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The challenge had been Roden’s idea and I had accepted it. Which was my first mistake. My second was believing it would end normally.
It had taken several days for Roden’s challenge to find its way back to me, which was impressive, considering he had delivered it directly to my face. I had delayed it for several days, claiming to be occupied with duties that could be urgent but were, in truth, excuses. Eventually, Roden cornered me in the hallway with the look he wore when he had already decided I would not escape his challenge.
He leaned against the wall as if he had been waiting for me. “Took you long enough.”
I tried to push past him but he raised his sword, blocking the doorway long enough to glance at me. “You accepted my challenge Jaron. So you don’t get to keep postponing it. You’re avoiding me.”
Calmly, I replied. “I’m busy.” Which was not entirely a lie. “I have not avoided anyone Roden. I have merely been occupied with ruling a kingdom.”
“You’re always busy. Fight me Jaron.”
I raised a brow. “You have an odd way of asking for companionship.” A beat passed, then I sighed. “You really wish to fight me?”
He grinned, “Afraid to lose?”
I glared at him. “I never lose, Roden.” Then, I considered him for a moment. After another beat, I added. “Very well. Just let me get my sword. But if I win, you will stop challenging me for at least a week.”
Some time later, we met in the training area of the courtyard at a quiet hour in the noon. All soldiers had already cleared out by now. Roden tested his grip on his sword, and smiled at me with far too much confidence. He grinned in that particular way of his, the one that suggested he had already planned my defeat and was kind enough to let me participate. But I had plans of my own to prove him wrong again, as always.
We argued for a few minutes before the fight, as had probably become our tradition. Roden claimed I relied too much on instinct. I claimed he relied too much on discipline which made him predictable. Eventually, we decided we might as well begin the fight.
We circled each other in the familiar rhythm of fighters who had crossed blades many times in the past. Though one of us had once tried very hard to kill the other, we trusted each other enough now to treat it as a friendly contest rather than a battle.
Roden advanced first, forcing me back two steps before I countered. He had not lost the strength of his hits. Nor had he lost his irritating persistence. Steel rang against steel as our eyes locked with each other. His hits were harder than mine but I was faster. I stepped aside, parried his swing and struck back.
Roden in a fight with strangers was always difficult to beat, for he was as fierce and talented an opponent as nearly any warrior might encounter. But it was different when he fought someone who knew him. Because he followed the same pattern of attack, like a dance he had learned once and rehearsed with every new battle. And right now, Roden was fighting me precisely according to that dance. He moved like someone who had rehearsed every step in his head. I moved like someone who had refused to rehearse anything on principle. He moved with discipline, I with instinct, and between us lay two years of friendship, rivalry, and far too much of our shared history.
We trained often enough, but this was different. This was not routine practice beneath the watchful eyes of guards or the castle staff. This was simply Roden and me, blades in hand with the quiet understanding between us that neither of us would hold back. For a moment it felt almost comfortable, like falling back into a banter we had never finished.
Our blades clashed and parted, then I raised my sword for an attack. He blocked it with his sword and twisted around. Then, as if by habit, he aimed for my right leg. Again.
Did he hold a personal grudge against it? He had broken it once when we were enemies. He had stabbed the same leg in anger next year. And now he seemed convinced it was the most vulnerable part of me. At this point, I suspected my right leg had personally offended him.
I leapt back, letting out a string of curses and dodged him instinctively. He lunged at me again but my foot slipped on a worn stone and I crashed into him, causing us both to lose our balance.
We fell on the ground and I landed on my back. The impact had knocked my breath, and for a moment I was only aware of the weight, the warmth and the uncomfortable realization that Roden was on top of me as his sword skidded away across the stones. He had landed half-across me, one arm braced against the ground beside my shoulder. One of my legs was trapped beneath his knee while my sword lay forgotten a few paces away from me. I clearly knew how utterly ridiculous we appeared in that position. Time seemed to have stopped as we froze there, staring at each other.
“Well,” Roden said after a moment, “this is new.”
“I told you to stop aiming for my right leg. It’s clearly cursed.” My eyes narrowed at him. “Should I remind you, that you have already broken it once and also stabbed it last year?”
“I broke it when we were enemies. And I stabbed it when I was angry. It’s not personal.”
“That is the definition of personal. You aimed low,” I said.
“You dodged wrong.”
I made a face. “That’s not how dodging works.”
“It is if you do it badly. You could have simply stepped aside,” he said.
