Deception's Blade - Chapter Three (edited)

Chapter three is now up! Yay! As always I greatly appreciate any reviews/criticism, and if requested I'd be more than happy to return the favor. Sorry this chapter is so long, I sort of got carried away. If there's anything that can be removed without disruption to the character development/interactions, please let me know! Also, don't forget to check out Chapter One and Chapter Two when you get a chance!

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Smoothing down her hair in frustration, Eona looked up as she approached the end of the corridor. Two armed guards stood on either side of the heavy wooden doors, visors raised and eyes held high as they gripped their decorative spears.

As she grew nearer, Eona immediately caught sight of the young courier who had summoned her. When he looked up at the sound of her footsteps he nearly choked. "Lady Trinity!" he exclaimed, dipping his head in an unusually low bow as his cheeks reddened.

"Have I caught you off guard, boy?" she asked with an amused giggle. "I do hope you told the lord I was coming. I would hate for him to think that I neglected his invitation."

If the courier sensed the sarcasm dripping from her words, he made no mention of it. "N-no, milady!" The boy tugged at the hem of his tunic, eyes trained at the leather boots covering Eona's feet as his blush deepened. "He's expecting you."

Deciding it best to cease the boy's embarrassment before his face permanently adopted the red hue, Eona straightened her posture and turned to look reluctantly at the doors before her. Any feelings of good humor vanished as quickly as they came.

"Well, I suppose we mustn't keep my father waiting any longer." She glanced down at the boy and offered him her arm. "Shall we?"

The courier nodded, turning to give three short claps in the direction of the guardsmen. Eona noted the small sense of pride that washed over his features as the armored men complied, and when he accepted her arm she tried to return the sincerity of his smile, but it felt empty in light of what awaited just beyond the open doors.

To the mindless barbarity my father indulges himself in, she thought bitterly. May it end swiftly.

"Announcing the arrival of Lady Eona Trinity!" her young escort called out once they had entered the viewing box, bowing as he withdrew his hand from Eona's arm.

Eona spared a quick glance over her shoulder as the only exit groaned shut, swallowing the retreating pageboy from view, and a low sigh whistled from her nose. There was no escape now.

The box, as it were, was not very big. At top capacity the small balcony could accommodate ten people, and only five of them would be seated in the ornate cushioned chairs that overlooked the arena from behind the stone banister. A large overhanging canopy protected the occupants from either rain or snow that would otherwise hinder their enjoyment of the outdoor events below.

Two guards stood alert in the balcony's farthest corners. Clutched tightly in their silver gauntlets were elegant spears; orange cloth wrapped their length, spiraling steadily upwards until just below the deadly spearhead, where it tapered out into a flying banner.

Although bright orange would not have been her color of choice for House Trinity, and consequentially the region of Sternhelm, Eona did admit that it complimented the lances rather nicely. The banner straightened for a moment as a gust of wind whipped by, and she caught a brief glimpse of the black crest at its center: a rearing lion, fore claws lashing out in frozen combat and three-pronged tongue slithering forward between open jowls.

She would have preferred a more creative insignia, but the roaring lion had served as an adequate coat of arms for several generations.

"Ah-na!"

Eona turned her head as a pair of scrawny arms wrapped themselves around her midsection. Her eyes glimmered in delight as they trailed down to the mop of unruly brown hair pressed against her belly. "Albear!"

The head of hair rolled back to reveal twinkling blue eyes and soft brown-speckled cheeks. "How is my favorite little brother today?" Eona asked as she returned the boy's warm embrace.

Albear pulled away, his nose wrinkled as a confused expression contorted his features. "Aren't I your only brother?"

Eona reached down to ruffle his brown tresses, a soft giggle rumbling in her throat when he batted away her hand in protest. "I certainly hope so," she said. "I can hardly keep up with your mischievous exploits! I doubt I could handle as much from another."

