drakensis
Well-known member
Star as the Substitute
Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream
Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream
Tougher than diamonds, rich like cream
Stronger and harder than a bad girl's dream
~ Huey Lewis
Chapter 3
Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance, of justice: injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged. ~ Samuel Johnson
The academy wasn’t quite so ridiculous as to have its own dedicated playhouse (although Leon had no doubt that somewhere in the student council’s archives there would be a proposal to build one, if the funds could be found), but the main hall used for meetings of the entire student body could be re-arranged to provide a venue for various entertainments, with rooms behind the main stage that could support preparations for either student productions or professional actors and musicians.
Today it was the former getting ready, with servants (academy staff, not the students’ contract servants) cleaning chairs and making other preparations for the audience. Behind the scenes, rehearsals had officially ended but some of the student council members who would be acting were still pacing the stage, trying to memorise their lines and the marks they would have to hit.
“So this is what it’s like back here,” Mylene Rafa Holfort realised in delight.
Way to give away that you’re a foreigner, Leon thought as he escorted the queen of Holfort and princess of Fanoss backstage. If you were really Angelica’s sister, you’d have been a student here and you’d have certainly been back here at least once. How dumb do you think I am?
Every daughter of every noble family in Holfort was required to attend the academy in the special class, unlike the sons who didn’t have to - although there were strong reasons they should, not least to meet those daughters. The policy had the two-fold advantage of forcing feudal lords to pay the academy fees, while also accustoming the girls to a lifestyle that would cost their parents and later husbands even more money.
Then again, Leon was enough of an idiot to get stuck in this situation just because he’d dropped a flirtatious remark into conversation with Mylene. And she’d never actually claimed to be Angelica’s sister, just not disabused him of his ‘mistake’. So maybe he was that stupid.
On the other hand, the envious looks he got from some of the other boys were absolutely worth it. Princess Hertrude was a rather pretty woman if you liked the slender type with hime-cut haircuts - and Queen Mylene was a bombshell, despite being old enough to be Leon’s mother. Seriously, he had no idea why Julius didn’t have a dozen siblings rather than just two half-siblings.
“I don’t see Lady Hunt,” he said out loud as he looked around. “But I see someone who should know where she is. Alan!”
The boy in question barely looked up from the piano, where he was scribbling adjustments to a musical score. “What do you want, Leon? I need to get this ready before Violette turns up for practice.”
“Someone’s looking for your fiancee, do you know where she is?”
“We’re not attached at the hip… have you tried costuming? I think they’re doing final fittings for some of the girls.”
“Thanks.”
Alan gave him a distracted wave, already busy erasing another charcoal-marked note on the score to replace it with another notation.
“Is that Prince Alan?” Mylene asked. “I’d heard he was… in ill-health?”
Hertrude smirked. “If that’s ill-health, I’d love to see the healthier version.”
They had a point, Leon mused. The student council wasn’t exactly short of good looking young men and women, but Alan was definitely the designated brooding bad-boy of the group. There had been an unusual rush of interest in music lessons this year, once some of the female students realised that Prince Alan would be enrolled for every class offered in the subject.
Costuming was further back from the stage, and Leon trod a little more carefully - aware that some of the students here might not consider themselves to be presentable. Finally he tapped gingerly on one door. “Excuse me? Visitor for Lady Hunt?”
There was rustling from inside and then a familiar voice answered: “I’ll be right out.”
True to the offer, it was only a minute or so before the door opened but Mary wasn’t the first brunette to exit. Katarina was first, trailed by Keith who was still trying to get his sister to wipe her face clean as the enthusiastic young woman waved to Leon and headed off chattering about the stalls she had yet to visit.
Mary followed a moment later, delicately wiping her own lips. Clearly she’d been snacking rather than actually getting fitted for anything. “Good afternoon, Leon?” she greeted him. “You said something about a… visitor?” Only the slight pause gave away that she recognised the taller woman accompanying him.
Mylene smiled somewhat coldly. “Yes, Lady Hunt. I understand that you were wagering on Lady Katarina Rafa Claes' duel a few months ago?”
Now how had she learned that? Mary having done well wasn’t impossible to guess, but she could have been betting on Leon not on Katarina.
“Yes, I wagered on all of Lady Angelica’s champions,” Mary admitted carefully. Which was to say that she’d bet against Mylene’s sons and all his friends.
