Winterbourne's Daughter Read online

  "So which village is yours?" Renaud asked. "I live in Masonfield."

  Very close to the Wall, then. Pity. Well, perhaps if sales stayed good, they would meet each other here again. There was no ridiculously high entry fee to pay any more, after all. "We're in Warelane."

  "Isn't that right next to Vedrana's Forest?"

  Gennadi nodded, standing up a little straighter. "I've been in there a time or two."

  "Really? Did you see any monsters? Which were the worst?"

  "Well, the Dwarves were terrifying―"

  "Did you fight them?"

  Actually, he'd run away screaming, but that wouldn't be the most charming picture to put forward. "Lucky I'm alive," Gennadi evaded. "But the worst were the nightmare lights."

  "I don't think I've ever heard of those."

  "If you ever go into Vedrana's Forest and see blue lights, don't look right at 'em. They take your worst fear and show it right to you. Awful way to go."

  "Have you ever been to Village-by-the-Sea?"

  "No," Gennadi said. "You?"

  "Not me, but my father has. He says―" Renaud glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "He says it's even more amazing than this castle. Some people live so close to the ocean they can about reach their hands out their front doors and touch it. And there are mermaids." When Gennadi just gave him a confused look, he went on. "Top half of a woman and the bottom half of a fish."

  "Has to be just a story," Gennadi said, though he could feel his heart light up with curiosity. If a forest held such oddities, what might an entire ocean contain?

  "Swear on my life," Renaud said. "My father saw the skeleton of one with his own eyes. If you ever get a chance to go trade there, take it. Cured fish is fine, sure, but fresh fish is supposed to be the best thing you could ever eat."

  Gennadi was trying to figure out how to segue into the possibility of meeting up with each other again next week when Renaud peered behind him and frowned. "What?" Gennadi asked.

  "Well, your little brother was peeking out and making faces at me―" Gennadi turned, ready to lecture, only to go completely still. "―and then he just ran off."

  Gennadi looked this way and that, searching the crowd for his younger brother. Just when he was about to start yelling his name, he saw Donatien scurrying through the crowd. Caught sight of a sweets cart, no doubt.

  "Tell my mother what's going on," he said, and then hurried past Renaud and ran after his brother.

  He was nowhere used to his newfound height yet.

  He'd always been awkward as a child, and this latest growth spurt had morphed that into full-out clumsiness. He bumped into three people on his quest to catch Donatien before the boy could run into a carriage's path or something else equally dangerous, and then he nearly got hit by a carriage himself.

  Jumping back out of the way of the trotting armorhart, Gennadi stumbled, knocking directly into someone behind him.

  Turning, the sight of a young man around his own age had him falling silent. This other was dressed in finery the likes of which he had never worn and would never wear―only now, those fine clothes were a dripping, slimy mess. Gennadi hadn't knocked into him directly but rather into the basket of eggs he'd been carrying.

  A loyalist's son. And he'd done this.

  Before Gennadi could gather his words together, the other boy narrowed his eyes and then actually stomped his foot at Gennadi. "You tell me you're sorry, right now!"

  Embarrassment immediately morphed into anger, and Gennadi glared right back, tempted to spit on this pompous brat's foot. Then he felt a hand on his arm. His mother―with, fortunately, little Donatien in tow.

  "Oh, dear," Ambre murmured. "We're quite sorry about this."

  "No," the loyalist's son said. "I want to hear it from him."

  "Beg your pardon," she said. "I merely―"

  Her words stopped suddenly, interrupted by the crack of his palm across her cheek. "Did I or did I not say I wanted to hear from your boy?"

  Gennadi leapt at him.

  He'd scrapped around with the village children but never anything quite this serious and, he realized, never against an opponent who was so very, very poor at fighting back. It was this realization that finally let him give in to his mother as she tried to pull him away, his knuckles split from the force of his blows. The loyalist's son was curled on the ground, wailing.

  More importantly to him, his little brother was crying as well. He quickly went to Donatien, trying to calm him, and then a furious shout had him turning back.