The young boy's lips stretched out into a smug grin as he took her words for a compliment, and Eona playfully pinched his cheeks.

"Ow!" Albear rubbed his face, narrowing his eyes at his sister.

"That wasn't a compliment, silly." Eona laughed as the boy stuck out his tongue and scrunched his nose.

"Terrorizing your brother again, Eona?"

The familiar low rumble caught her ear, and Eona turned her attention to the cushioned chairs with a weary sigh. "Only when the little rascal deserves it, father."

That elicited a deep guttural laugh, and Eona forced a meek smile.

She felt the sudden focus of blue eyes trained intently upon her and glanced down. Albear had one eyebrow cocked in curiosity, but apprehension was scrawled across his features.

Eona wanted to roll her eyes at his evident concern, but instead she flashed him a grin and reached down to grasp his hand. It was no secret that she disagreed with Lord Trinity on a number of things, their disputes often ending in raised voices and heated arguments. Eona shook her head as she reflected on past debates they had shared over the years.

Many of them had been minor quarrels—harmless parries of differing views that were quickly resolved and ended without any lingering resentment. But there were a precious few that had sent both her father and herself stomping off in a boiling fury, and for days after a black cloud of aversion hovered above their heads, striking down anyone who dared cross their paths with enraged white-hot lightning.

Her love for her father was great despite their profuse bickering, a point she would never detest. Still, she would not subject her younger brother to another argument. Once was more than enough, and Albear had tearfully objected to seeing his father and sister squabble so heatedly. She would not be the reason he would do so again.

Eona gave her brother's hand a soft pat as if to confirm her good intentions, and Albear offered her a reassured grin.

"Come here, my children. Join your father in the glory of today's match!"

The words sliced through Eona's thoughts as if they were made of butter, and every muscle in her body tensed for a fleeting second. She hated being called a child; she was nearly twenty-one now!

She felt a gentle pressure on her hand—a warning from her brother—and slowly exhaled, willing herself to relax. She decided to allow the comment to slide without any rebuttal. Thosol's teeth, I hope there won't be any more, she thought glumly as she allowed Albear to tug her toward her chair. I'm not certain I can hold my tongue for too long.

Albear released his grip on Eona's hand and settled himself into the chair closest to their father. It was then she noticed the balcony's other occupant sitting to the lord's right.

He was a tall thin man, with a gaunt face and a pointed goatee that hid his lips—a stark contrast to her father, who was stocky and clean-shaven. His short black hair was streaked with strands of gray and his hooked nose jutted outward like the beak of a hawk. Resting atop his peppered head was a golden circlet adorned with amethyst jewels; the robe he wore was fashioned from purple and gold silk, the colors for the province of Dernhest, with the blue-tinged winter fur of a kerebu knitted around the collar.

"L-lord Divikus!" Eona stuttered, nearly forgetting her curtsy as she addressed the Noble. "Forgive me, my lord, I didn't know you had arrived."

"Oh come now, Eona!" With a wave of his bejeweled hand, Lord Dominik Divikus grinned. "No formalities dear girl, I command it," he said with a wink, his gray eyes flicking over her frame. "I've been like an uncle to you children your entire lives. We're all family here."

Though his visits had been few in the last ten years, Dominik's presence was always a blessing in their home. He would shower her and Albear with gifts upon his arrival—silk robes, trinkets, rare furs, and bundles of the sweet, chewy dellywheat crop that Dernhest was known for. In his spare time he would teach Albear the proper way to fire an arrow or swing a sword, while at night he would relieve their nursemaid Naneria of her duties, insisting that his stories were far better than her own. And, to Eona's relief, he often kept her father occupied during his stay with talk of politics and gossip about the other Nobles of the realm.

Returning the lord's grin, Eona nodded and took her seat. "It's always a pleasure, uncle."

Turning his gaze back to her father, Dominik clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Tell me, old man," he said, laughing as Azir snorted at the mockery of his age. "What bloodsport will we be enjoying today? A joust? Swordplay?"

