smiled. “Thank you for standing up for us. You said you would
change things and I think today might be a start.”
“I just hope it is a good change, and that I didn’t ruin
anything. It was dumb of me to tackle him,” Darius admitted.
Darius knew that even though she did not like the fighting,
she was proud of Darius defending her. He wondered at times how such a strong
feeling had developed between him and Christine the past year. They came from
such different places in life.
Darius’s father and mother approached. Their clothes were
exquisite. His mother in a deep burgundy gown with gold jewelry, and his father
with his royal purple cape over a red shirt. He was sure his father would be so
proud of him. It was he who had taught Darius to shoot and had made him
practice for so many years.
His mother gave him a hug and took the cup into her hands to
study her son’s award. “You did well, Darius,” she smiled, “but next time . . .
a little less excitement?”
Darius knew that was her way of being proud that he won, but
not of the way he reacted to the situation. He didn’t blame her.
He gave her a hug and smiled. She was always there for him,
even when his father hadn’t been. She did not express concern about the time he
spent with Christine like his father did. His mother did not crave the
limelight like his father, and although she attended state functions with him,
she didn’t linger around with the other nobles’ wives very often.
Elizabeth stepped back as Darius’s father approached. Darius
was excited about how well he had performed and eager to hear from his father
He bounced on the balls of his feet and for the first time he realized he now
stood taller than his father and almost as broad. Richard stepped up to Darius.
His father’s trimmed beard gave his face a grave look.
Darius held out the medal for him. “Isn’t it grand? Aren’t
you proud . . .”
“I don't know what you were thinking out on the field,
Darius.” Richard’s blue-gray eyes flashed with anger. “You almost lost the
competition for that kind of behavior. As you shot that last arrow the judges
were deciding whether to disqualify you. You were lucky you . . .”
“Didn't you hear what Sean San Ghant said?” interrupted
Darius, not ready for such treatment. “He insulted my friends. No, he did more
than that; he smears the good name of the Realm with how he treats others.”
“I don't care what he said. You are a noble’s son, Darius
San Williams. The son of a councilor. You are lucky I was here for you. I had
to do a lot of talking to the King to keep you from being disqualified. He
thought it might be good for you to lose. Teach you a lesson.”
“Well if that's all you care about, looking good to your
King, you take the medal. You won it for me.” Darius resented his father’s
one-sidedness. The nobility had lost touch with the people and only looked out
for themselves. That is not what he wanted. He wanted to feel proud as a
citizen of the Realm. He wanted to fight to defend something that meant more
than all of them. The power surged at his anger again. This time he didn’t hold
it back.
He ripped the medal from his neck and threw it towards him.
“You don't care about how I feel or why I do what I do. You don’t see the
injustices going on right in front of you. None of you do. Take the medal
yourself. Go show it to your nobles and congratulate yourselves for being so
mighty and just. Congratulations, you won the worst father award!”
It was one of those statements that as soon as Darius voiced
the words he wished he could take it back. It wasn't that he didn't think it
was true at the time, but he knew he shouldn't have said something so hurtful.
It was the power raging inside him that seemed to do the talking. It did stop
his father though, and Darius walked away without any more interaction.
Before turning outside of the field arena area, Darius
turned his head halfway around and saw his
change things and I think today might be a start.”
“I just hope it is a good change, and that I didn’t ruin
anything. It was dumb of me to tackle him,” Darius admitted.
Darius knew that even though she did not like the fighting,
she was proud of Darius defending her. He wondered at times how such a strong
feeling had developed between him and Christine the past year. They came from
such different places in life.
Darius’s father and mother approached. Their clothes were
exquisite. His mother in a deep burgundy gown with gold jewelry, and his father
with his royal purple cape over a red shirt. He was sure his father would be so
proud of him. It was he who had taught Darius to shoot and had made him
practice for so many years.
His mother gave him a hug and took the cup into her hands to
study her son’s award. “You did well, Darius,” she smiled, “but next time . . .
a little less excitement?”
Darius knew that was her way of being proud that he won, but
not of the way he reacted to the situation. He didn’t blame her.
He gave her a hug and smiled. She was always there for him,
even when his father hadn’t been. She did not express concern about the time he
spent with Christine like his father did. His mother did not crave the
limelight like his father, and although she attended state functions with him,
she didn’t linger around with the other nobles’ wives very often.
Elizabeth stepped back as Darius’s father approached. Darius
was excited about how well he had performed and eager to hear from his father
He bounced on the balls of his feet and for the first time he realized he now
stood taller than his father and almost as broad. Richard stepped up to Darius.
His father’s trimmed beard gave his face a grave look.
Darius held out the medal for him. “Isn’t it grand? Aren’t
you proud . . .”
“I don't know what you were thinking out on the field,
Darius.” Richard’s blue-gray eyes flashed with anger. “You almost lost the
competition for that kind of behavior. As you shot that last arrow the judges
were deciding whether to disqualify you. You were lucky you . . .”
“Didn't you hear what Sean San Ghant said?” interrupted
Darius, not ready for such treatment. “He insulted my friends. No, he did more
than that; he smears the good name of the Realm with how he treats others.”
“I don't care what he said. You are a noble’s son, Darius
San Williams. The son of a councilor. You are lucky I was here for you. I had
to do a lot of talking to the King to keep you from being disqualified. He
thought it might be good for you to lose. Teach you a lesson.”
“Well if that's all you care about, looking good to your
King, you take the medal. You won it for me.” Darius resented his father’s
one-sidedness. The nobility had lost touch with the people and only looked out
for themselves. That is not what he wanted. He wanted to feel proud as a
citizen of the Realm. He wanted to fight to defend something that meant more
than all of them. The power surged at his anger again. This time he didn’t hold
it back.
He ripped the medal from his neck and threw it towards him.
“You don't care about how I feel or why I do what I do. You don’t see the
injustices going on right in front of you. None of you do. Take the medal
yourself. Go show it to your nobles and congratulate yourselves for being so
mighty and just. Congratulations, you won the worst father award!”
It was one of those statements that as soon as Darius voiced
the words he wished he could take it back. It wasn't that he didn't think it
was true at the time, but he knew he shouldn't have said something so hurtful.
It was the power raging inside him that seemed to do the talking. It did stop
his father though, and Darius walked away without any more interaction.
Before turning outside of the field arena area, Darius
turned his head halfway around and saw his
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