“I did step aside. That was the plan.”
That earned me a groan and our argument stalled after that. Neither of us moved. In the silence, I became uncomfortably aware of how close his face was to mine, of the familiar set of his jaw and the crease between his brows. We were close enough that I could hear his breathing and wished very much that we were not.
He stared at me, then further furrowed his brows, as if he just now noticed how close we were as well. “You dodged into me.”
“You fell on me.”
“You tripped on the stone.”
“I slipped and you lunged at me.”
He gave me a look. “You know I don’t hold back.”
“That’s what worries me,” I said. “You have an unsettling history with my right leg. Have you considered therapy?” After a beat, I added. “You could get up.”
“You could stop talking,” he replied. “And you didn’t have to pull me down with you.”
“I did not pull you—”
“You are still holding my sleeve.”
“That is because you landed on me.”
We might have continued the argument indefinitely, had not a far too familiar voice cut through the air.
“What are you two doing here?”
I briefly closed my eyes. It was Fink.
He added. “Are you wrestling? Who won it? Why are you on the ground? Are you hurt? Is this a new kind of training?”
I groaned in my mind, then rolled my eyes. Of all people in this castle, it had to be Fink. Couldn’t anyone else have come here? Anyone quieter? Anyone who understood when not to talk? Like a guard. A cook. Or even a passing noble. But no, it had to be Fink, who did not know when to stop talking and could fit far too many questions and conclusions in a single breath, without ever pausing to think.
We both scrambled apart with exaggerated speed. Finally, Roden stood and I did the same, rolling back to my feet so quickly that I nearly tripped over my own sword.
“This is not what it looks like, Fink,” I said at once.
Fink tilted his head, studying us with delighted curiosity. “Then what does it look like?”
“Nothing,” Roden said.
“Exactly nothing,” I agreed. “Roden fell on me,” I added, pointing at Roden.
“What? You pulled me down Jaron,” Roden protested, turning to me, equally quick.
I glared at him. “You tackled me.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did. You aimed at my right leg, again, as you always do.”
A grin widened across Fink’s face. “So, you two like each other?”
“No!” Roden and I said together in unison. After a while, Roden groaned. “Saints, help me.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Listen Fink, you will speak nothing of this.”
“I’ll tell everyone about this,” he announced cheerfully.
“No, you won't.” I pointed a finger at him. “If you say one more word of it, I will deny you dessert for a day again.”
That earned me a laugh. Apparently my threats weren't working on him. Because, he added. “I will still tell everyone of this.”
Before I could stop him, Tobias came in with Amarinda walking beside him. He was talking to her as she listened with a smile on her face. That was until Fink ran up to them with far too much enthusiasm. “You will never guess what I just saw.” He gestured back toward us and immediately began explaining what had happened.
I placed a hand over my face. Roden muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer and also partly like a curse.
Tobias looked from Fink to us for a moment, then raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“It was an accident,” I said.
Roden nodded vigorously. “Yes. It’s just Fink’s story. It is not at all how it sounds like. We were only swordfighting with each other.”
Amarinda laughed, covering her mouth with her fingers. “Perhaps, you should spar somewhere else.”
Fink was already backing away, laughing. “I’ll definitely tell Mott about this. Or maybe Harlowe.”
“Don’t you dare tell my father about this, Fink!” Roden said quickly, looking horrified. Which made Fink only laugh harder as he ran off, clearly pleased with himself.
Tobias sighed, then glanced at Amarinda. “Perhaps we should leave them to it and go somewhere else.”
She smiled and shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes before following Tobias out of the courtyard.
Roden looked at me, exasperated. “Look what you did. This is all your fault, Jaron.”
“My fault?” I snapped, frowning at him. “It’s not my fault Fink saw that.”
He folded his arms. “You accepted the challenge. And also you dodged poorly.”
I crossed my arms as well. “Then next time, maybe you should aim somewhere else.”
We stood there a moment longer, glaring at each other. Finally, Roden sighed. "We are never living this down.”
“I am aware of that.” Though, for some reason I couldn't help but grin. “Try not to fall on me next time.”
Roden hesitated, then nodded before I retrieved my sword, considering the matter finished. Of course, if Fink had already begun spreading his version of the story through half the castle, which he almost certainly had, then I supposed both Roden and I would need to pretend that nothing strange had occurred at all for quite some time. Otherwise, the story might follow us far longer than either of us would prefer.