Still, she was grateful when the drummers stopped to sate their hunger and slake their thirst. Her hip caught with the tightening of muscle. Touraine led her back to their fire, where Gil and Djasha sat with Elder Ebrahm. They had been deep in conversation but stopped as she approached. The elder smiled in her direction, his eyes unfocused. He was almost blind.
She let Touraine guide her back onto a stool, and she slumped there, grinning like a fool.
Is it the drink?
Perhaps, but not only. She felt safe. Even though by anyone else’s reckoning, she was in an enemy camp.
No sooner did she think that did she feel the slight dimming in her head. A sharp crack and someone’s stifled cry. She jumped, and Touraine was in front of her, hand on her knife.
It was only some sparring dancers. One of them had landed a hit. Jaghotai, standing nearby, noticed their defensive reactions and laughed. It was an ugly, barking sound.
“So scared to be among your conquered? Your Highness.” Jaghotai tilted her head and approached.
Touraine kept herself between them, and the other guards flanked her. Gil edged closer to Luca, the better to whisk her away.
“And you defend her.” Jaghotai sneered as she addressed her daughter for the first time all night. “You really are a faithful hound, all dressed up in her collar. Where is your spine?”
Touraine’s palm cracked against her cheek.
The sound rang across the fires, and people hushed to watch. They smelled blood on the air, sizzling in the flames. The peace Luca had thought was so certain developed a brittle texture.
Aranen stepped forward. “Touraine. Jaghotai. This is unnecessary.”
“Come out.” Jaghotai ignored Aranen and jabbed her thumb to the empty space behind her. “Just a friendly go.”
“Be careful,” Luca murmured. “I’d hate to have to find a new assistant.”
Touraine rolled her neck and shoulders. “No one else would do it.”
Luca couldn’t tell if that was a joke or not.
The two squared off in the center of the fires.
“No fancy knife?” Jaghotai circled Touraine, barehanded.
Touraine gave a faint, barely perceptible smile. Gone was the exuberant woman who had cajoled Luca into a drink.
Djasha took the role of judge without prompting, as if this were a common occurrence. Space in front of Elder Ebrahm remained clear. Luca wasn’t sure how well his eyesight would let him see, but the intended courtesy was obvious.
Djasha clapped once and the fight began.
It was like watching the dancing, only deadlier.
They were both quick, and Luca thought for certain that Touraine would have a clear advantage because of her age, but that wasn’t the case. Jaghotai was bulkier, but she was as light on her feet as Touraine. One hit from that powerful arm—a thrill of fear for Touraine jolted up Luca’s back.
Such close fighting, so intimate with the body… Luca had never learned that. Her rapier kept enemies at a distance. Touraine and Jaghotai clenched each other in locks before someone got the upper hand and shoved the other away. It stirred Luca’s blood even though she hadn’t moved a muscle. She barely blinked. Her heart thumped with Touraine’s bravado. And what was Touraine to her, again? The governor’s assistant? Her companion? Her champion?
Jaghotai got close, pretended to leave Touraine’s reach, and then came close again and slammed her elbow into Touraine’s gut before twirling away. Luca gasped, held the breath. Touraine doubled over and staggered once before regaining herself. First real contact. It ended the pretense that neither fighter was out for blood.
Touraine struck next, like lightning. When Jaghotai chopped at her, Touraine blocked the attack to the outside with a forearm, bent her knees, and rammed the heel of her fist in the space between Jaghotai’s stomach and ribs. That was the end. When Jaghotai bent, Touraine kicked her sharply in the thigh. The other woman crumpled to one knee, clutching her stomach.
Djasha clapped twice and then pointed to Touraine. One person applauded, then maybe three joined.
Touraine strutted toward Luca with her chin high, a smug smile on her lips. Djasha, however, caught Touraine’s arm.
“There are three rounds, girl. The victor takes two.”
As the edges of Luca’s mind still blurred with drink, Touraine walked back into the circle. Gil squeezed Luca’s shoulder.
CHAPTER 23
A HOPE IN THE DARK
Touraine squared off in front of Jaghotai again. Sharp inhale through the nose, slow exhale through the mouth. Breathe like the wolf, not the deer. Which instructor had told them this, in Balladaire? Her entire core ached, but she pushed the pain away.