Haven: A Trial of Blood and Steel Book Four by Joel Shepherd Page A

sideways. Sasha got a knee into him, and a fistful of belt, but he was too strong and lithe, and grabbed her into a bear hug from which she could not escape.
    “Victory!” Myklas yelled. “Victory for Lenayin!” Cheers and laughter came from the shore.
    “I'm Lenayin too, you idiot!” she snarled at him, struggling vainly.
    “We Lenays should fight each other more often!” Myklas laughed. “No matter the outcome, a Lenay always wins!”
    “And one always loses,” Sasha muttered, ceasing her struggles. Myklas picked her up and dumped her in the shallows. He was wise enough to escape quickly to avoid further retaliation, and walked up the lakeside with arms raised to the cheers of watching men.
    Sasha picked herself up from the water. “Sparring tonight!” she demanded of him. “No pads!”
    Myklas turned to give her a reproachful look. Lenays always wore pads when sparring, not from cowardice, but because sword practice, even with wooden stanches, was not something done with restraint. Without pads, one of them would get seriously hurt. All present knew it was not likely to be her.
    “Sister, truly, there is no need for violence.”
    “Perish the day when a Lenay should say such a thing,” Sasha retorted, to more cheers from the observers. Myklas laughed. He bowed to her, and walked off. He knew her temper, and knew not to take such threats seriously…when directed at him , at least.
    Sasha sighed in disbelief and shook water from her hair like a dog. Her heart thumped hard from exertion, and the pleasure of a hard yet harmless contest. For the first time in a long time, she felt nearly…good. She smiled. Annoying, naive brat though he was, he knew how to cheer up his sister.
    Behind Myklas, a line of Hadryn cavalry looked on. They seemed neither as impressed nor amused as she.
    Sasha recovered her unnerved horse from the Isfayen man who held him and checked the animal for any sign of strain. As she did so, she noticed a new commotion on the shore, a rider in Bacosh colours dismounting amidst the royal party.
    Sasha handed off her horse once more, reclaimed her sword, and splashed dripping from the lake—luckily the sun was bright and the sky clear, and in another hour she would be dry. Isfayen men gave her bemused looks as she passed, perhaps intrigued to see that the great Synnich-ahn was, after all, just a girl whose brothers treated her as poorly as any other.
    She arrived at the conversation with the messenger, sword and bandoleer hitched over a soaked shoulder, and edged through the small crowd. Koenyg and Damon stood at the gathering's centre, talking to the Bacosh man.
    “What's going on?” she asked shortly, with no qualms about interrupting the conversation. The messenger looked at her warily, eyeing sodden clothes and bedraggled hair.
    “The Regent sends Sofy to Tracato,” said Koenyg, less annoyed with her interruption than he might have been. “He offers for you to go with her, as a guardian.” Sasha just looked at him. Koenyg waited until he realised he wasn't going to get a response. “I had thought to agree.”
    Sasha waved the messenger away. He looked affronted. Sasha stared at him, and adjusted the bandoleer on her shoulder. Koenyg scratched his forehead, and indicated the messenger to leave. Sasha considered waving the others away also, but they were Lenay great lords and officers, and would hear of this discussion anyhow. One could not just dismiss such men in Lenayin.
    “No,” Sasha said to Koenyg. “I won't go.”
    “I would like Sofy to have a protector,” Koenyg replied, his gaze hard. “Wouldn't you?”
    “Brother, if that nest of scorpions wishes Sofy or me or both of us dead, there is little we could do…unless you spare me twenty guards and an entire personal staff.”
    Koenyg frowned. “You think Sofy's life at risk from her own people?”
    “ We are her people,” Sasha said firmly. “Her married family are not. The Army of the Bacosh is confident now they've