  A man and woman hurried forward, concern turning to fury as they looked from their son to him. "Guards!" the man yelled. Then he strode up to Gennadi, fists clenched. "Violent little cur," he snarled. "I'll see you put on the circuit!"

  "Loyalist, please," Ambre begged, kneeling, one hand over her heart in apology. "He's only sixteen. Do not have him sent away. I will pay you what I can; I will work as a bondservant for as long as you require―"

  "I only fought him because he struck my mother!" Gennadi protested.

  The woman frowned, helping her son to his feet. "No mention of whatever she did to earn it, I see. Oh, poor darling, look at your clothes! Shh. Come on, let's get you to a doctor."

  Realizing there was no quarter to be found with the loyalists, Gennadi turned to his mother. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll be fine. You can earn plenty of king's copper in the fighting circuit! I'll send you back anything I can. And you," he said, hugging Donatien. "Be good. No... no getting into fights?"

  The small boy nodded, scrubbing at the tears on his face, and then he dove into his mother's arms.

  "Mom," Gennadi said. "I'm sorry."

  "It's all right," she said, tears shining in her eyes. "Just be careful. Please."

  "Actually," the woman said, and Gennadi dared to give her a hopeful look. Then he saw the expression on her face as she looked over his mother and brother. "What you said about working for us? I do believe we'll take you up on that. And you needn't worry about sending them king's copper, boy," she said, giving Gennadi a too-sweet smile. "We'll provide them with whatever they need."

  Then the guards grabbed Gennadi's arms and led him away.

  *~*~*

  They were inside the Wall now, at least. Gennadi had to focus on that and remind himself that at least his mother and Donatien weren't in any danger from the monsters in Vedrana's Forest―

  No, just monsters with haughty expressions and fancy clothes.

  It would be all right, Gennadi thought. The loyalists might not approve of him sending his family king's copper, but they would be fine with him sending it to them. Four of the other fighters who were here now had joined the circuit because they wanted to be able to earn enough to buy their relatives or friends from servitude. He would do the same.

  Though granted, this latest development meant that it would take him longer to get them out.

  Roz had called a meeting of the fighters, asked for help. Sier daughter Soraya was pregnant, and given that the year's third deathfight was scheduled in less than ten days' time, they had to get her out as quickly as possible.

  His first training session had been with Roz. He'd asked sier how sie'd gotten to be here; sie'd told him that sie'd had an entertainment stand at one of the weekly village markets, doing trick throws with sier knives, until someone had told sier that sie could make so much more king's copper by joining the circuit. And sie had, later in the year when drought stole sier crops for the second year in a row and sie hadn't been able to afford to keep the farm. At which point Gennadi had set down his sword and asked very politely (he would not use the word 'begged', though from the glimmer of amusement that had been in sier eyes he was sure that term was more accurate) for sier to show him some of the knife tricks.

  Roz obliged, and told Gennadi about sier village all the while, and he'd given sier stories of his own, finally telling sier of the situation his mother and brother were in. Sie had responded by telling him about sier child, who had been assigned
to the circuit after siding against King Nazar during the coup.

  Roz had been the one who'd reminded him, in the midst of his depression and panic, that bondservants could

  almost always be bought from their masters. Sie had given him hope again.

  Given that, how could he not help sier?

  Most of the fighters, it turned out, sent their king's copper elsewhere. One of the loyalists, Yelena, came and gathered coin and letters, delivering them to friends and family beyond the Wall. So when Roz asked for help on Soraya's behalf, nearly all of the fighters gave what they could, but it hadn't amounted to enough. Gennadi had heard stories in the village about the terrifying, hardhearted men and women who worked the fighting circuit... but suddenly he found himself sitting in a group of people who looked heartbroken at not being able to help one of their own. Several looked close to tears.

  And so he'd put up all of the rest.

  It had set him back five months' worth of saved earnings and winnings, but he knew it was the right thing to do. Moreover, he knew that his mother would say the same thing.