The queen leaned forwards. “That’s somewhat concerning, as I also understand that you had a conversation with Lord Arclight, before he duelled Lady Claes. A conversation in which certain threats may have been made.”
“Ah, I did speak to him.” The girl kept her cool, mostly. “However, I was addressing concerns other than who would win his duel. I wasn’t making any attempt to influence the outcome.”
“Since you say that, I must accept it as true, Lady Hunt. But reputations are built… or destroyed… on perceptions. And if suspicions are circulating that you might have taken the opportunity to apply pressure to someone before taking advantage in the gambling halls…” Mylene shook her head. “You may be unaware of how damaging such a reputation can be.”
Hertrude covered her mouth, but this didn’t hide a smirk from Leon. “I hadn’t heard of this. My goodness, it could be quite an embarrassment if it were taken the wrong way!”
Mary very nearly shot the princess a nasty look but plastered a smile onto her face. “Fortunately, we all know that I would never risk causing Lady Katarina any shame by behaving improperly in any way that could reflect on her.”
“That’s my future sister-in-law,” a familiar voice declared. “Always looking out for her future sister-in-law.” Duke Jeffrey Rafa Stuart emerged from a dusty corridor. “You see, Ian? I told you that this would get us inside.”
“I never said that it wouldn’t,” the man behind him said flatly. “Just that it was not a good idea.” His white suit bore the evidence that the back-corridor used for access wasn’t being regularly cleaned. Leon made a mental note to mention it to Nicol.
Both the men had ladies on their arms: Jeffrey was, of course, escorting his wife; while Ian had a delicate looking lady with light brown hair at his own side.
“Duke Jeffrey.” Mylene turned to face the new arrival. “I rather thought that you might be on Stuart and miss this year’s festival.”
“I made a special trip to attend,” the duke declared proudly. “I couldn’t possibly miss my lovely youngest brothers’ first academy festival!”
“I don’t suppose you could.” Mylene exchanged a token embrace with Suzanna, and then with the other lady. “Selena, Ian. I hope your wedding preparations are going well.”
Leon caught Hertrude’s eye and nodded towards the duke. “That’s the healthier model,” he told her drily. Alan’s eldest brother looked much like him, with similar hair but brighter eyes to go with his more ebullient demeanour.
“Ah! Lord Bartford!” Jeffrey noticed them and smiled broadly. “Speaking of weddings, I see you captured two more beauties in your orbit! Which of them are you planning to wed? You could have a joint ceremony with my brother!”
Mylene blushed and Hertrude looked away, only her ears reddening in betrayal of embarrassment.
Selena gasped. “Oh my.”
Leon smiled roguishly and took the two ladies’ arms again. “It’s a tough decision,” he admitted. “On one arm,” he raised Hertrude’s slightly, “I have treason - and on the other,” (this time indicating Mylene) “High treason. Alas I may have to choose between losing my head or having my heart broken.”
The young man didn’t actually think Roland would give him the chop if Mylene strayed from the wedding bed with Leon - that would require the king to care about his queen at all - but it wouldn’t look good. And getting seduced by a foreign princess would be a deadly trap that could destroy his entire family. Treason was not a word he’d used lightly.
“I-I-I... “ Mylene stammered, giving Leon a startled look. “W-we can’t. I am married, Lord Bartford.”
He rested one hand over his heart. “And thus our romance can never be. Our honour must ever be at odds with our hearts.”
“Oh…” She shook her head, still flushed. “I-I’m flattered, but I am too old for you.”
“Lord Bartford,” Selena managed to say, her own face reddening. “Y-you’re talking to the queen and to a princess.”
“And you knew it,” Hertrude murmured in understanding, shooting Leon a disappointed look.
“I did, but that doesn’t mean Duke Jeffrey was wrong to say that you’re both beauties. Love cares not for mere politics,” he told her. “Isn’t that the example Prince Julius has set?”
“I-I-I…” Mylene sat down rather heavily on a trunk of costumes. “Lady Hunt,” she petitioned in a small voice. “Is there anywhere I can get a cup of tea? I was not prepared for this.”
-
Angelica’s sitting room was quiet after Leon repeated Clarice’s threats for her.
Gerald and Alan were both sitting on a couch, having been asked to join the duke’s daughter for advice. She seemed understandably hesitant about making a decision regarding the next day’s races, Leon thought. After all, her choice could lead to someone’s injury or death - and unlike the duels, she wasn’t making the decision in the heat of anger.
