Once Upon a Castle - Jill Gregory [116]
She turned away with the laughter of the other young people ringing in her ears. That should silence Nidd for a while. Instead, there was the unmistakable sound of a weapon sliding out of its sheath. She whirled around like a cat and found Nidd mere paces away from her, with his rapier drawn. He lunged at her.
“Let us see how brave you are now, Sir Trev!”
She had only her jeweled dagger. Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, she drew the weapon and switched to an alert, defensive posture.
“Not fair!” someone in the crowd cried. “A dagger is no match for a rapier blade.” The speaker, a sandy-haired older boy, took out his own weapon and tossed it to Tressalara. “This will equal the match.”
She hefted it and grinned. The balance was perfect, the blade strong and true. “A fine piece of the swordmaker’s art. I thank you for the loan of it.”
With a swish and a flourish she brandished it in the air. Nidd was too angry to recognize the skill evident in the way she handled the rapier. But the onlookers did, and they looked forward to an exciting test of arms. “Have at it, then!”
Tressalara waited for him to make the first move. Nidd thrust wildly, and she parried it with ease. He was briefly startled, then weighed in. Although she was well trained, with a quick eye and the reflexes of a cat, Nidd’s height and reach gave him a slight advantage.
What she lacked in strength or reach she made up for in wit and cunning. Tressalara danced away, darted beneath his thrust, and came up with her blade singing against his. A fast bit of footwork and she was out of reach again. “Catch me if you can!”
Time and again she evaded his rapier, laughing at his bewilderment. She was proud of the way she handled the blade and hoped that Cador was watching. It had become more and more important to her that she truly win his approval. Whether the stories told of the wicked outlaw of Kildore were true or not, she had seen no villainy in him—and much to admire.
Perhaps too much, for as her thoughts slid to Cador, Nidd gained a slight advantage. She turned her wits to the task at hand. The angry youth bore in once more, pressing her sorely. He thrust beneath her rapier, only to have his quarry slide her blade along his. He charged in once more, in deadly earnest. By the saints, he’d make this upstart Trev sorry he’d ever set foot in camp!
It took only a few moments for Tressalara to realize that Nidd was not interested in merely besting her—he intended to do her serious harm. Now that she appreciated the danger, she fought back with all the skill she’d learned from Jeday. Her only hope of escaping injury was to let him see that she could hold her own—and more. She led Nidd to give her the next opening, then darted through with a time-thrust, lightly nipping his arm. It had taken great skill to nick him without going too deep, and for a tiny moment she was proud of her control.
Then Nidd staggered back, clapping his hand over his sleeve. The fabric was stained with a small spot of red from where she’d nicked him. How many times had Jeday told her that pride and anger had no place in such a duel? Tressalara lowered her rapier, remorse flowing through her.
“Let us cry friends, Nidd. Come, I will bind up your arm for you.”
The look he gave her should have been warning enough, but Tressalara didn’t see it. As she stepped toward him, he stood mute, his complexion changing from red to white and back again. To be shown up publicly by this scrawny boy filled him with unbearable shame. The flurry of snickers from the onlookers was like a spear in the side of a maddened boar.
Red mist covered his vision. Nidd stood with his foil half raised, made as if to pull back, then lunged in, aiming for her heart. A gasp went up from the crowd. Tressalara was caught off guard by his cowardly attack. Although she reacted with all due speed, it was too