  He wasn't expecting the hug one of the other fighters immediately gave him.

  "Not a problem," he muttered, quickly getting to his feet. "I can last a day or two without visiting the shops for such a cause."

  "That's more than a day or two's winnings," another fighter said, clapping him on the back as he headed away. "Good of you."

  Certain that his face was red by now, Gennadi shook his head. "Now, don't start cooing at me. It's only about self-preservation. She fights in that Arena and she'll be fighting for herself and that baby, and I've been on enough hunts to know you never threaten a mama's cubs."

  "Very true," Roz said. "And I know you dearly want to run, boy, but I'm going to hug you anyway."

  He smiled at sier and opened his arms, and Roz gave him a brief hug before stepping back and addressing him quietly. "Aubin was right," sie said. "That is far more than a day or two's winnings. I will repay you any king's copper I earn from a fight, until the debt is paid."

  "I don't..." he began, but then nodded once. After all, coin from the two of them would add up much faster than just his earnings. "Thank you, Roz. Though, I have to ask... you called a meeting of everyone, and didn't ask the Champion? Given his record, he must have enough king's copper to buy every single one of us our freedom, possibly twice over."

  Sie blinked at him and then gave an indulgent smile. "You're so boisterous that sometimes I forget how new you are," sie said. Roz sierself had been on the circuit for years; sier left arm wouldn't bend correctly anymore and sie bore a wicked scar that rose from the top right corner of sier lip up towards sier nose. "He doesn't earn anything for his battles or for his deathfights."

  "What? Why not?"

  "Because he refused to fight King Thibault's daughter in the Arena. King Nazar turned him into a bondservant and sentenced him to serve this place until he dies."

  Gennadi winced. He hadn't really spoken to the Champion―so far as he could tell, nobody did―and given that the man didn't socialize with anyone else after the battles or during training, he'd just assumed he was standoffish. Which he'd seen as both a pity and a blessing. A pity because, after hearing so many impressive tales about his accomplishments in the Arena, he dearly wanted to speak with him and perhaps even become friends. A blessing because his admiration for the man may have shifted more into deeper feelings, which meant any attempt to talk to him would just result in Gennadi tripping over his own words.

  "I have to go let Soraya know," Roz said. "I didn't even tell her that I was going to ask this of all of you. I didn't want to get her hopes up if I couldn't..." Sie cleared sier throat and gave him a bright smile. "Thank you again. I might even consider letting you get a hit in next time we spar."

  "No, you won't."

  Sie laughed. "No, I won't."

  *~*~*

  Three months later, having saved enough king's copper, Gennadi asked Roz to write him the letter. Sie did so, and the following day he sent it out with Loyalist Yelena. She said that she knew the couple who had 'hired' his family. She told him that they weren't truly as bad as they'd first seemed, and while the look on Yelena's face had been sincere, Gennadi was afraid that she was just trying to make him feel better.

  When he got the reply six days later, he became certain of it.

  "Are you sure you don't want to wait until after the battle?" Roz asked, unfolding the letter. "Best to keep a clear head beforehand, especially since you're going against the Champion. Good news or bad might impair your reflexes, and―"

  "Not as much as not knowing would," he said. "Besides, it's not to the death." While he was old enough to participate in a deathfight―barely―his name had yet to be called. Sooner or later, though, it would be. He dreaded that and looked forward to it all at the same time―the idea of fighting someone to the death was terrifying, but those battles provided much more king's copper to the winners.

  Roz raised sier eyebrows at him but finally returned sier gaze to the paper.

  "We find your concern for your kin quite admirable," Roz read. "However, they have proven to be valuable help and as such they will be staying. No need to waste your coin (though I assure you, were we willing to give them up, it would be for a much higher price than the sum you offered)." Sie glanced up at him, grief plain on sier face, and then quietly finished. "We wish you well. Loyalist Emeric and Loyalist Orianne."

  Gennadi slowly took the letter from sier hands and stared at it, as if his glare would make the letters rearrange themselves into more agreeable words. Then he swore loudly and tore the thick paper to shreds.