“Do you think she’s serious?” Alan asked him after a moment.
“She’s very angry,” Leon admitted. He looked over at Angelica. “I don’t mean to dismiss your own pains, Lady Redgrave, but I think Lady Atlee is taking the rejection worst out of all four fiancees affected by Lady Lafan’s concurrent affairs.” He paused. “Admittedly, I have no idea how Cassandra Olfrey felt about her own engagement being ended, but that’s another matter.”
The musician made a face. “Sophia’s not wrong to be frightened by her cousin.”
Gerald leant back in thought. “There aren’t many first years who can race well enough to compete with older and more experienced riders. Jilk’s already injured and Julius getting battered or worse would be a disaster.”
“I’m glad you agree.” Angelica folded her hands before her. “The next best riders we have would be the two of you. I don’t believe Lord Ascart would appreciate my asking either of you to participate though… even before we consider this threat.”
Alan nodded. He was leading the musicians for the play and Gerald was one of the actors. Having them worn out from a race would be bad; having them hospitalised would risk the cancellation of the much-anticipated play. There weren’t many available substitutes for Gerald’s role and no one else on the student council could come close to replacing Alan on the piano. “So withdraw the class?”
“Even that has its problems,” his twin mused. “Lady Redgrave would have the embarrassment of having yielded to a threat. I’m not really concerned about Marmoria’s reputation at this point, he trashed that thoroughly during his duel with you, Lord Bartford.”
Despite all his denials, Leon thought happily. “However,” he said seriously. “We’re not just looking at one race. Clarice won’t be satisfied with Jilk being further humiliated, she’ll go on from this and want to do more. If this doesn’t hurt him enough - and I believe nothing can hurt him enough to salve her heart, not even his death - then she’ll do something more.”
Angelica looked away. “And she’s willing to see others hurt in the doing. My reputation’s poor enough - but she’s also endangered other racers today and if she does the same tomorrow then whoever races might not be the only casualty.”
“Do you have any clever ideas?” Alan looked at Angelica, then his brother… and when neither of them met his eyes, he looked up at Leon. “I know you can’t race, Leon, but you get people’s feelings better than most of us.”
“That’s not quite true,” he admitted. It was best to be honest about that - it might come up again some day. “I can’t ride the school’s airbikes for lessons, but it’s the same as with knight-armours. I can use one if it’s set-up right for me, and I have one of my own.”
“Any good?” Gerald asked with a competitive look in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t suggest betting on me if I were to race tomorrow,” Leon admitted. “Not to win, anyway.” Maybe if Luxion was doing the actual piloting, calculating the most efficient flight path, but Leon didn’t have quite Jilk’s natural brilliance or half as much practice.
“I’d be more worried about people betting against your survival,” Alan told him. “Unless you think Clarice would pull punches because it was you out there.”
“Truthfully, I doubt she likes me as much as she hates Jilk. And she’s a woman of her word.” And even with Luxion altering its profile with reinforced armour plating, the airbike’s still the same one I used in Fanoss. But…
“Then you racing wouldn’t change anything.”
Leon shrugged. “Maybe not, Angelica. But at least we can see this one coming and it’s just possible we can convince her to end it here.”
“How?” asked Gerald.
Leon spread his hands. “I see two possibilities and they’re not mutually exclusive. How much do you know about how Jilk’s engagement was ended?”
“Count Atlee wrote to Viscount Marmoria, right?” asked Alan.
“Yes. Greg told Scarlet to her face. Julius at least spoke to you after the duels,” he continued, looking at Angelica. “Chris snubbed Violette to her face.”
“The bastard,” Alan muttered.
“My point is, however detestable their conduct, those three all at least faced their fiancees. Has Jilk ever directly spoken to Clarice about their engagement or his feelings?”
Gerald tilted his head. “Not that I know of… Angelica?”
The girl also considered it. “I don’t think so… not that I recall anyway. And it would be somewhat out of character for him. He always keeps his cards close to his chest.”
Leon nodded. “I told him in the medical room that if anyone raced on his behalf he would owe them. If we can get him to actually look her in the eye and tell her why he’s rejecting her, it might give her something else to focus on. Not to forgive him, but at least that she’s getting some sort of resolution out of him.”
“He’d have to be pushed,” Angelica admitted.
