"So, how rich are you?" asked Demelza.
At training the next morning, my sisters weren't nearly as shocked as I had been last night; in fact, none of my family were. They congratulated Zephyr and affirmed there was nothing wrong with accepting money for his talent.
"I have no idea. But... 'Earl' rich, maybe?" I asked, wondering how much money nobility truly held. I took aim and...
(TWACK)
"FINALLY! But seriously, I have no idea. Twenty thousand gold is hard to even imagine."
We were rich. That's all I needed to know—more coin than we could possibly spend. After a great night, both physically and mentally, I was in a fantastic mood.
The men were already hard at work on the two large buildings, each designed to hold fifty compact, one-bedroom homes for small or growing families.
"I bet the entire village is buzzing about yesterday. I can't wait to enter the tournament—two events, at least," Demelza said, taking her own shots and starting to hit the target with consistency.
"What's the other one?" I asked, knowing archery was a given.
"I want to enter the cooking competition as well. I need to talk to Brother about adding a sweets-only category—I don't want to compete with Seline for the main title," she said, concentrating on her target.
(SWISH)
"Damn it! Three out of five." She stepped away, letting Eleanor take her turn. "I feel my arms getting stronger now."
"You look more confident, for sure." I checked her muscles through the warm, oversized sweater she'd borrowed from Alexander. "By the way, good thinking. Mother can be very competitive."
Eleanor, currently annoyed with her slow progress, wiped sweat from her brow. "By the way, shouldn't we invite the Monroe sisters?" she asked.
"You want to know your future?" I asked, surprised by her interest. I didn't want to know mine; Zephyr's warnings yesterday made me rethink the entire situation. Why pretend? I was scared to hear something bad, just like everyone else.
"No. Brother is right. Knowing what's coming is a slippery slope. I'd rather be surprised. I meant the knife throwers," she explained.
"We could invite them for lunch and take another look at those knives," offered Demelza.
The air was bitterly cold, so we finished our training early. With February well underway, spring felt agonizingly close.
"I can't believe how well they aimed yesterday." Inside, Demelza placed her bow and arrows inside the large wooden chest. "It was like seeing the Revel Twins, but with knives."
Inside, Alexander, who had just returned with a large, empty bag, sat down by the fire to warm up.
"They want people to volunteer to be living targets. I wouldn't do it even for gold. They're skilled, for sure, but still," he commented.
"Did you hand out the gold, darling?" Demelza asked, warming her husband while looking at the bag.
"I did. The people are already off to find and thank him personally. They'll have to wait," he answered.
I knew Zephyr had decided to head to Malai to ask about Catalina's missing husband. At least maybe she can find peace. It was an hour-long round trip, tops.
"I'm telling you guys, everyone's talking about the tournament and the prizes." Alex's eyes were as fired up as they were last night. "I can't wait to enter the one-on-ones and CAPTURE."
I bet most felt the same. It was a great opportunity to see which of them learned the most, knew each other the best, and who wanted victory more.
"What is your wish if you win?" asked Miranda, who was planning to enter the cooking competition with Mother.
What would the people ask for?
"...General," Alexander whispered.
We barely heard him, but Demelza's all-knowing smile preceded her explanation. "He wants the title of General. His grandfather used to tell him stories about them."
A soldier's dream through and through. But it was an easy fix.
"Why not just ask Ze—"
"It's not the same, Lylly." Surprisingly, Demelza cut me off. "He wants to earn it."
Her proud smile and her husband's embarrassed look were the perfect picture of marital harmony.
"Hmm, I wonder what Lucian would want if he wins," Eleanor asked no one in particular.
It's probably a less emasculating girlfriend. Hehe.
"Well, he has a chance. Zephyr sure thought of a lot of different competitions," I said.
Five different types of contests: strength, teamwork, and pure talent. I looked around.
"Where are the kids?" I asked.
"Lucian took them to training. Little Ciren is improving, and Anna is taking it easy," Miranda answered.
Hmm. She took her deal with Zephyr extremely seriously. She walked slower and trained less... I wonder.
"Maybe we can include something for the kids. Some sort of contest for prizes they would love?" I asked, suddenly having an epiphany. This felt like an idea only the best mothers would have.
"Perfect idea! We can talk to the troupe and the new residents. We'll have a lot more little ones running around," said Demelza.
Those around appreciated my genius, and Demelza was right; with all the new children, we could make the event fun for them as well. The door slammed open behind us.
"Morning, family! Any breakfast, Miranda dear?"
Nifa, wearing Zephyr's old clothes, came in, followed by a still-tired-looking Cintia.
"Hey. What a night," Cintia said, sitting down on an empty chair.
We told them about my plan for the children's competition.
"Nice! I can help organize it." Cintia was the perfect candidate since all the kids loved her, and her illusions came in handy for all situations. As far as entertainment went, she was the apex of the craft.
Nifa was happy but made her feelings perfectly clear. "Just don't expect me to color everything for free. It's already a crime how much of a discount I gave to everyone."
"Is that so?"
Zephyr arrived with perfect timing, as usual.
"I—I meant... for a reasonable price?" she asked timidly.
I ignored her latest misstep and asked him the important question. "So, what happened?"
He gave a grim expression. "Well, Eric Brennan isn't dead, but he's not much better off. His squad is held in Karta with a bunch of others they captured. He is a prisoner of war," he explained, sitting down himself.
Talk about mixed news. On the one hand, he was alive; on the other, he was a prisoner.
"Poor wretches. Even if he's not dead, he probably wishes it," Zephyr said, shaking his head. I could just tell he imagined himself in their place. "Karta is willing to make a trade of prisoners, except they want some of their long-captured nobles the King has most likely already killed. So, the proposal was rejected."
I sat in his lap, thinking. "Maybe we shouldn't tell the last part to Catalina?"
"I agree. In time, we'll see how the coming months unfold, and if I can do something... I will."
I gave him an encouraging kiss. "You always do."
"In any case. Now we just need to concentrate on building and allow the Monroe Company to entertain us," he said, his mood lightening.
Indeed. Now, we could just breathe and focus on what we could do: working and enjoying ourselves.