Before Azir could respond, a flourish of trumpets rose up from the arena floor as a man stepped to the center of the snowy field. His orange tabard, trimmed around the cuffs and collar with the same white-and-blue fur that Lord Dominik bore, was emblazoned with the black lion of House Trinity.

"My lords and lady," the herald called out, bowing as he addressed the box. "It pleases me to announce the start of the fifth match in our winter games!"

All around the tiered arena, shouts and guffaws rose up from the spectators like claps of thunder. Eona rolled her eyes at the unabashed bloodlust that surrounded her, groaning as her father roared along with them.

Once the excitement had subsided, the herald cleared his throat. "If it pleases milord, what shall the event be today?"

This time the shouts that arose from the arena were indistinguishable, the attendees' words muddled together as they each called out an event that they wanted to see.

"Joust! Give us a joust!"

"Nay, a fight!"

"Let the animals loose!"

Chuckling at the display of enthusiasm, Azir pushed himself to his feet and raised a jeweled hand. Immediately the crowd fell silent; a testament to her father's intimidating appeal, and of his respect as a leader.

"My people!" he said, his voice resonating through the cold air. As her father gave his usual speech at the start of these games, Eona tuned out his words and focused her gaze on him.

Though he was a head shorter than most of the other Nobles in Delzengar's sovereignties, and a few pounds heavier, Azir's commanding nature more than made up for what he lacked in appearance. A golden circlet filled with amber stones lay on a cushion of long auburn hair, once as lustrous as her own but now fading with age. Curly locks framed his round wrinkled face and his jowls sagged, but his piercing green eyes were aglow with childlike passion.

Half a century old and he still acts like a boy at these events, she mused with a smirk. And he calls me a child!

"It is with great honor," her father continued, drawing Eona from her thoughts, "that I ask our guest and my close friend, Lord Divikus of Dernhest, to choose the event of today's match!"

Dominik laughed as he rose, quieting the arena with a wave of his hand. "Many thanks for this honor, Lord Trinity." He stroked his goatee with an absentminded hand as he weighed the options available to him. "Perhaps a joust will satisfy this crowd's thirst for blood?"

Upon hearing the murmurs of disapproval Dominik shook his head, his grin widening. "Nay, too boring! A fight, however," he mused, lifting his arms as he addressed the crowd. "Two prisoners, pit against each other in a battle to the death. What say you, citizens of Trisdayn?"

Pleased with the roar of approval, Dominik clapped his hands together and turned his attention over to Azir, who laughed and motioned to the herald. "Come, let us warm our spirits with a death match!"

As the preparations were made in the arena below, Azir turned to Eona and grinned. "This match I dedicate in your name, daughter," he said as he resumed his seat. A young serving girl approached them, balancing a silver tray laden with empty cups on one hand while brandishing a flagon of red wine in the other.

"Oh father, please," Eona groaned as she declined a cup of wine. "You know I loathe these games."

"Father, I can't see!" Albear spoke up, straining his neck to peek over the banister.

Laughing, Azir reached under his son's arms and hoisted the boy onto his lap. "There you are, lad!"

"Albear is far too young for these kinds of events," Eona said, shaking her head in disapproval. "This isn't one of Nan's stories, father, the deaths here are real. It'll give him nightmares!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Eona!" Azir scoffed, patting his son's head. "The boy's a Trinity, death doesn't scare him!"

"Announcing the arrival of Captain Daveth von Casvian!" called the same pageboy who had escorted her earlier.

Eona felt a sigh of relief escape her lips as she realized just how close she had been to starting an argument with her father. Remember your promise to Albear, she cautioned silently.

"Ah, Daveth," Azir greeted, motioning to the serving girl. "Just in time! A cup of wine?"

Daveth shook his head, eyes locking with Eona's gaze for a moment. "No, milord." He offered Eona a subtle wink, as if to say that he was there upon her request and not her father's. "But thank you."

