A gasp went up from the stands.
Ransom couldn’t believe what had happened. He hadn’t intended to maim the man—he’d moved on instinct. Sometimes the rage of battle just made him lose all control.
Sir Terencourt fell forward, holding himself up with his remaining arm. “I yield!” he croaked in pain.
Ransom backed away from him, shock and horror making him dizzy as he watched men drag away the champion of Brythonica. Someone shouted for a barber. He shifted his gaze to the crowd, taking in the expressions on their faces. Fear. Horror. He’d not only bested their champion, he’d ruined the man. Dizziness washed through him, and he felt he would stumble. But he took a deep breath, sheathed his sword, and forced himself to return to Devon’s pavilion.
When he got there, he was alone for a moment, left to wrestle with self-recrimination and the fear of what he was capable of—of what he could become if he were not careful. Memories engulfed him. He recalled the time he’d stood alone against DeVaux’s men. The same thing had happened during the Brugian invasion. What was he becoming? A butcher of men? What would Lord Kinghorn say if he saw him now?
He heard voices outside, and Devon and Noemie entered the tent. The look she gave him wasn’t one of horror, it was a look of awe. She gazed at him with undisguised adoration.
Devon looked a little greensick. “By the Fountain, Ransom,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought he was going to strike while you were distracted, but you spun around and took off his arm. Remind me never to get on your bad side!”
Sirs Robert and Talbot came in next.
“How much did you win?” Talbot asked.
“I bet against Ransom,” Robert said, grimacing. He gave him a look of jealousy and disappointment. “You took off the man’s arm!”
“You’re only sore because you lost,” Devon said. “It was foolish of you to bet against Ransom. I knew he’d win. Just . . . not like that. Well, it’s the risk we all take when we become knights. Some poor fellow was so concussed today he says the same phrase over and over again, like a mule kicked him in the head.”
Sir Simon came in, juggling a coin bag with a bright smile. “That was unexpected, but we’re now the favorites for winning the tournament. The last event takes place in two days. Everyone needs to recover . . . everyone who can, I mean. I think we’ll win this one, my lord.”
“Oh, we will,” Devon said, clapping Ransom on the shoulder. “They’ll all be too afraid to charge against our mountain!” He turned to Sir Simon. “Have we spent all of the livres Father gave us yet?”
“No, there’s still quite a bit left,” Simon said.
“Then give each man their due, and we’ll spend the rest of it tonight! They may be angry that we bested their champion, but only a fool begrudges a man liberal with his coin.”
The knights of the mesnie crowded around Simon, hands open eagerly for coin, except for Ransom. He still felt sick inside. He had no desire to wander the town again, especially as word of his victory spread. The locals would hate him. Once the livres were handed out, the knights of the mesnie left the tent, leaving Ransom alone with Devon and Noemie. She stood by a little pedestal with a spherical bauble on it, picking it up and toying with it.
“Go enjoy yourself,” Devon said to him, looking confused by Ransom’s reticence.
“My lord, I’d like to beg your leave to go on a journey.”
Devon’s brow wrinkled. “What?”
“I would like to leave Ploemeur.”
“Impossible. I need you for the last event, Ransom. We’re going to win this one too and wipe that smug grin off my brother’s face.”
“I’ll be back in time for that,” Ransom said. “I’d like to go to St. Penryn.”
His request seemed to baffle Devon even more. “St. Penryn?”
“I’ll need use of a boat, but I could probably be back at the palace by midnight if I leave soon.”
When he said the word midnight, Noemie flashed him a pained look.
“First you wanted to see Our Lady of Toussan, and now St. Penryn. Whatever for?”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Noemie stood within hearing, so he could not possibly share his fears about the Occitanian spy, not given the way Devon had reacted in the past. He also did not wish to announce for everyone’s ears that Queen Emiloh had given him the charge, and while Devon knew Ransom could do things most men could not, he had never expressed a true belief in the Fountain. It was unclear how he would react.