AERIS
CHAPTER 10
"Duel?" Marlik gave a dry laugh. His eyes, black and shining like river stones, looked Aeris over. She wore silver like her sisters. A small crown rested on her red hair. Her hands were gloved. She looked like a princess—pale, fine-featured, thin arms, not tall. Not the kind to make warriors pause. She knew this. Knew Marlik and Zerek would think her weak.
"Princess," Marlik said, "do you hope the prince will kill you, so you can blame Skaldur and break the treaty?"
Her father's eyes lit up at the thought. Selene, standing very still, shifted slightly. Her fingers twitched. She knew Aeris better than the others.
"Kill me?" Aeris smiled. Selene had told her not to smile like that—too wild for a princess. She was supposed to stay calm. She was calm. Her family didn't know how far she'd come in her training. She would show them. She would win respect, not just as a daughter of the crown but as a warrior.
She turned to Zerek. Her voice was steady. "You are welcome to try."
Zerek grinned, showing sharp teeth—not a smile, but a predator's snarl. "Aye, Marlik, this makes sense," he said, though his gaze stayed fixed on Aeris. "In Skaldur, strong women will not take men who cannot best them. You amuse me, little princess. I accept."
"But Prince Zerek, she is but a wisp of a girl," said Marlik. "One swing of a blade would toss her like straw in wind."
The men roared with laughter—loud, rough, cruel. Their voices scraped against Aeris's pride like sharp stones. Her hands curled into fists. Her teeth pressed tight. "Why don't you try it, then—"
"Aeris!" The shout came from Eiran. "Hold your tongue and return to your place."
He did not say please, but she saw it in his eyes. All her brothers stood the same, shoulders stiff, eyes full of fear. Not fear for the fight but fear for her. To them, she was still the frail girl who once fell from trees and cried when she scraped her knees.
"I will fight in her stead."
All turned. Soren stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword. His eyes did not leave Aeris. He bowed first to the king, then to Prince Zerek.
"I am Soren Cyrden, her sworn guardian. It is my duty to protect Princess Aeris and her honor."
"Soren…" Aeris breathed his name, stunned. Was this doubt? Did he think her weak, too?
The king's shoulders eased. He let out a breath he'd been holding.
"That is better. Soren will—"
"No." Zerek's voice cut through like a blade.
"Did none of you hear me? I accepted her challenge. I do not know the customs of Duskari, but in Skaldur, when a duel is claimed and accepted—it stands. No one may take her place."
Zerek's smile turned brutal as a wolf's fang. He looked to Soren.
"If you wish to face me, I accept. We fight at dawn."
"No! he means to kill her!" cried Thorne, drawing steel. He lifted his blade, calling for his men.
But then he froze. The color drained from his face. Around the hall, his warriors stood pressed to the stone wall, weapons gone, held fast by Skaldur men. So quiet, so quick. No one had seen it happen.
The king, still seated, acted as though he noticed none of it. "Prince Zerek," he said, voice firm but weary. "My daughter has had no true training. How can she stand against you?"
Zerek glanced at Aeris and gave a slight nod. "She believes she can."
The words struck something deep in Aeris. She hated him—this heathen prince with blood on his hands—but still, it was the first time someone looked at her and did not doubt. Maybe he was mocking her. Maybe he planned something dark. She didn't care. At least he saw her.
The king spoke again,"It does not matter what she thinks. Even if she must fight… facing you is too much. She is only a girl."
All eyes turned to Zerek. The thought was the same in each mind he was huge. Nearly twice Aeris's size. Even with her heels, her head would barely reach his chest. His arms were thick with corded muscle, veined like river roots, built from years of war and bloodshed.
It was too much. Zerek gave a low scoff. "I see your meaning."
He turned to his warriors and pointed. "Scar. Come here. You are the smallest among us."
A man stepped forward, lean and tall, with sinew stretched over hard bone. A long scar carved down his face, cutting through one eye, white and blind. He grinned like a dog hungry for bone. "I'll take the princess," he said. "Hope it's not a problem if I break her."
Zerek's smile grew wider, hungrier. "Not a problem," he said.
Aeris stepped forward, voice steady, chin high. "And if I defeat him, you and your heathen dogs will leave Duskari lands and never return."
She did not care who stood against her. Even if it were Zerek himself. He might be larger. Stronger. But her will was harder than steel, and she would not break.