“That, I could do.” Gerald leaned forwards, “If we tell him that you were going out as an alternative to Julius then he’d have to. Whatever else he feels for you, Marmoria was raised around Julius and it’s been drummed into him since he was a child that he has to protect the prince. That’s a debt even he can’t refuse.”
“You’re serious about trying this?” asked Alan. “I mean, I’m not kidding, Leon. Word is already getting around. The bookies are offering odds on whether Jilk will be back, who might cover for him… and if he’ll survive if he does race tomorrow. If you’re out there, they’ll be betting on your life.”
“Are they?” Leon nodded in satisfaction. “Good. That’s ideal.”
“What do you mean?!” Angelica exclaimed. “I won’t approve of sending you out to get killed!”
Leon smiled. “And I don’t believe Clarice really wants anyone else to die. She’s blinded by her rage, but I’m betting that she’s not really considering what it would mean if her own friends or even innocent bystanders got hurt.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying rub her face in that. Make sure she knows about all those bets. In fact, play it up. Set people around her chattering about bets not just on whether I’ll die, but how many people will die in the race. Or whatever else you can think of, the more bloody the better. And leave her wondering what she’s unleashed on everyone around her. If her revenge is really worth sending her people to their deaths?”
Angelica paled. “That… that could work, Leon. Clarice’s followers are so loyal because she’s always cared for them closely. More closely than I ever did, really. But talk alone won’t be enough. She’ll have to see it in front of her, are you saying you’ll…?”
“My airbike is armoured for war,” Leon told her flatly. “I won’t win the race on it, but I have a pretty good chance of finishing it. And anyone who tries to ram me will be biting off more than they can chew. I’m not planning to kill anyone, but if her friends come after me then a lot of them won’t reach the endline.”
“That’s playing with fire,” Alan warned. “You can’t be sure you won’t kill someone.”
“I know.” Leon agreed. “We can play this safe this time… but I have no idea what Clarice might do next. And that scares me. I’m sorry to put this onto you, Angelica, but in the end it’s your decision. Do we try to finish this now? Or take our chances on whatever her next plan is?”
-
Leon’s airbike had been repainted after Luxion had been done with his modifications. The previous dull blue that had blended into the night sky was now a rich crimson. He ran one hand along it. “Do red ones go faster, Luxion?”
“No, master. Your top speed will be at least five percent less than that of the slowest racer in yesterday’s race,” the AI reported grumpily. “This much protection comes at a cost.”
“I figured as much.” He tapped the hull of the airbike, which seemed suitably sturdy. “It’s streamlined, at least.” And visibly bulkier than the airbikes around him as the racers formed up to begin.
“It’s not too late to quit,” one of the racers warned Leon, moving his own airbike up next to the dark-haired youth and blocking another boy.
Leon recognised him from the day before as one of the students who’d been with Clarice when visiting Jilk. “It isn’t, but I’m not going to.”
“Our lady has nothing against you, Bartford.”
“So what you’re saying is, I might have a chance?”
The older boy shook his head. “She repeated her orders when she heard you were going to replace Marmoria today. He doesn’t get to hide behind anyone without consequence. You know that you getting hurt taking his place will make him look even worse. You in particular, I mean.”
“Because of what he said in the duel.”
“Exactly. You’re not doing him a favour.”
Leon pulled his helmet on. It was another Luxion special - it might look like those of the other riders, but this wouldn’t crack no matter what they did. Which wouldn’t necessarily keep him from a concussion or snapping his fool neck, but it was a start. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re not doing Lady Atlee a favour enabling her like this.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The other boy straddled his own airbike and reached for his own helmet, eyes distant. “She poured her heart into trying to be perfect for him, and he treated her like dirt. He didn’t even have the guts to tell her he didn’t return her feelings!”
“I figured that much.” Finished with the chinstrap, Leon mounted up. “But she still hasn’t let go. And that’s hurting her even worse. I’m not saying it isn’t his fault, but she’s still chasing after his attention. In that respect, nothing has changed.”
Flags went up and two dozen racers began to rev their airbikes’ engines. It became almost impossible to hear each other, but Clarice’s friend gave one last warning: “You’ve never raced before, I hear? This is going to be one hell of a first race for you. Good luck.”
Leon gripped the handlebars and made sure his legs were inside the subtly curved fairings that would protect them from the wind and from side-swipes - as long as they didn’t come from above him. “Same to you.” He wasn’t sure his neighbour heard him though.
