“Ah, I fear my tale is not so compelling. I frequented festivals across Lukub for years and won all the sparring matches our towns hosted. Sultana Vaida’s army general invited me to the Ivory Palace to meet with the Sultana. She asked me to be her Champion, and I said no.”
I glanced at him askance, waiting for the guffaw and the knee-slapping. “Pardon?”
Timur drained the rest of his mint tea. “I said no the first time. My mother and two sisters are entirely dependent on my wages, and I did not have the luxury of working alongside the necessary training. The Sultana said she would pay them my wages herself. She offered more, but I did not want rumors to spread about the Lukub crown needing to buy its own Champion, not after Sultana Vaida’s kindness. Once I am Victor, my family will have much more than what I made as a stonemason.”
“Bit of an ego problem in Lukub, I see.”
Timur slapped the wall behind his head as he pushed off. He bounced on his heels. “Are you saying you worry about losing the Alcalah?”
I matched his smile. His death would be gentle. An apology as much as a mercy. “Of course not.”
The full weight of Mehti barreled into Timur, taking him to the ground. The Omal Champion straddled the Lukub Champion and lifted his arms to a swell of applause. “The key to a surprise attack—” Mehti began.
Timur planted a foot on Mehti’s chest and shot the other Champion halfway across the courtyard. Mehti rolled down the slope, coming to a stop at Diya’s feet. She stepped on his chest and kept walking.
“What is he like?” Timur asked, sitting cross-legged on the grass. I did not need to follow his gaze to know who he meant. There were not many men a Champion might revere.
“Efficient.” I glanced over to see Vaida shifting closer to Arin, sealing their bodies together from shoulder to hip. She spoke to Sorn as her hand drifted toward Arin’s knee. Arin reached for a chalice from a servant, subtly knocking her wandering hand aside.
Timur groaned. “You trained with Arin of Nizahl for months, and the best word you have is efficient?”
“What do you want to know, Timur?” I said, caught on Vaida’s second attempt to reach Arin’s knee. She was relishing his resistance. “He is brilliant. Cold, cunning. He eats too slowly, has an unnatural fixation with maps, and if you leave him near clutter long enough, he’ll either kill you and organize it or organize it and kill you.”
“Much better,” Timur said. “I cannot comprehend how you managed to train with the Nizahl Commander. I can’t hold a conversation with him without dissolving into a puddle of sweat.” A servant circled with cups of muhallabia, snagging Timur’s attention. The Lukub Champion rushed after him, sparing me a wave.
I didn’t notice how long I’d been watching Arin and Vaida until Jeru appeared.
“Don’t worry. She cannot play games with His Highness,” he reassured me. “Stronger wills than hers have tried.”
Arin posed an impossible challenge, and the Sultana savored nothing more than doomed effort. “Is it too early to go to my room, do you think?”
“I believe His Highness wanted you to—”
I swept past Jeru, lifting my skirts as I climbed the steps. “His Highness is preoccupied.” Jeru made to follow. I twisted around, thrusting my hand between us. “I can find my room myself. The moment I shed this gown, I’ll be asleep. We have a long journey ahead of us, and I am weary. Come guard my door only when the revelry has ended. Your disappearance would alert the others.”
Though clearly conflicted, Jeru stayed behind. I weaved past the servants clearing the banquet hall. My boots clicked loudly up the staircase, empty of the bustling crowds. Closing the door between myself and the rest of the palace allowed the tension to drain from my shoulders.
Why should it bother me if Arin and Vaida chatted the night away? If she decided to touch his knee and whisper in his ear, was it any business of mine? The audacity of her, to keep making overtures and delighting in his careful ways of rejecting them.
A knock at the door interrupted my internal war. “Who is it?” I called.
“Ava, milady. They said you might require some assistance removing your gown.” The young attendant’s voice trembled, likely nervous to be caring for a Champion alone.
I’d forgotten the sheer volume of ties on this gown. Hooks crisscrossed in the back, covered by a panel of delicate lace. Bless Jeru, he must have realized I wouldn’t be able to reach the hooks on my own. To be fair, I could just as easily cut myself out of the dress, since I never planned to wear it again.