  "I'm so sorry, Gennadi," Roz said.

  Knowing that anything he said would come out in a yell and unwilling to shout at sier, Gennadi stormed out of the room, heading to the entrance of the Arena. The gate was still closed, but he could hear the rustle of the loyalists' clothes, the murmur of their voices.

  Were Emeric and Orianne there? Had they brought along his mother, his brother, so they could watch their expressions during the fight and laugh at their concern for him?

  As the gate opened, Gennadi, fists clenched so tightly his hands ached, nearly shoved the guard aside in his haste. People shouted and cheered as he entered, laughter in their voices, and he searched the shadowy crowd for his family's familiar silhouettes.

  He stalked to the weapons wall, looking everything over, and then turned a glare toward King Nazar when he spoke loudly.

  "Eager, are we?"

  The loyalists around him laughed, and Gennadi bared his teeth in a poor semblance of a grin. It was enough for the fools up above, who continued to snicker and pay compliments to their king.

  "Gennadi?"

  He turned to the Champion, tempted to start the battle early by swinging on him right now. "Oh," he snapped. "So you can talk."

  "On occasion," the Champion replied, utterly nonplussed. It was all Gennadi could do not to snarl at him. Could he at least have the decency to look insulted?

  "Face me," the king ordered, and the two of them moved away from the weapons and looked up towards the king expectantly.

  "And now shake hands," he said, humor plain in his voice. "This battle will be fought with no weapons."

  "Son of a..." Gennadi grumbled. No weapons meant the fight wasn't over until one of them was beaten to the ground. Whoever won, this was going to hurt.

  Good.

  *~*~*

  For a time, after her own would-be deathfight, Lisette became quite interested in the battles.

  If King Nazar announced that they were deathfights, she left her perch―she had no interest in seeing that; she would have nightmares for months―but in the battles, fighters were simply brought to the ground or knocked unconscious, and she found herself fascinated by the fighting itself.

  Lisette wondered what it would be like to be able to throw a punch that would make someone stagger away from you and stay away. She daydreamed about being able to do that to Nazar
, throwing wild swings into the air when she was alone in the chandlery.

  She never knew any of the people who entered the Arena until one night when it took longer than usual to get all of her cleaning done. She scurried to her perch, only to see the man who'd once spared her life take a hard hit to the face and fall. He was up again quickly, but...

  Telling herself that this was foolish―she had spoken to other handservants about him, had she not? His only known name was the Champion for a reason; he surely did not require her aid―Lisette jumped down regardless, making a loyalist who hadn't even realized she was there squeak in surprise. Paying the loyalist no mind, Lisette took off down one of the narrow servant hallways, racing down the stairs and around the building to the entrance of the Arena. The gate was closed, but the bars were spaced to keep out adults, not someone of her size. And the guard, who certainly hadn't been expecting her, didn't even realize she was there until she'd squeezed her way through. He reached in after her, almost getting a hand in her hair. It was still too short for her liking, but as Lisette jerked away and ran for the two fighters, for the first time she felt slightly pleased that the king had ordered it shorn.

  "Stop it!" she shouted, trying to wedge herself between the fighters and letting out an indignant squawk when one of them stepped on her foot. "Ow! I said stop!"

  The two of them moved apart, staring down at her, and she marched up to the stranger, throwing a high punch and hitting him in the side. He was apparently wearing some kind of armor under his dark shirt because she heard a clanging sound and felt a painful vibration go all the way up her arm, but she contained a wince and tried her best to look fierce.

  He took a step forward. Behind Lisette, her Champion put a hand on her shoulder and started to pull her back. "Gennadi..." he said, voice full of warning.

  Gennadi looked up, a faint smile on his battered face. "Relax. You aren't the only one who has no quarrel with a fighter so young."

  "I may be young yet but that doesn't mean I won't―hey!" she snapped, when the Arena guard came up beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist, easily lifting her. "Put me down this instant!"