They rested side by side against the trunk of the willow. She told him about her studies, and he told her about his training, and the pounding of his heart gave way to the once-familiar ease of talking with his best friend.
“Don’t you wish sometimes that you’d chosen something easier to do—easier on your body, I mean?”
“Sometimes I do, but—I know it sounds strange—I like to work hard, to push myself, see how much more I can do. Besides, combat training is light work after spending all that time sport fighting.”
“I don’t know what that feels like. My only job is to learn to manage the house and to be a lady of Society. If my family were butchers or tailors or carpenters, I’d be working right alongside my parents. But because I’m a lady I’m supposed to be above that. Father will never take me on business trips with him, like that Crested man who came today with his son. He’ll never teach me how to manage his properties, even though I’m his only child. You probably know more about the Fieldstone business than I do.”
Grant did teach him about his business, did take him on trips, more and more often now that he was getting older, now that he was keeping himself out of trouble. Venture had never thought about how it must make Jade feel. “I could talk to him about it. I don’t think he knows that you want to learn—”
“No, don’t.” Jade put her hand on his arm. “Don’t say anything. It’s not that I want to learn about his business. It’s that I want him to want to teach me.”
Venture nodded.
“Instead he’s satisfied that I’m just a spoiled little girl, like all of his friends’ daughters.”
“You are not just a spoiled little girl! You aren’t like the others.” He didn’t mention that if she’d fit that mold so well, she’d be sitting down to supper with those Crested men right now. Instead he said, “Which of them would want anything to do with me? You’re smart and kind and honest.” He was about to add that she was faster and tougher than any of them, but he wasn’t sure that wouldn’t make her feel worse now that she was supposed to be turning into a young lady. “You’ll find a way to do something more with your life, Jade. I know you will.”
“Thanks, Vent.”
She took his hand and leaned against his shoulder, and it felt good and right to be her comfort again.
“Other girls look at you, you know. Rich girls from good families.”
“They do not.”
She gave him a look that said, Yes they do.
“Even if they do, that doesn’t mean they want anything to do with me.”
“Marina wants something to do with you.”
“Marina, the new maid? Isn’t she a lot older than me?”
“Only by a year-and-a-half. And anyhow, she thought you were older—you’ve grown so tall lately—until I told her you were still fourteen, but apparently she’s so set on you she doesn’t care.”
“That’s ridiculous. Are you sure?”
“She likes to talk about you to the other girls, and believe me she doesn’t do it in a very ladylike way.”
Jade had let go of his hand by this time, and set her eyes on her lap. She kept her hands busy smoothing out her skirt.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.
“No, I just wouldn’t want a girl like that to get her hands on you, especially since you’re only fourteen.”
“I’m almost fifteen,” he pointed out, not appreciating being babied by a mere girl even younger than himself.
“I know. I guess that’s really not the point. If you met some sweet girl who cared for you, and not just about your eyes or your teeth or how strong you are, then I‘d be happy for you,” she said, as though this were only common sense.
“You would?” Venture’s stomach lurched.
“Of course.”
“Well, that’s good to know.” He pictured Jade being courted by some fine, handsome gentleman. A good man. Should he be happy for her if that happened? When that happened?
He’d left an uncomfortable silence between them, so he steered the conversation back to Marina. “She likes my teeth?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Are you sure she doesn’t think I’m a horse?”
Jade smacked him playfully in the gut and burst out laughing. Impulsively, he leaned over, scooped her up, and stood, holding her in his arms.
“Put me down!”
He obeyed her laughter, the slender arm that she slipped around his neck, the other hand that rested on his chest—not her words. That wonderful scent of Jade’s day in the early Autumn outdoors, a delicious memory of childhood afternoons spent together, but now with something different—something more—surrounded him. Holding all of her in his arms like this, he thought he might whisk her off somewhere.
