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Authors: Selina Rosen
Tags: Fantasy
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Well, Tarius would probably kill him first. If someone else caught her, let them expose her. It wasn't going to be him. How did it serve him? It didn't, and he wasn't in the habit of doing things that might get him killed if there was nothing in it for him.
Chapter 4
Darian watched them playing in the courtyard with no sense of joy. Tarius and his class were well into their second term. The country was deep at war with the Amalites, and keeping the second year students quiet was a daily chore. They all wanted to go fight on the front. Tarius was worse than the others.
It was their spring break, and while most of the students had gone home to help their families with much needed crops at this time of war, a few had stayed. Among them were Tarius who had no home to go to, and Tragon who seemed to be afraid to get too far away from Jena. It was obvious that Jena's heart lay with Tarius, but Tarius was impossible to read. On the other hand, Tragon was obviously in love with Jena, and she didn't even know he was alive.
It seemed to Darian that Tarius tried to push Jena towards Tragon on a regular basis, and the more he did it, the more deeply Jena yearned for Tarius. It hurt Darian to see her this way, and he didn't understand Tarius at all. It was like he purposely fought his feelings for her.
It was a big awful mess.
For now Harris, Jena, Tragon and Tarius played ball in the courtyard like four kids with not a care in the world. The game kept their minds off the very real problems here and at the front.
Tarius grabbed the ball in midair, and as he came down Jena tackled him to the ground. She used any excuse to touch him, and at least for the moment he seemed only too willing to oblige. They laughed as they rolled on the ground, and Darian could see the hurt in Tragon's eyes. Jena never encouraged Tragon's advances. He knew where he stood, but that couldn't have made him feel any better. It must seem to him that his friend was always to best him at everything.
* * *
The king looked at the motley entourage and grimaced. Persius tried to be diplomatic because Jero was the most powerful of the six barbarian kings, and he didn't want to provoke him when he might very shortly need him as an ally. Jero thought he brought Persius great honor, but unfortunately Persius was neither in the mood nor prepared for Jero to honor him in the barbarian's own special way. Persius had a war to attend to, and a country to try and feed when the enemy was setting whole fields on fire.
More to the point, considering the problem Jero's presence brought, most of his good fighting men were in the field.
"Good king Jero! There is no swordsman currently in my palace who can best your champion, so there would be no contest," Persius said from his perch on the throne.
"If you forfeit, we win, and your kingdom is mine . . ."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait just a minute! That is your law, not ours," Persius said quickly.
"I bring you great honor, and you throw my deed into my face. You have no honor. Your kingdom is weak, and we shall overtake you," Jero said.
Damn touchy, these barbarians. Persius drew in a deep breath. What an unbridled mess! On most days the barbarian's threat would have meant nothing. However at this particular moment, he was down to a fistful of personal guards. Everyone of any prowess in battle had been sent to the front, leaving the capital city basically unguarded. In retrospect, not a very bright thing to have done.
Jero chose this moment to show up with fifty armed soldiers. They could rip the city to shreds before they could be contained, if they could be.
"Not understanding your laws, I spoke too quickly. Let me talk to the captain of my guard. I will have an opponent for your champion to fight at sunset and a great feast in your honor as well."
Jero and his entourage bowed, pounding their fist against their chests, grunted and left the throne room.
"Rutson! Send for Darian! I think he has a man who can champion
Chapter 4
Darian watched them playing in the courtyard with no sense of joy. Tarius and his class were well into their second term. The country was deep at war with the Amalites, and keeping the second year students quiet was a daily chore. They all wanted to go fight on the front. Tarius was worse than the others.
It was their spring break, and while most of the students had gone home to help their families with much needed crops at this time of war, a few had stayed. Among them were Tarius who had no home to go to, and Tragon who seemed to be afraid to get too far away from Jena. It was obvious that Jena's heart lay with Tarius, but Tarius was impossible to read. On the other hand, Tragon was obviously in love with Jena, and she didn't even know he was alive.
It seemed to Darian that Tarius tried to push Jena towards Tragon on a regular basis, and the more he did it, the more deeply Jena yearned for Tarius. It hurt Darian to see her this way, and he didn't understand Tarius at all. It was like he purposely fought his feelings for her.
It was a big awful mess.
For now Harris, Jena, Tragon and Tarius played ball in the courtyard like four kids with not a care in the world. The game kept their minds off the very real problems here and at the front.
Tarius grabbed the ball in midair, and as he came down Jena tackled him to the ground. She used any excuse to touch him, and at least for the moment he seemed only too willing to oblige. They laughed as they rolled on the ground, and Darian could see the hurt in Tragon's eyes. Jena never encouraged Tragon's advances. He knew where he stood, but that couldn't have made him feel any better. It must seem to him that his friend was always to best him at everything.
* * *
The king looked at the motley entourage and grimaced. Persius tried to be diplomatic because Jero was the most powerful of the six barbarian kings, and he didn't want to provoke him when he might very shortly need him as an ally. Jero thought he brought Persius great honor, but unfortunately Persius was neither in the mood nor prepared for Jero to honor him in the barbarian's own special way. Persius had a war to attend to, and a country to try and feed when the enemy was setting whole fields on fire.
More to the point, considering the problem Jero's presence brought, most of his good fighting men were in the field.
"Good king Jero! There is no swordsman currently in my palace who can best your champion, so there would be no contest," Persius said from his perch on the throne.
"If you forfeit, we win, and your kingdom is mine . . ."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait just a minute! That is your law, not ours," Persius said quickly.
"I bring you great honor, and you throw my deed into my face. You have no honor. Your kingdom is weak, and we shall overtake you," Jero said.
Damn touchy, these barbarians. Persius drew in a deep breath. What an unbridled mess! On most days the barbarian's threat would have meant nothing. However at this particular moment, he was down to a fistful of personal guards. Everyone of any prowess in battle had been sent to the front, leaving the capital city basically unguarded. In retrospect, not a very bright thing to have done.
Jero chose this moment to show up with fifty armed soldiers. They could rip the city to shreds before they could be contained, if they could be.
"Not understanding your laws, I spoke too quickly. Let me talk to the captain of my guard. I will have an opponent for your champion to fight at sunset and a great feast in your honor as well."
Jero and his entourage bowed, pounding their fist against their chests, grunted and left the throne room.
"Rutson! Send for Darian! I think he has a man who can champion
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