The Burden of Freedom

Chapter 6

"How dare you make a fool out of me, girl," my father snarls, his voice low like the warning growl of a wolf. "We will be having a discussion about this later."

Those are the only words he speaks to me before returning to his seat. The crowd is still there, watching, waiting for something to happen. I simply nod and sit down in my own chair, a shiver running down my spine despite the heat.

"My lady, can I get you anything?" Rose asks from behind me and I smile at her, glad that she's there. She holds a pitcher of water in her left hand, the liquid sloshing all over her arms and dripping onto the pink fabric of her cotton dress. She wipes it away, taking a step forwards and filing my father's empty cup.

"No, thank you," I say. She gives a little bow, her red hair falling over her eyes.

The competition starts up again, and I am surprised to see that a few more names are crossed off of the list. They must have proceeded along with the competition without me so as not to lose too much time. 

I don't mind in the slightest. 

There are still three matches left, but Silas has already passed this round, having defeated his opponent. I frown, surprised that I had been looking forwards to watching him.

I wonder if he had killed the opponent he was up against, and I turn to Rose, the question on my lips.

Rose just shrugs in answer. "I didn't watch the match. I was looking for you."

I resolve to find out later, turning back to the face the center of the arena.

I don't watch as the men begin fighting, turn away when the cold screams cut off into nothing.

The first two matches end the same way, with too much blood spilt. I don't stop it, sitting back in my chair with my eyes shut. 

I'm no better than him, sitting here and allowing this to happen. 

My hands are tied, but does that really matter? Shouldn't I at least try? 

The last up is Leopold, who stands at one side of the arena. His copper hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and his face is pale. To my surprise, he is no longer wearing armor, choosing instead to don a light, chainmail, the metal dull in the red light of the setting sun.

Leopold's opponent is Lord Baldric, who is swinging his own weapon experimentally, his movements precise and practiced.

I sit up a little straighter, leaning forwards. This match is one that interests me despite my efforts not to care about any of the suitors.

I don't want to see Leo get hurt, and, from the looks of things, Baldric is a person who has been working with a sword since birth.

The match begins without me realizing it, Baldric spinning into motion with a snap of his weapon. My heart jumps in my chest.

Leopold had been ready for Lord Baldric's movement, throwing his body to the left and allowing the sword to whoosh by his ear. Baldric lunges again, but Leopold deflects his blade with a flick of his own, tumbling out of the way. 

Leopold has trained with a sword before, made clear by his quick movements and instant reactions. It's as if he has already anticipated Baldric's next move, thought about the best counter attack and executed it before Baldric can actually take a step forwards.

I can see now why he chose to wear what he did. His movements aren't slowed by the bulky metal armor, allowing him to dance around his opponent as nimble as a cat.