Kaelyn shifted on the stage at the end of a row of seven men and one boy. She kept her gaze focused on the clansman elder before her–anything to avoid looking at the crowd. It had been a bad idea to let Mac talk her into signing up for the tournament. And his excuse that they needed the money was probably just that, an excuse.
Of course, she hadn’t realized her mistake until too late. They’d dressed her as a boy and enrolled her in the youth category. She should have thrown the fight as soon as she’d seen people paying attention. But that had been almost at the end of the tournament and her damned instincts had kicked in. With a flick of her wrist–just like every other fight that day–she’d scored her point in record time and moved onto the final round.
As it was, she was sure everyone knew she’d thrown that match to take second place. Her opponent hadn’t been any challenge for her. None of them had. If she’d wanted a fairer fight, she really should have been signed up with the men. But only Bledig, the handful of clansmen from the fight at May-Garth’s, and those at Angwyn would have believed her capable.
Now all of that was ruined. Everyone here, at the largest clansman gathering, knew her skill. She could see it in their eyes.
She shifted again. Please, just bestow the purses and let her off that stage. But they were waiting for the Goddess-Made-Flesh–whatever that meant.
The crowd’s roar of babble and laughter dropped to murmurs, drawing Kaelyn’s attention. In the front, a little off to the side, stood Mac with a pensive expression. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking and wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. Gerid, Bledig, and Wyndham stood beside him, beaming like proud parents, while Talar’s emotions were veiled. He rubbed his wrists, caught her gaze, and crossed his arms.
Then the crowd parted and a breathtakingly beautiful woman, flanked by two enormous clansmen, stepped before the stage.
The elder said something in northern about the Goddess arriving to bless the victors of the battle, and the men on either side of Kaelyn straightened their backs and puffed out their chests. If the occasion hadn’t seemed so solemn, she would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
The woman glided up the two steps and paused at Kaelyn. This close, she was even more beautiful. Every glossy black hair was in place, framing ever-so-slightly sun-kissed skin and depthless brown eyes. Whoever had picked her to embody the clansmen’s Goddess had picked well. She was the northern version of the Lady of Newalden, and everything Kaelyn wasn’t.
She took Kaelyn’s hand and met her gaze. Her eyes narrowed and Kaelyn could only imagine what she was thinking as she blessed a woman who’d captured second place in the boy’s fighting category.
She said something about blessings and grace, smiled, handed Kaelyn a purse of coins, and moved to the boy beside her. She repeated the blessing down the row, each man she passed looked despondent and the man ready to receive her more eager. But nothing else happened. She finished and turned to the crowd.
The elder said something, but Kaelyn didn’t understand his words. A murmur rippled through the crowd. Men stood taller, looked prouder, like those on the platform before their personal blessing.
The woman stepped from the stage and went straight to Talar. “I chose you.”
Talar glanced up at Kaelyn, but she couldn’t read his expression. The crowd erupted into movement and noise. The woman’s escort surrounded Talar and whisked him away without another word. Whatever had happened, it was done in a matter of moments.
Kaelyn hopped off the stage, she and the other tournament winners forgotten in the excitement.
“Lucky bastard,” said Gerid. “Did you see her?”
“It was hard not to with her standing in front of me and holding my hand,” said Kaelyn.
“Well, come on.” Mac sighed. “We won’t see him until tomorrow morning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kaelyn didn’t know why, but she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like the answer.
“He’s been chosen as the Divine Seed,” said Wyndham. At least he didn’t appear as enamored as the rest of the men.
“It’s a great honor to lie with the Goddess-Made-Flesh.” Mac wrapped an arm across her shoulders. “We should celebrate his good fortune and your . . . almost win.”
Something fluttered in her gut, but she wasn’t sure what. She forced a smile and held up her winnings. “Dinner’s on me.”