And then the flags came down and every rider opened their throttles and released their brakes. The airbike beneath Leon bolted forwards furiously. It was all he could do to keep it straight as it gained altitude and speed. And his bike had a power to weight ratio that fell far short of the others.
By the time he had his head in the race and was reaching the first curve, Leon was near the back of the pack. He might have been at the very back, if it wasn’t for a couple of riders that were pretty deliberately holding back to stay level with him.
“Come on, Bartford,” one of them called over the rush of the wind. “We’ll make it easy for you.”
“Very sporting,” he agreed as the two of them flanked him, obviously planning to pincer him between the pair of them.
Leon waited until they were close and then yanked his bike hard to the right, smashing its tail against the forward steering of the airbike on that side. Metal crushed under the impact and the other bike got the worst of it, although it didn’t do Leon’s paint job any favours.
“You prick!” the rider cried out, trying to compensate for the damage.
“Like you wouldn’t do it to me!” Leon shouted and barged further across, forcing the other rider to veer further off course to avoid him. The other airbike slowed and dropped, but Leon kicked the nose of his airbike up and the tail down right as he was above the front of the other rider.
“Oh shi-!”
There was no crunch, but the airbike vanished from sight and after the next turn, Leon was able to glance sideways and saw that it had landed, the clearly shaken rider having rolled off it to sit next to it.
“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” the victim’s partner snarled and opened his throttle to come up side by side with Leon. He waited for the next corner before pulling up a little further and swinging over to catch Leon’s side with the edge of his airbike.
Leon rolled his airbike up, shielding himself with the faring. The two airbikes smashed into each other and bounced away again. The younger boy’s heavier bike absorbed the hit but the attacker’s shed parts of its own underside. Nothing critical.
“Bastard!”
“Go soak your head!”
The stands were ahead of them again as they came towards the end of their first lap. Leon deliberately pulled up to fly level with the lounge windows, from which Clarice would see them. He hunched over, watching the small screen inside his helmet that gave him a rear view.
Slowed by the collision, the other rider used his airbike’s greater power to surge up, trying to overtake Leon in the side of the stands.
“Take the loss!” the boy shouted and reached out, snagging hold of Leon’s elbow as he raced past.
With his rear view, Leon had just enough time to react. He twisted his leg out of the airbike’s protective faring and kicked out.
The other rider’s grip wasn’t good enough to tear Leon from his seat before the booted foot smashed into his hip. He had no choice but to release his hold as he was hurled from his own saddle. Leon rode on, seeing the boy crash into the magical barrier over the stands below him.
Between his own magical reinforcement and the fact that the barrier was intended to absorb impacts gradually to make any collision survivable, the other rider should be okay.
The abandoned airbike flipped several times in the air and came down hard just beyond the stands. Smoke rose from what was probably some rather expensive wreckage.
Leon was able to catch his breath as he pushed into the second lap. No one was particularly near him, the main pack of the racer had left him behind. The airbike had come through the encounters fairly well and while he wasn’t as fast as the other racers, that just meant that he could probably avoid contact with most of them.
“Master, why are you slowing down?” Luxion queried.
“It’s called the lame duck,” Leon told the AI as he practically idled the airbike. He was still moving fast, but it would be entirely believable that the airbike might be flying less well than it had at the start of the race - he’d had a collision and another very nasty encounter. Bleeding off space, he kept one eye on the stands ahead and the other on the view behind him as the leaders in the race approached, coming up on the point where they’d lap him. “I’m not trying to win the race, remember?”
The airbikes rushed towards him and to their credit, most of the leaders made a point of avoiding him. Leon returned the favour and let them get past, but one black airbike marked by a green go-faster stripe fell in behind him and closed in to butt at the rear of his airbike.
“Our next volunteer,” Leon muttered, and cranked the airbike’s throttle open again, pulling ahead. Following the ancient wisdom that if you flee, someone will chase you, the other rider kept tailgating him, bumping him again and again.
Genuinely unable to go faster than his harasser, Leon let another couple of airbikes get past him; but when another decided to join in the fun, he had enough and slammed his airbrakes on right as the airbike tried for another bump. He didn’t shed enough speed to fall far behind but it was enough for the collision to be much harder than the other racer had expected.
The black and green airbike cartwheeled, flinging its rider off the back.
