CHAPTER 108: LAST STAND

"Oh sweet Lord," Brown cried, gripping his chest as if he were about to pass out, but Percy was quick to hold him up.

Kali didn’t know she was going to agree with the man, but she found herself nodding.

"Nikolai won’t leave without his daughter-in-law, and you? You won’t let her go. What shall we do?" the man asked out of frustration.

Nikolai balled his fist in anger. He wanted to knock Brown out and go ahead with his plan, but it wasn’t going to be that easy. He didn’t like that a conversation was being had when he could kill Rhane and Jenna with just an order.

Rhane noticed the restlessness on his father’s face. Something wasn’t working as he had planned, and it showed.

"What if..."

Everyone searched around for where the voice was coming from.

Kali stepped forward, her arms folded on her blood-stained shirt. "The Lady left her husband for the crimes he’d done. Should he not be punished too?"

"I will not be punished for being a man!" Gerald stomped his feet in argument.

Ignoring him, Kali continued. "If two men want a single woman, what is done?"

Whispering and hushed sounds were heard among some of the councilmen. Then a woman raised her hand.

"Between two families, a tournament can be hosted. Anyone who wins will have the Lady."

Kali raised her hands in victory. "Best sharpen your blades, lords— there’s a tournament to plan." She dipped into a crooked bow, more tavern curtsy than courtly grace.

Gerald’s face turned red. "A tournament? Do not let this farce deceive you. Will you place the fate of noble blood in the hands of a street rogue’s tongue? She reeks of filth and treachery!" He pointed at Kali with a trembling finger.

Kali snarled, the corner of her lips curled."Better filth than rot, my lord at least filth washes off."

"I will not fight with Rhane for Jenna! Never." Gerald resumed, almost barking.

Kali only smirked, tilting her head as though his fury were a song she enjoyed. "Strange words for a brave man, your tongue shakes worse than a rat in a trap

Murmurs rose among the council, but before Gerald could spit further, a councilman raised a genuine concern.

"What about the bloodshed this night? These men that have died... who should be blamed for it?"

Gerald pointed at Rhane. "Him, of course! Don’t tell me you’re willing to host a tournament."

The council members glanced at each other. "Well—"

"You spilled the lives of my men too," Rhane’s voice cut through with a menace tinge to it. "Across these floors, you dragged your blades into my hall. If you would accuse me of violence, then let us speak also of yours. Your theft of grain, your hoarding of taxes, your greed fattening while your people starve." Rhane’s gaze swept the men, and they shifted in their positions, as though he had torn the cloaks from their shoulders.

"Shall I present those records before the king? Or would you rather this hall keep quiet?"

The whispers broke into uneasy silence. Eyes darted among the council. No one wished to hear their sins dragged out, not when the ink on papers was enough proof.

Brown clutched at Percy’s sleeve, his voice shaking. "Enough! Let there be peace! If blood has already run this night, shall we spill more? The girl’s fate will be settled cleanly. A tournament, yes. Let the strength of men, not daggers, decide the Lady’s fate." He glanced at Nikolai and Gerald.

"Let it end the quarrel once and for all."

Gerald grabbed Brown’s hand. "You would agree with this madness? Have you forgotten who she belongs to?"

Brown lifted his hand with a tired sigh. "I have not forgotten. But I have seen enough men die in this hall. If the council chooses the tournament, then so be it."

Much to everyone’s surprise, Nikolai’s voice slid in next, smooth as a serpent’s tongue. "A wise suggestion." His eyes flicked to Rhane with sly delight. "A contest before kings and men cannot be disputed. Let strength decide. Let skill claim her. We will not mar the council’s name any further." His smile did not reach his eyes as he glanced at Rhane.

Gerald’s mouth hung open. "You as well? You’d stand by this insult? Have you both lost your wits? She is my wife!"

"She was," Jenna’s voice rang clear, steady as weathered storm. Her eyes gleamed with hope. "And I would see myself given properly, before all, to the one who claims me. Let it be so. At least now, my heart will not be dismissed as folly."

"Very well, if both families agree, then a tournament can be done," the woman who had spoken earlier remarked.

Jenna’s chest heaved. She loved the idea of a tournament. There was no way on earth Gerald would win against Rhane. And also, she would follow Rhane in a proper manner without having to fear for his life.

The morning sun was beginning to rise, casting its shadow on the clouds, turning them into beautiful hues of orange and grey. Meeting Rhane’s gaze, Jenna felt her fight had not been in vain. The night’s bloodshed was not for nothing.

"This is nonsense!" Gerald cried. "Have you all lost your reason. A useless rogue makes sport of us, and you—"

"Enough!" Brown snapped, surprising himself with the force in his voice. "You have spoken, the council has spoken, and the matter is settled."

An older councilman stepped forward, his robes heavy with dust and age. "Then it shall be declared. On the fourth night hence, a tournament shall be held. Until then, neither man shall approach the Lady, nor meet her in secret. She will remain under the protection of the council until the contest is done."

Rhane held Jenna closer. As much as the plan moved in their favor, he didn’t want to let Jenna go, not for a second.

Feeling the unease in his grip, Jenna rubbed her thumb on Rhane’s hand, trying to soothe him.

"Take me rightly," she whispered, only for his hearing.

"And," Nikolai added smoothly, tilting his head, "to ensure no tricks are played, all contenders will remain within Brown’s manor until the day arrives. Let the people see their conduct. Let no shadow hide their schemes."

The council nodded, weary and resigned. One by one, weapons lowered. Steel kissed the soil. A cock crowed in the distance, announcing morning.

Jenna exhaled, relief softening her face. For the first time that night, she felt hope steady in her chest. With the tournament, Rhane could claim her not as a fugitive lover, but as his rightful bride. He would not just have her, he would have a name to bind it with.

Nikolai turned, his cloak brushing the blood-stained ground as he walked toward the estate gates. A cruel grin curled his lips. "Prepare well, son," he murmured under his breath. "The tournament will be your funeral."