“That farden bastard,” Tedra said at her side. “He’s using a razorsword.”

“So?”

“So it takes next to no strength at all to cut a man in half with a sword that sharp. The arrogant jerk can’t hope to disarm Falon, but he can ignore the rules and disable him with some serious wounds or worse-and we’ve already seen what he thinks of rules.”

Jorran’s first vicious swipe with the razors word gave credence to Tedra’s prediction. The High King was out for blood, and didn’t care if his opponent ended up dead as long as he saw victory.

Falon felt the blood trickling down his chest long before he felt the pain of his wounds. The pain was minimal, ignored. The blood was a nuisance, slowly depleting his strength. He did not think the wounds crisscrossing his upper torso were serious, despite the amount of blood he was losing, but he could not be sure, the wounds were so thin. And it had all happened in a matter of minutes.

Falon sucked in his middle even as he jumped back, but again he felt the tip of that sword, a weapon he had never seen the like of before, slice through his skin. It was too quick, never there to meet his own blade, flipping around him in a blur of movement that his heavier sword could not hope to match. It finally occurred to him that if he was going to defeat the High King by the rules, which meant disarming him rather than killing him, he would not be doing it with his own sword, not when Jorran kept his blade well away from it. The other man was not even trying to put up a pretense of this being a normal match, so why should he?

Reaching that decision, Falon threw down his sword and went after Jorran with his bare hands, using his steel armbands to deflect the razorsword, which was trying desperately now to keep him back. He sustained two more wounds before Jorran’s sword arm was knocked aside and Falon’s fist smashed into his face with a satisfying crunch.

The king went down and did not get up. His nose broken, one cheekbone smashed, he blacked out instantly. Falon did no more than kick the sword that had painted his torso crimson from the king’s now slack hand, then turned his back on him. Only then did he truly feel the weakness that was gaining on him rapidly. And only then did he look toward Shanelle, but she no longer stood near her mother. She was nowhere in sight, and his sight was starting to blur.

When the meditech opened, Falon was surprised to see Tedra Ly-San-Ter standing there waiting on him. Long black hair flowed about the white chauri she wore. A necklace of large crystals in the exact shade of her aquamarine eyes hung from her smooth neck. As the mother of two grown children, the woman really should look older than she did. That she did not, and was incredibly lovely besides, was just one more thing to annoy him about her. Of course, once she opened her mouth, her antagonism made him forget how beautiful she was.

“Feeling better?” she asked as he slowly sat up.

A glance down at his bare chest revealed that nothing remained to show that he had nearly bled to death. “It defies belief, what this machine can do.”

“You don’t sound very pleased about it. Your first time?” His curt nod prompted a laugh from her. “Well, don’t be surprised if you’re now missing some of your old badges of courage. Meditechs just hate scar tissue, no matter how old it is.”

It took him a moment to grasp her meaning. When he did, he glanced sharply at his shoulder, but the white line that had been there since he was a child was now gone. With a low growl he swung out of the meditech, thinking seriously about hacking it to pieces.

Tedra chuckled, not the least bit understanding. “Don’t take it so hard, warrior. Shani knows how brave you are. You don’t need scars to prove it.”

“Woman, you and your machines do not belong on this world.”

“You might have walked in here under your own steam-just barely-but a healer couldn’t have sewn you up fast enough to save your life. Some of those cuts were more than an inch deep. If your reflexes weren’t as quick as they are, there would be two of you right now-pieces.”

Falon’s expression turned disdainful. “From a puny visitor?”

“He wasn’t so puny, but with a razorsword, a child could have sliced you in half. You had no business taking him on. You should have known by his eagerness to face someone so much bigger than he was that he had to have an advantage that he figured would guarantee him the win.”

“For what reason do you rail at me for this when you have made your feelings for me perfectly clear?”

“I don’t dislike you personally, warrior, only the way you conduct yourself. In fact, I’ll probably be quite fond of you-someday. But I stood there and watched my daughter turn as white as this chauri, then puke her guts out, and that I don’t appreciate. And for what? You were already champion. You could have ignored that pompous jerk of a king.”

Falon grinned, interested in only one thing. “She feared for me?”

Tedra was disgusted enough to reply, “Not even a little. The sight of blood merely makes her sick. But you really enjoyed winning that last match, didn’t you, even more than all the rest?”

Her sarcasm turned him stiff. “It is no secret how I feel about visitors.”

“I was a visitor.”

“For the mother of my woman, I must make an exception.”

Tedra snorted. “Don’t do me any favors. And she’s not yours yet.”

“Then best I see to that now. Where is your lifemate?”

“He’s waiting for you, I don’t doubt. And we might as well get it over with, so come along. Besides, someone else is eager to use the meditech. A matter of a broken face.”

Falon’s expression showed his satisfaction on hearing that. “And Shanelle? Does she wait with her father?”

“You’re out of luck there, warrior. She was still so upset over witnessing such violence, I sent her home. But you’ll be pleased to know she wouldn’t leave until I assured her I would personally see to it that you got patched up.”

“I am surprised you would admit this to me.”

“Don’t faint on me, but here’s another one for you. I told her why you entered the competitions. You wanted her to know, and that was the least I could do.”

For some reason, the sound of that bothered him. The least she could do? Under what circumstances? But she had already turned away to lead the way out of the curtained-off area where the meditech had been temporarily moved for the competitions, so he said no more. The time was at hand for which he had waited so impatiently. He would have preferred that Shanelle be there so he could make her his immediately, yet she would be easy enough to find at the palace.

They entered the main section of the large pavilion to see a small crowd waiting: Falon’s family, Dalden, the nobles from Century III with their still unconscious king-who was carried straightaway to the meditech now that it was available-and, of course, the shodan of Sha-Ka-Ra.

For the first time, Falon began to feel slightly nervous. He had won the competitions, but according to Dalden, that did not assure him the prize. And Tedra Ly-San-Ter’s attitude-could she have convinced her lifemate to deny his request? Was that why her remark, about its being the least she could do, had the sound of guilt to it?

Jadell pounced on him to assure himself Falon was completely recovered; then the congratulations began. Challen produced wine with the comment, “I care nothing for the visitor’s machines of convenience, yet do they offer some things a warrior can find pleasure in.” And Tedra blushed because he was looking at her as he spoke, though he was uncorking the bottle of golden Mieda from the planet Rathus.

Falon took a glass, though he didn’t drink. But he could not demand a private word when Challen was also filling glasses for everyone there. Yet he looked pointedly at his brother, who took the hint and didn’t dawdle over his wine. Nor did the others, who were also aware of Falon’s impatience and his intentions, including Dalden.