Page 30 of The Sun King's Noon

“There is also the element of speed,” Richard continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Four legs outmatch two, and Orric’s senses would clearly be heightened. You, meanwhile, arestrongest in close combat with blade in hand, but unless you are allowed to stab him when he leaps at your throat?—”

“I do not need to stab in order to defeat.”

“—logically, he would prevail,” Richard finished. “This is a simple, stark comparison.”

“Comparison?” A vein pulsed at Kaelen’s temple. “Then, perhaps, I would win if my king placed greater faith in me than in a wolf he met mere hours ago.”

“Orric is a druid, not a wolf,” Richard wagged a finger. “See that you address him with care. And faith does not conquer a beast whose bite would crush your vambrace?—”

“It does when the man inside the vambrace refuses to yield,” Kaelen shot back. “Battles are won by heart. A man or woman may be smaller and less fearsome to the eye, and yet triumph if they have cause enough to stand.”

“You speak as if you are in one of Briony’s storybooks.”

“I’m not saying skill and size count for nothing.” Kaelen shrugged off his father’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m saying that a man who goes into a fight convinced he is beaten has lost before the first blow lands.”

“And I,” Richard bit out, “am saying that a druid in wolf form in a tournament bout without lethal force is beyond you.”

Kaelen blanched. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Oh, by all the gods.” A headache stirred at Richard’s temples. “Must every statement cause some bruised feeling with you? I am only talking plain sense. A man who ignores the facts of the field in favour of noble feeling is a fool who gets himself killed.”

Kaelen’s nostrils flared. “Better that than having one’s king already decide defeat for him.”

Richard spluttered. “You are being absurd.”

“And you are being faithless!”

“Faithless? Because I do not believe you able to wrestle a wolf twice your size?”

“A druid,” Kaelen retorted. “Not a wolf. As you said before, my king, we must address him with care. “

Richard’s eye twitched. Stalking forward, he caught the rim of Kaelen’s visor and snapped it shut. The metal clanged down over Kaelen’s face, and he staggered back.

“Mmph!”

“There.” Richard folded his arms. “Keep it shut, for I am quite through with you and your glares.”

Corwin burst into laughter, cackling so hard that his knees buckled and he collapsed against a gawking Dain. From behind the visor came an indignant, muffled sound as Kaelen scrambled for the latch. He wrenched his visor up, face twisted in a heavy glower, and drew a sharp intake of breath?—

Richard did not wait to hear it. He turned on his heel and stalked towards the back gardens.

It would be a nice change to converse with more mature company.

CHAPTER 13

The back garden was beautifully lit by glowing orbs. They hung from branches, each emanating an amber light that pooled across the trees and dappled the winding trail.

Richard slowed his pace as his sister’s voice reached him.

“—if you tilt your chin just a smidge to the left, Lady Myrafrond, the light catches the ridges in your bark so wonderfully. Oh, please do hold still.”

Richard peered between two birch trunks. The dryads were gathered in a clearing of large moss-covered stones and rectangular flower beds. Most of the dryads surrounded Briony, who was perched on a boulder. As her charcoal darted across her sketchbook, her tongue poked from the corner of her mouth, and her curls framed her face.

Nearby, two dryads leaned over torn-off pages, fingers tracing over their own portraits. One held her drawing up to the lantern light and trilled in delight before pressing the page to her chest.

Myrafrond stood closest to Briony. Her crown of primroses threatened to fall as she bent over the girl’s sketchbook.

“You draw without pause, little one.”