Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

35. Challenge Issued

Another week passed and we got a welcome respite from blizzards. Sky opened up into the infinite Nirvana, as azure as back home. It even tinted the blinding white of the snow with a bit of blue. Frigid air froze mud into stone.

I faced Snehora's troops across the still lake. Mythra--

No other word of prayer came to me. So I released Their name in puffs of white breath. Mythra. Mythra. Mythra.

Those under my command looked to the Knowable World to relieve tension thickening around us. The Haida riders started a contest to see whose spit flew far enough to freeze before hitting the ground to the cheers of the Tverizh infantry.

I pulled the icepard's skin, borrowed from Ondrey's packed belongings, tighter around my shoulders. The bristles cleaned up nicely, yet the underside still hid a bloodstain. It was only fair. He wore my face--I wore his blood. May Mythra favor both of us today.

***

Shenora positioned her troops to flaunt her advantage in numbers, but I felt her reserves swarming the forest like killer-ants. May they enjoy what is coming for them! The wood darkened to my eyes despite the bright sunshine.

With giddiness both faked and inevitable, I galloped up and down our sparser lines. My right hand waved the saber bravely in the air, my left—undid the helmet straps. Hair swung and streamed in the wind. Brave, restless and stupid was the look I strove for. Just one more thing remained to do to lay the foundation for a thousand years of prejudices about the piss-filled Southerners.

I rode forward, staying just out of their mounted archers' arrow range, put my hands to my mouth and yelled, "Are any of you woman enough to beat Ismar in single combat?!"

An enchanted lute string, courtesy of Phedoxia, amplified my voice to three times the volume of a normal yell. It thundered over the ice, and must have reached into the forest. Breva reared up and a smile twisted my lips. What a pretty prize to take from a foolish Southern girl!

They hesitated.

Did Ondrey get caught? My imagination pictured a messenger rushing to me to thrust a stained bag into my hands. I'd open this bag to see his blond head with stiff features, staring eyes and a blackened slice at the neck--

Mythra's fangs, get a grip!

I pranced about. What did Parneres call me once? A princess in disguise? May Indara make me look that way to the six thousand women standing on the lake and hiding in the forest! For once, just for once, make me look like a witless noblewoman!

"Mythra favors the brave!"

One hundred. Ninety-nine.

Snehora rode out to the front, surrounded by her bodyguard. She was dressed in white wool. Her cloak was edged with white ermine. And her steed was--yes, it was white. She shone in the cold sunlight of her land. Beautiful.

Her banners flapped in a gust of wind. Their ends were cut to triangles, each edged in crimson. The device was a Sovereign mounted on a white--naturally!--horse on a green field. The Sovereign rode towards Tashaya's golden sun, overlaid by Yansara's silver crescent and a spray of stars. Good grief, Snehora didn't forget a single Divine! I guess, it made for brave banners. Phedoxia would be looking for Bhutas in vain.

I squinted and pressed my hand to my brow as if to protect my eyes. "Lo! Is there something crawling against the snow? A rabbit in her winter coat?!"

My taunt was just a fool's shot. It was too much to hope for Princess Granda to refuse my challenge and prove herself wise to the world, but a coward to the fighting women gathered on that day by the Lake of Bones.