With a shrug, Azir took a swig of his own cup and exchanged a few words with Dominik.

"I must say I'm impressed," Eona said as Daveth moved to her side, placing his hands on the stone banister and glancing out over the arena. "It takes a certain kind of knight to refuse a drink from his lord."

"Oh?" Daveth raised a brow but kept his gaze on the boisterous crowd below. "And what kind of knight would that make me, milady?"

"A foolish one, Sir Daveth, for the drink makes him easier to endure!"

Daveth chuckled and shook his head. "Aye, milady, then I am a fool." Then more loudly, so her father could hear him, Daveth said, "What sort of sport are we having today, milord?"

"A death match, if it pleases you."

Daveth turned at Dominik's words, his eyes wide with surprise. "Lord Divikus!" he exclaimed with a bow. "Forgive me, milord, no one informed me of your arri—"

"We've been through this already, captain," Dominik said with a dismissive wave. He turned to Azir and grinned. "Apparently it was a good surprise if even your captain was baffled by my presence."

Daveth cast his eyes downward, his face reddening as the lords shared a laugh. He glanced at Eona and frowned. "A fool indeed, milady," he whispered, his fists clenching against the banister.

Eona's face softened. The captain had always prided himself on his duty, and as Azir's right hand he valued the safety of House Trinity above all else—the fact that he was uninformed of a Noble's arrival made him appear incompetent in his lord's eyes.

In an effort to relieve Daveth of his embarrassment, Eona turned to her father. "You said this match was dedicated to me," she said. "What's the occasion?"

"Ah yes, I nearly forgot." Azir scooted Albear off his lap and motioned to Dominik, who stood up and took the boy to the other end of the balcony—a strange move, but Eona pushed the thought aside as her father turned to her. "You remember Paschel?"

Eona blinked, her mind rattled by a name she had not heard spoken of since she was a child. "Uncle Dominik's son?" she asked. "The hunchback?"

"A true misfortune," Azir admitted quietly. "If only his eldest son had survived that hunting expedition last year. Oh, Darron would have been an excellent match for you!"

Eona felt her blood freeze. Her heart pounded in her ears as her mind began to race with possible meanings to her father's words.

Darron Divikus had been a handsome man, yes, but he had also died last year. Dominik's wife had been taken with such grief that her presence was scarce the entire ceremony, and even their youngest Paschel had been absent—though, now that she thought of it, he was rarely ever seen. Deformed at birth, Paschel Divikus was the shame that Dominik hardly ever spoke of. Hunched back, disfigured face, eyes of two different colors; it was ironic that the son he most detested was now Dominik's sole heir.

But a match?

"We played together," Eona spoke up, her head still swirling from the hidden implication. "As children, years ago. Darron would pick on Paschel so I would say nice things to stop his crying. It was always dreadful when he cried."

Azir snorted. "Aye, I remember. He was an ugly babe, that one."

Eona glanced at Daveth. He remained slouched against the banister, eyes trained to the arena grounds as the event began, but Eona knew that he was listening to Azir's ever word.

"Father," Eona whispered, finally turning her gaze to Azir, searching his face for answers. "What is today about? Why is Lord Divikus here?"

"Well, my daughter." Azir tossed back his wine as the arena echoed with the clash of swords and the holler of onlookers placing bets. "Dominik and I have discussed this at length for some time now and we've both concluded that such a union is necessary to further strengthen the relations between our two provinces."

Eona shook her head as if to shake away his words. "What union?"

"You question me for the last time, girl," he murmured. Without a second thought, Azir downed the last bit of his drink and met Eona with a hard stare. "Today is the day of your engagement! You are to wed Paschel in three month's time, at the start of the planting season." He raised his cup for a refill, shaking his head as his eyes darkened. "It's high time you take on your responsibilities as a noblewoman, Eona. It's time you learned your place!"