The Duel

EPISODE 15

“A dawn duel, a dangerous beauty, and a son’s first open defiance.”

Dawn crawled slowly across the settlement, dragging pale gold light over discarded cups, half-burned logs, and the trampled grass where the clan had danced late into the night. The valley was quiet now, save for the distant bleating of goats and the soft rustle of wind against the heather.

But near the training grounds, where the dew still clung thick upon the earth, a crowd was forming.

The sound was unmistakable—

the metallic ring of steel being tested against steel.

A duel.

Tadg felt it before he heard it.

His heart tightened the way it always did when trouble approached, quiet and insistent as a whisper.

“Again!”

Lochlann’s voice, sharp with morning arrogance.

Tadg lengthened his stride.

THE DAWN DUEL

By the time Tadg reached the training circle, two young warriors were circling each other. Lochlann—bare-chested, breath steaming in the early chill—moved with effortless confidence. His opponent, Ronán mac Duir, was broader but slower, his movements heavy with the remnants of last night’s drink.

Around them stood onlookers from several clans, stifling their yawns with anticipation. And there, resting against an oak with amusement gleaming in her dark eyes, stood the girl from last night.

Elara.

Her presence radiated cool self-assurance, her hair braided with gold wire, her smile sharp as a blade. Every glance she cast toward the duel fed Lochlann’s ego until it swelled like a wave preparing to break.

Ronán swung; Lochlann slipped aside.

Lochlann lunged; Ronán barely blocked.

Tadg stepped forward.

“Lochlann!” His voice boomed across the clearing. “What is this?”

Lochlann did not turn.

He grinned as he pressed the attack.

“A friendly contest, Father,” he called over his shoulder. “A demonstration. The clans should know their prince is not merely heir by title but by strength.”

A murmur spread through the crowd.

Tadg felt a pulse of unease.

This was more than display.

This was posturing.

And it was aimed at Elara.

A DANGEROUS PRIZE

“Elara of Clan Brannach,” Tadg murmured under his breath.

Sileas had spoken of them only twice.

A rival clan.

Unsteady loyalties.

A history of stirring strife where harmony once lay.

Tadg approached her.

“You encourage this foolishness?” he asked quietly.

Elara tilted her head and smiled, slow and deliberate.

“I encourage a man to prove himself,” she said lightly. “There is no harm in that.”

But her eyes gleamed with something sharper than admiration.

Ronán stumbled; Lochlann advanced, blade poised.

“Elara is the prize,” someone whispered eagerly.

Lochlann flashed a proud, reckless smile.

Tadg’s jaw tightened.

This was not strength.

This was the beginning of ruin.

A FATHER’S WARNING

“Enough!” Tadg finally barked.

Lochlann froze mid-strike—

not in obedience, but in irritation.

Ronán lowered his sword gratefully.

Lochlann did not.

Tadg stepped forward, voice low and commanding.

“You would shed blood over a woman you met only hours ago?”

His gaze cut to Elara.

“Over someone whose clan has long thrived on discord?”

Elara’s expression never wavered.

Lochlann sheathed his sword with a flourish meant to impress everyone but succeeded only in worrying Tadg further.

“You speak of peace, Father,” Lochlann said loudly, “but peace is maintained by those who can defend it, not by omens or faery whispers.”

Murmurs rippled outward.

Tadg’s voice remained steady. “This is not your path.”

Lochlann stepped closer, chest heaving, eyes bright with anger and pride.

“Your path is weakness,” he shot back. “I am stronger than any faery you bend your knee to. Stronger than any god you seek signs from.”

A silence fell heavy as stone.

Even the birds seemed to hold their breath.

Tadg’s heart ached—not from the insult, but from the truth beneath it.

Lochlann no longer believed in the covenant.

And Elara’s gaze, cool and pleased, said she knew exactly what she was shaping.

THE HANDFASTING APPROACHES

By midday, rumors of the duel had spread throughout the settlement.

By sundown, whispers of Lochlann’s public admiration for the girl of Clan Brannach had taken root.

By nightfall, the elders were speaking quietly among themselves.

And by the next morning, Tadg was told what he had silently feared:

“Prince Lochlann intends to handfast with Elara.”