#
Talar downed another glass of heady mead. He felt like a lamb about to go to the slaughter–new clothes, as much food and drink as he desired, he even had to convince the maids that he didn’t need help with his bath. Funny how every young clansman yearned to be chosen as Divine Seed for the Winter Solstice and here he was wishing he was anywhere but.
The woman selected as the Goddess-Made-Flesh looked too much like Delwyn. That was it. Really. Same black hair, same grace, same eyes. And yet it wasn’t Delwyn who his thoughts kept turning to. It was Kaelyn.
And Goddess, his wrists burned. He reached for the pitcher of mead but stopped himself. He’d had enough already. It wouldn’t do for him to not be able to fulfill his duty by being too drunk. That wasn’t fair to the girl forced to lie with him for the sake of tradition. Not that he doubted she’d be overly resistant. She was a virgin–all those selected to be the Goddess at Winter Solstice were–but like every other clanswoman, she probably dreamed of the honor and of the magic involved in the night.
That was what he should focus on. The divine presence.
That thought made him snort. Divine presence indeed. How could he forget about Her? He’d been in Her presence and She’d taunted him, teased him, ran a blade through his heart, and all for what? That Kaelyn could put her life in danger and awe an entire clan?
And now Kaelyn had done it again at May-Garths and now in the tournament ring.
Mac hadn’t believed him, or Gerid, or even Bledig with his raw tattoo, when they’d told him of Kaelyn’s skill. Talar didn’t know what Mac had thought. He’d listened to their tale–some of them more adamant than others–with pursed lips and one raised eyebrow.
Of course, now that Talar thought about it, he’d sung more than enough Mac Theselon ballads to realize that tales get blown out of proportion. It was a shame, though, that he’d had to pick such a public way to test her. If a Goddess-Made-Flesh hadn’t already been selected for the solstice, she might have been picked for the role.
And then he’d be making love to Kaelyn.
Desire flicked deep within him. Goddess, what was he thinking? Or rather, it was probably his Goddess making him think it. She’d thrown Kaelyn at him from before they’d even met. Surely his desire was of Her creation, not genuine emotion. Besides, he saw the way Kaelyn looked at Prince Wyndham. She couldn’t even remember the man and her affection was obvious. If there was ever a true match, it was them. It was a shame, given Wyndham’s betrothal, but life wasn’t fair. Talar knew that all too well.
Which left him with his own unfair life. A Goddess-driven urge to protect her and a single night with a stranger who looked too much like his dead wife.
A rustling at the tent flap drew his attention. Guess it was time.
But instead of a maid to lead him to the Goddess’s tent, Kaelyn slunk in.
“What are you doing here?” He bit the inside of his cheek. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. He didn’t know what he’d wanted to say, but making demands wasn’t on the list.
“I, ah. . . .” Her gaze darted about the tent, then settled on his feet.
His heart skipped a beat and he took an involuntary step forward, but her gaze lifted, freezing him in place.
“They ah. . . . They told me about what was going to happen . . . tonight.”
“And?” He couldn’t stop what had been set in motion. Not for her. Not even if he wanted to. But he still yearned to hear her say it.
“Do you think you should?”
His pulse pounded, rushing in his ears.
“I mean . . . being married and everything.”
His stomach roiled. “Is that what this is about? Looking after my wife’s interests?” His voice came out harsher than he intended.
Kaelyn shifted back, crimson creeping up her neck and coloring her cheeks. “I just– I mean–”
Her foot hit the edge of a chest and she straightened her back. The Goddess as Warrior returned. “I’m unfamiliar with northern customs. It was foolish of me to think your wife would care.”
“Kaelyn–”
“Have an enjoyable”–more color flooded her face–“evening.” She spun on her heel and left.
Talar rushed to the opening, but she was gone into the maze of tents and flickering shadows. Goddess be damned. He should have just told her Delwyn was dead then–
Then they would have been fighting over him sleeping with a stranger for other reasons.
Damn it. Kaelyn was not his to have. She belonged to the Goddess, whether she knew it or not. And for tonight, so did he. Just not the one he wanted.