Seeing the other boy flailing as he tumbled past, Leon leant over and seized him, his own airbike heeling over as the weight dragged it to one side. Bleeding speed and altitude, Leon fought the forces trying to pull him into a roll, eventually getting low enough that he could drop the rider into an ornamental pond they were flying over.
Without the extra weight, his airbike stabilised and - arm aching from the strain - Leon flew back up into the race. The rest of the leaders had gone past during the excitement but now he was being lapped by the middle of the pack and the racers spread out, surrounding him.
“You should have quit while you were ahead,” Luxion warned.
“Hell, I’ve never been ahead this whole race.” Leon gritted his teeth and then there was no time to talk and little for talk as the riders closed in opportunistically. All he could do was twist and turn from one collision after another. His bike battered through where it struck the other airbikes but Leon himself was more fragile. An elbow hit the side of his helmet, snapping his head to one side.
A moment later a sideswipe caught his already pained left arm. It was just a glancing hit, but Leon flinched and showing weakness was only encouraging them.
“Alright,” he snarled. “Play it that way.”
Throwing the airbike aggressively back against the others, he streaked around past the stands once more, using his heavy airbike to hammer anyone who came close enough. It slowed him further, but they weren’t trying to get ahead of him, they were focused on knocking him out of the sky. Leon was barely aware of racers going past them as those not involved in the feud went around them.
A particularly savage collision rocked Leon but sent another airbike away trailing smoke, the rider heading for the ground as fast as he safely dared.
Standing up in the saddle, Leon smashed his foot down on the hand of another rider as they steered, sending the unlucky boy skidding away to collide with another of the pack. Both airbikes fell behind, locked together and unable to manoeuvre.
Another bike closed in from the right, and Leon recognised it as the same one ridden by the boy who’d tried to warn him off at the start of the race.
Through the older boy’s helmet, he saw an apologetic look, but then the boy swung his bike in, angling up to catch Leon above the faring.
Leon threw his leg up to avoid the collision, and as they crashed against each other, the already abused faring snapped and hung up on the side of his rival.
Heaving himself back upright, Leon switched his right hand from his own controls to the leftmost handlebar of the other airbike and smacked the other rider’s hand away. Taking hold of the throttle, he cut it back a notch, fine-tuning it against his own airbike so the two of them didn’t go into a spin with the mismatched engines.
“Are you nuts?” the other boy called, seizing Leon’s own right handlebar.
“You want to finish the race or not?”
“This is insane!” But the older student steadied the two bikes and leant with Leon as they steered the locked-together airbikes through the next turn. And through the visor, he saw that the boy was grinning.
Figures, no one would get into a race like this unless they were a bit of an adrenaline junkie, he thought.
No one else tried to crash against Leon - half of Clarice’s followers were out of the race and perhaps none of the others wanted to risk one of their own. The balky, unbalanced pair of airbikes were trouble enough to handle so that was probably for the best.
After an interminable struggle, the pair of them crossed the finish line. Behind everyone else, but the crowd roared for them anyway.
Landing the two airbikes, the two dismounted, looked at each other and then Leon started to laugh. It must have been contagious because his co-rider also laughed.
When that fit had left them, Leon looked around and saw that Clarice’s followers were surrounding them - those that had finished the race and those that hadn’t.
Some of them looked angry, others not so much. It didn’t exactly match up to those Leon had forced out of the race - although some of them looked as battered as he felt.
He looked around at them and then perched himself on the back of his airbike, trying not to look threatened. “I’m not going to ask if you think brawling right in front of half the students would be smart,” he told them. “I get that you’re devoted to Lady Atlee. But really, at this point what would that do for her?”
The lady herself arrived at that point, breathless (and chest heaving in a way Leon appreciated). She must have run down from the stands.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Half of you are hurt!”
“Lady Clarice.” The boy who’d ridden with Leon bowed his head to her. “You’ve done so much for us, if this makes you happy…”
She looked at him. Looked around, seeing the bruises and limps. Saw their pride and their loyalty.
Then she looked at Leon, and he saw shame in her eyes. “They’re worthy men,” he told them. “Worth more than Jilk. And if they believe in you this much, Clarice, maybe you can believe in their goddess of victory. Just a little?”
Clarice stared at him. “I don’t forgive him.”
“I don’t expect you to.” He pushed himself off the airbike and stood up again. “But I think I speak for everyone here, that we think you should forgive yourself. There’s someone you need to talk to. And maybe, just maybe, someone who’ll finally be willing to talk to you.”
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