Shanelle wondered if a Ba-Har-ani
shodan
was shackled by the same principles. Likely not, since Falon had already offered to fight Corth for an
unacceptable
reason, and had promised to kill any visitor whom she set her sights on, though she wasn’t sure if he really meant that, or had said it only in anger.

Challen now ignored Alrid to tell the High King, “The warrior you wish to fight has stature here equal to yours on your planet.”

“Excellent,” Jorran replied. “Then I do not feel the effort is so far beneath—”

“Best
you say no more,” Challen cut him off. “Or you will have a number of true challenges to deal with before you depart our planet. As for your wish to enter the arena though the competitions are ended, such can be decided only by he who is the declared champion. And
Shodan
Van’yer is under no obligation to agree to another match, yet is the choice his to make.”

Falon laughed at that point. “And I thought the rules would disallow me the pleasure.”

Shanelle gritted her teeth. Why couldn’t he just refuse? As much as it would do wonders for his overwhelming arrogance to lose, she didn’t want to see him die doing it. He was tired; Jorran was fresh. No one would think less of him for ignoring a man who clearly thought to win what he had not rightfully earned—except everyone there who had heard the exchange would now like to see Jorran brought down a peg, and only Falon could do it. Even Shanelle’s father was obviously well pleased by Falon’s answer.

Jorran was also pleased, which didn’t make a good deal of sense. Falon might be tired, but he was still a good six inches taller than the High King, broader, and much heavier. And the sword Jorran now drew from his scabbard was incredibly thin. Shanelle frowned. There was no way a weapon like that could knock the larger, heavier sword out of Falon’s hand for the disarming.

“That farden bastard,” Tedra said at her side. “He’s using a razorsword.”

“So?”

“So it takes next to no strength at all to cut a man in half with a sword that sharp. The arrogant jerk can’t hope to disarm Falon, but he can ignore the rules and disable him with some serious wounds or worse—and we’ve already seen what he thinks of rules.”

Jorran’s first vicious swipe with the razors word gave credence to Tedra’s prediction. The High King was out for blood, and didn’t care if his opponent ended up dead as long as he saw victory.

Falon felt the blood trickling down his chest long before he felt the pain of his wounds. The pain was minimal, ignored. The blood was a nuisance, slowly depleting his strength. He did not think the wounds crisscrossing his upper torso were serious, despite the amount of blood he was losing, but he could not be sure, the wounds were so thin. And it had all happened in a matter of minutes.

Falon sucked in his middle even as he jumped back, but again he felt the tip of that sword, a weapon he had never seen the like of before, slice through his skin. It was too quick, never there to meet his own blade, flipping around him in a blur of movement that his heavier sword could not hope to match. It finally occurred to him that if he was going to defeat the High King by the rules, which meant disarming him rather than killing him, he would not be doing it with his own sword, not when Jorran kept his blade well away from it. The other man was not even
trying
to put up a pretense of this being a normal match, so why should he?

Reaching that decision, Falon threw down his sword and went after Jorran with his bare hands, using his steel armbands to deflect the razorsword, which was trying desperately now to keep him back. He sustained two more wounds before Jorran’s sword arm was knocked aside and Falon’s fist smashed into his face with a satisfying crunch.

The king went down and did not get up. His nose broken, one cheekbone smashed, he blacked out instantly. Falon did no more than kick the sword that had painted his torso crimson from the king’s now slack hand, then turned his back on him. Only then did he truly feel the weakness that was gaining on him rapidly. And only then did he look toward Shanelle, but she no longer stood near her mother. She was nowhere in sight, and his sight was starting to blur.

When the meditech opened, Falon was surprised to see Tedra Ly-San-Ter standing there waiting on him. Long black hair flowed about the white
chauri
she wore. A necklace of large crystals in the exact shade of her aquamarine eyes hung from her smooth neck. As the mother of two grown children, the woman really should look older than she did. That she did not, and was incredibly lovely besides, was just one more thing to annoy him about her. Of course, once she opened her mouth, her antagonism made him forget how beautiful she was.