Laures
Laures turned his steed and dug his heels in so the horse was at a gallop.
When he did, he saw Maddie—what they now called Ilsa instead of “madam” so they didn’t have to address her formally nor call her by her twin’s name. Her skirts were lifted in one hand, her parasol in the other bobbing over her head, her feet taking her across the arena toward him, her glorious hair streaming out behind her.
At the sight, he forgot the pain the blows he took from his competitor’s blunt sword caused and he grinned.
She came to a teetering halt beside him as he pulled up his reins and she lifted her free hand high, palm facing him, while crying, “You won!”
He had.
How he got entered in the games they’d happened on, he didn’t know. Then again, as they rode over Fleuridia, they’d stayed for a fayre in Aisles they were not scheduled to attend. And also, after they crossed into Hawkvale, they’d been roped into attending a sheep shearing festival in Drinton upon which they had no time to waste. But they did.
“Don’t leave me hanging!” she exclaimed.
“Pardon?” he asked.
She shook her hand in the air. “High five!”
He stared down at her having no idea what she was on about.
She dropped her parasol unheeded to the ground, reached out, grabbed his gloved hand from his thigh and moved it to smack it against her hand.
“High five,” she declared. She moved her hand low, palm facing up and slapped his hand against it again. “Low five.” She turned her hand sideways, slapped his hand against it one more time and stated, “To the side.” Lastly, she curled her hand around his, the juncture of her thumb connected to his, her fingers curled around and she pumped their hands back and forth, saying excitedly, “You the man!”
It was one of her world things, of which they’d been learning many, some of them amusing, all of them fantastical.
He grinned at her again.
“You won!” Alek yelled, and Laures looked up, still holding Maddie’s hand, to see all the men had gathered around. “That means you’ll have to enter the arena tomorrow for the championship!”
He would indeed.
“I’ll send Apollo a missive and tell him we’ll be at least another week,” Hans muttered, breaking off from the huddle and striding away.
Laures looked from Hans to Maddie and bent deep. He let go of her hand but wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her on his horse before him.
“Fancy a victory lap, sweets?” he asked.
She’d turned her head and he watched her eyes light as she nodded happily.
He bent deep into her, dug his heels in his horse’s flanks and took off.
When he did, the peel of Maddie’s laughter rang through the arena, and as it did, it warmed Laures’ heart.
Then again, anytime Maddie laughed, it warmed his heart.
* * * * *
Achilles
“So, as you can guess from the end of the story, it wasn’t all that great, living in my world,” Maddie murmured her understatement, her eyes on the ground, her fingers tugging at blades of grass and distractedly tossing them away.
She was lying on the soft turf on her side but up on an elbow, head in her hand, legs curled around, the toes of blue satin slippers peeking out from beneath her lavender skirts. The detritus of their luncheon was spread across the blanket some feet away from their trio.
Derrik sat on his arse across from her, legs bent at the knees, weight back on his hands behind him.
Achilles sat with his back against a tree trunk, one knee up. He’d laid his wrist on his knee, hand dangling. His other leg was stretched out.