Sir Gavin let out a wail of anguish. I saw Lord Garrison surge forward before catching himself. Up here, he could not help his son.
I let out a curse. My mother would be ashad of my manners in front of the royal family, but I could not help my dismay.
"Lord Holden! Contain yourself!" Queen Valerie reprimanded.
"That filthy cheater! Lord Carrion knows of Sir Gavin's injury." I said in my defense, more toward Lord Garrison than to the queen.
"My son is injured?" Lord Garrison queried.
"Unless you have ironclad evidence to force to stop this match, please keep your comntary till after these two are done fighting." Queen Valerie instructed behind clenched teeth.
Queen Valerie could pick up ventriloquy with how talented she was at expressing herself without her mouth moving. No one was going to read lips in the royal box. Besides mine, that is. I have no such talent nor will to keep my sentints unknown.
My eyes turned back to the match. Sir Gavin righted himself after retrieving Princess Alina's favor. Lord Carrion graciously held out a hand to keep up the illusion that he was helping Gavin back to a proper stance.
To most of the crowd, Lord Carrion simply fumbled the favor and in the confusion to pick it up, accidentally struck his opponent. Unfortunate timing and circumstance artfully crafted for the crowd to play the fool.
The arena did not see the rivers of scarring down Sir Gavin's back that I saw yesterday. Lucky them. But I know who else did see it, and he was taking Alina's favor back out of the hand of his opponent.
All of my being wished that Gavin would keep the favor. Lord Carrion might wish to play the sa trick again, even though this ti it would look highly suspect. If he did not have a favor to drop, Sir Gavin could not retrieve it leaving his back exposed again.
I am not Sir Gavin's best friend. In fact, I find his compulsion to strive for perfection a bit obnoxious. However anyone that uses soone's virtues to try and cut them down is utterly deplorable.
Anyone who has ever breathed the sa air as Sir Gavin knows he would save a handkerchief from being run over in the street by a runaway horse if it ant helping honor the royal family. If I could help it, I would not allow his kindness to be his undoing.
Sir Gavin looked unsteady on his feet as he took a few steps to distance himself from Lord Carrion. Carrion, for his part, closed the gap as quickly as it was made, thrusting his sword forward to try and capture a few easy points with the judges.
Sir Gavin groaned as he began his own offensive volley. Strikes were sowhat haphazard from his usual clean hits. Most hits fell easily to Lord Carrion's defense.
In a rather unorthodox repositioning of his sword, an uppercut swing caught Carrion off guard. This gave Gavin a chance to breathe and regain a better stance.
On his downward follow through, the tides seed to change. Gavin's blade making contact with Carrion's chest plate, surprised both fighters. Both stepped backward.
Lord Carrion's next motions seed filled with the hasty rage of a boy trying to prove his ttle. Gavin on the other hand seed to plant himself firmly. The ground beneath his feet would be defended with his dying breath.
Both fighting styles seed to be so telling of the sword wielders. If ever there is a man that needs to prove his intentions, I should give him a sword and a humble opponent. No better way to see a man's true nature exists.
Although Carrion landed a few more hits throughout the match, Gavin kept his back protected. The young falcon made his stand valiantly, even if he switched his sword between palms tending to favor his nondominant hand to better guard his hurt shoulder.
A desire to fight Benate with our nondominant hands surged through . I had not a clue who might win such a match. My mind wandered to a happy imagining for a mont before being brought back to the present by another yelp.
The unproven Swordsman began an onslaught of swift swings toward Sir Gavin's injured shoulder, making Gavin defend in ways that could not be pleasant. I hoped that the substance that dripped from Gavin's armor was sweat and not blood.
A rciful horn proclaid the end of the match. Lord Carrion removed his helt. A sowhat smug expression replaced his usually taciturn one. Sir Gavin sheathed his sword and began stiffly removing his helt with one hand.
His brow was sweaty and he removed his own favor from Princess Alina to dab at his puddled hairline. It gave hope that the doctor might not be restitching his wound yet again.
"Lord Holden! Explain yourself quickly," Queen Valerie demanded behind clenched teeth.
Oh, yes. My outburst.
"I was present yesterday when Lord Carrion delivered Sergeant Agnar to the dical tent. I believe that Lord Carrion saw the doctor tending to Sir Gavin's shoulder that is still healing from his arrow wound he incurred at the parade for Princess Alina and, at the ti, Sir Jacobson." I rattled off.
"Lord Garrison, are you allowing your son to compete injured?" The Queen's fire directed at soone else gave a mont to slow my racing heart.
"Neither the doctor nor my son gave any indication that Sir Gavin was not fit for duty. If I knew he was not in top shape, I would have selected a different champion. My son knows this and perhaps this is why I am just learning of it."Lord Garrison fud.
If Queen Valerie spit fire, Lord Garrison was an inferno. I would hate to be Sir Gavin right now.
"If needed I can challenge the integrity of the match since my clan is not involved." I offered.
"Let's not jump to conclusions quite yet. Can the doctor confirm that Lord Carrion was in the tent when Sir Gavin was being treated?" Queen Valerie shifted into an analytical tone.
My heart sank as I knew the answer might stop justice.
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