“Shh!” he warned her, laughingly, fearlessly, “somebody might hear you.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
He looked right into those sparkling eyes, then kissed each of her cheeks, so perfectly freckled, and followed the curve of her neck with his eyes, down to the small silver pendant she wore, the one that had once belonged to her mother, and which was bejeweled with the initials they both shared—
J. F
. A glittering reminder of who she was. He felt his own wooden pendant, once his mother’s, against his skin beneath his shirt, a much plainer reminder of who he was.
“I was going to toss you up in the air, but I just remembered you’re a young lady.” He set her down on her feet.
“Maybe you should kiss me instead.”
“Why?” He felt almost sick, he wanted to so bad. But did she really mean it?
“Because I want you to.” This time she was quiet, completely sincere.
Venture knew he was going to regret what he was about to do. He gently removed her hands from his shoulders, straightened her skirt, and smoothed back her disheveled hair.
“Not today, Jade.” He brushed off his own clothes, then pulled the swishing willow boughs aside. “I have to go. Justice is probably wondering where I am. And you’d better head home. It’ll be dark soon.”
She nodded, and barely pronounced, “Good-bye” as he ducked out of their hiding place, into the waning sunshine.
Venture fought the urge to turn right back around and go kiss her. So what if she’d be happy to see him end up with a nice girl? So what if he couldn’t have her? He could have kissed her, and at least had that. But the truth, the impossible, awful truth had grown too strong for him to deny it anymore. He wanted Jade for himself, not just for a friend and not just for the fun of a kiss or two under the willow tree. If she married some Crested man—if she married any man—he didn’t know how he’d live with that.
As if it weren’t enough that he couldn’t pursue his dream to be a fighter, he’d never have the means to pursue Jade seriously, not even once he was free, not even if she wanted him. Unless—the Champions of All Richland were richer than Grant Fieldstone. He had the God-given talent and opportunity to be a prize fighter. Only one thing—no, one person—stood in his way.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Venture stewed and prayed desperately about his unpursued dreams for nearly a week before he concluded that he was just going to have to do something about it. He got up early one morning and reached Beamer’s Center just after sunrise, before most of the others had arrived. The trainers were always there early, to be briefed by the coaches on the plans for the day, and to prepare the training rooms. He found Earnest stocking the healing supply cupboard.
“What’s going on, Vent?” Earnest said over his shoulder, still arranging bottles of ointment into neat rows.
“I need to talk to you. Alone.”
Earnest glanced around. Three boys were stretching out, conversing in low voices on the opposite end of the mat. Two trainers carried armfuls of clean towels out and stacked them on the matside shelves.
“So talk,” he said with a shrug. “We’re alone enough.”
“It’s important.”
Earnest paused, studied Venture’s face. “All right. Come with me to the ice room.”
Venture followed him out of the main training room, down the hall, and to the cellar door. Earnest lifted a lantern from a wall hook and lit it, and they descended the dark, narrow stone stairway. Venture helped him to heave the heavy oak door to the ice room open and to pull it shut behind them. Chunks of ice hewn from the Sweet River last winter and insulated with straw formed walls around them, sealing the little room in coolness.
“What is it?”
The words poured out of Venture in one passionate breath. “I want to be a prize fighter. I want to compete, and I want to win the All Richland Absolute Fighting Championship so that I know I’m the best, and so that I can do whatever I want with the rest of my life.”
Earnest’s eyes brightened with interest, but he said, “I hear you, Vent, but you told me there’s some reason you can’t do it.”
“That’s why I need your help.”
“I’m listening.” Earnest folded his sinewy arms expectantly.
Venture rubbed his knuckles. He hadn’t told anyone except Jade. He and Justice never talked about it. No one knew, not even Grant Fieldstone. “You have to promise not to repeat this to anyone. I mean it.”
“I swear by the god of Atran. May he strike me down if I say a word.”
Venture rolled his eyes. Earnest cared as much about the Atranian faith as Venture did for Heval. “You’re not supposed to swear by the God of Atran,” he pointed out.
Earnest rolled his eyes back, at the ridiculous teaching of Venture’s faith. “All right, then. I swear by every god known to man, except for the god of Atran.”
Venture glared at him.
