Senta looked away. His broken nose was sending shafts of pain behind his eyes and he felt sick. In his four years in the arena he had not felt pain like this. Minor cuts, and once a twisted ankle, were all the swordsman had suffered. But then those fights had been governed by rules. With a man like Waylander there were no rules. Only survival.
Despite his pain Senta felt relieved. He had no doubt that he would have killed the older man in a duel, though if he had, there would still have been Angel to face. And it would have saddened him to slay the old gladiator. But, more than that, it would have wrecked any chance with Miriel.
Miriel. . .
His first sight of her had shocked him, and he still didn’t know why. The noblewoman, Gilaray, had a more beautiful face. Nexiar was infinitely more shapely. Suri’s golden hair and flashing eyes were far more provocative. Yet there was something about this mountain girl that had fired his senses. But what?
And why marriage? He could hardly believe he’d made the offer. How would she take to life in the city? He focused on her once more, picturing her in a gown of silver satin, pearls laced through her dark hair. And chuckled.
‘What is amusing you?’ asked Angel, strolling to where he sat.
‘I was thinking of Miriel at the Lord Protector’s Ball, in a flowing dress and with her knives strapped to her forearms.’
‘She’s too good for the likes of you, Senta. Far too good.’
132
‘That’s a matter of opinion. Would you sooner see her standing behind a plough, old before her time, her breasts flat, like two hanged men?’
‘No,’ admitted Angel, ‘but I’d like to see her with a man who loved her. She’s not like Nexiar, or any of the others. She’s like a colt – fast, sleek, unbroken.’
Senta nodded. ‘I think you are right.’ He glanced up at the gladiator. ‘How very perceptive of you, my friend. You do surprise me.’
‘I surprise myself sometimes. Like asking Waylander not to kill you. I’m regretting it already.’
‘No, you’re not,’ said Senta, with an easy smile.
Angel grunted a short obscenity and sat beside the swordsman. ‘Why did you have to talk of marriage?’
‘You think I’d have been better advised to suggest rutting with her under a bush?’
‘It would have been more honest.’
‘I don’t think it would,’ said Senta softly. He became aware of Angel staring at him and felt himself blushing.
‘Well, well,’ said Angel. ‘That I should live to see the great Senta smitten. What would they say in Drenan?’
Senta grinned. They’d say nothing. The entire city would be swept away under an ocean of tears.’
‘I thought you were going to marry Nexiar. Or was it Suri?’
‘Beautiful girls,’ agreed Senta.
‘Nexiar would have killed you. She damn near did for me.’
‘I heard the two of you were close once. Is it true that she was so repulsed by your ugliness that, when in bed, she insisted you wore your helmet?’
Angel laughed. ‘Close. She had a velvet mask made for me.’
‘Ah, but I like you, Angel. Always did. Why did you ask him to spare me?’
‘Why didn’t you kill him when he approached you?’ countered Angel.
Senta shrugged. ‘My great-grandfather was a congenital idiot. My father was convinced I took after him. I think he was right.’
133
‘Answer the question, damn you!’
‘He had no weapon in his hand. I have never killed an unarmed man. It’s not in me. Does that satisfy you?’
‘Aye, it does,’ admitted Angel. His head came up, nostrils flaring. Without a word he strode back to the cabin, emerging moments later with his sword strapped to his waist. The sound of walking horses came to Senta and he loosened his sabres in their scabbards, but remained where he was at the well. Belash came into sight, stepping from the cabin doorway, knife in his right hand, whetstone in his left. Waylander said something to Miriel, and she vanished into the cabin, then the black-garbed warrior lifted his double crossbow from the hook on his belt, swiftly drawing back the strings and notching two bolts into place.