“I just swear, all right. Spill it.”
“I can’t just ask my brother to let me train to be a prize fighter.”
“Why not? I know it has its risks, but it’s not like it’s going to kill you,” he said with a shrug.
Inside Venture, something dropped. An old, hard heaviness, which could never quite be swallowed down, rose up in its place.
Earnest held the lantern up a little higher and squinted at him. “Vent?”
This was it. He was going to have to do it. Tell Earnest, something powerful inside him said. Something stronger than the voice that said I can’t. I just can’t. Venture tried not to feel the words as he said them. “Our father died in a prize fight, when I was six.”
The color drained from Earnest’s face. He almost dropped the lantern. “I’m sorry, Vent. I’m really sorry.”
Venture pushed at the pieces of straw strewn on the damp floor with his bare toe. “You didn’t know. Like you said, it hardly ever happens. But to Justice, that doesn’t mean much. I was too young, but he was fourteen. He was watching the fight. He feels responsible for me—responsible to my parents.”
“Have you ever talked to him about it before—about you prize fighting?”
“I never brought it up, but when he first found out I was taking fighting lessons, he wasn’t happy about it. He knows you, though, and he knows you do a good job. Maybe he’d believe I’d be all right with you.”
“I don’t know, Vent. Beamer keeps talking about moving me up to the elites soon. If that happens, I want to have you there with me. But I’m not sure he’s convinced he needs another trainer there. You can’t count on that. You’ve got to be willing to do this on your own, at least for now.”
Vent swallowed hard. He didn’t really know the elite trainers. They wouldn’t understand why he hadn’t gone with the elites in the first place. Neither would the boys. They’d make things even tougher on him for it, no doubt. But he could handle it. He could handle anything on the mat. Everything seemed to fall into place on the mat. Things made sense on the mat. He made sense on the mat. He’d never say it aloud—he knew it sounded crazy—but ever since he’d stepped foot on it, he’d felt certain that he was made for the mat.
“I can see why you didn’t want to ask Justice,” Earnest said. “I guess the real question is, do you want it bad enough to break your brother’s heart?”
He looked up at Earnest. He understood. He really understood what Venture was contemplating, what the consequences could be. He would not only break Justice’s heart just by asking, he’d have to break him down somehow in order to get his permission. And it wasn’t just Justice’s disapproval he was going to have to live with; though he’d never heard her say anything against it, every night that his father had been gone fighting, his mother had spent on her knees, praying, sometimes crying. Venture stared at the damp stone wall for a moment, then looked, steely-eyed, back at Earnest.
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then, I guess you know what you have to do. Ask him. He can’t say yes if you don’t ask.” Earnest gave him a reassuring slap on the shoulder, then hefted up a block of ice, brushed bits of straw off of it, and wrapped it in a cloth. “Ask him to consider it. To come see the elites train and compete. To talk to me and Beamer about it.”
“But can’t you—”
“He needs to know that it’s your idea, that it’s not us pushing you. He needs to hear it from you first and to understand how you want it, or he’ll never agree.”
That evening, Venture took a seat at the table across from his brother.
Justice was sipping a cup of coffee and reading the
Capital Crier
. Grace had taken Tory outside to take down the washing after supper. Now was Venture’s chance. He rubbed his palm in circles over the table top that he’d helped Justice sand smooth. He’d helped him build it, helped him build this house. And he’d felt, finally, like he was more than just Justice’s trouble-making little brother. Like he was building Justice’s respect for him as they worked side by side. They got along most of the time now, agreed on most things. The trouble was, they disagreed on the important ones.
“I need to talk to you about something.” Venture said. He tried to reassure himself with the thought that this was the right thing—why else would he have been given such ability, such drive, and, aside from Justice’s objection, such opportunity—and therefore it must work out somehow. He had to have faith in that.
Justice set down the paper and frowned at Vent. “Okay,” he said warily.
“I don’t really want to be a guard.” There. I’ve said it. But instead of feeling better, he felt a terrible sagging fear, for that was only the half of it.