Chapter 2:
Eight Summers Later…
The lance smashed into the knight's chest with a hard impact, jarring the man off his horse as pieces of wood splintered around him. Edward rode by and lifted his mangled lance high in victory. The crowd cheered wildly for their favorite competitor.
"Three points to Sir Edward of Masen!" the herald yelled as a page raised Sir Edward's flag to the stand, the red lion dancing across the black cloth in the wind.
This was Edward's final match of the day, and he had won them all. He reveled in the cheers of the crowd, all wishing him well and congratulating him. A far cry from the beginning of his life, but then he didn't like to dwell on those days.
Edward had begun as a miserable wretch, a poor beggar boy too lowly even for pity. He shuddered and pushed that thought away as he took a final lap around the arena. His days in Forks were in the past. Now he was Sir Edward of Masen, knight of Volterra and favorite of King Aro. No one knew of his former life. The two kingdoms had been on the brink of war since before his birth and the borders closed even longer. Volterra only knew him as their champion Sir Edward, and there was not a sole around who could spot him as the beggar boy who once roamed the streets of Forks.
Sir Jasper cantered over to him and the two men clasped forearms.
"Well done, Ed. Another night of celebration ahead then, eh?"
"Your lack of focus amazes me, Jasper. The tournament's barely begun. Today's processional will not decide the winner."
Jasper winked and chuckled. "Well, yes, but it's only been a day and Sir Michael's ass is already looking a bit sore. Two more days of this tournament and he should be done for."
They watched Sir Michael stand from where Edward had thrown him off his horse and walk stiffly over to his squire, rubbing his ass while he yelled at the poor boy. Jasper laughed heartily and even Edward gave a dark chuckle. He had never liked the weasel.
The trumpets sounded as King Aro stood and the crowd fell silent. Aro raised his hands toward the competing knights and the watching crowd, donning a fatherly smile for his subjects.
"Welcome all to the Tournament of Volterra. May your swords be sharp and lances strike true." Edward suppressed an eye roll. For such a wicked old bastard, Aro could play the role of grandfatherly king well. "Our competition has begun today with gallantry worthy of this country, I could not be more pleased. And in honor this day, I offer a prize to match the valor of our competitors. I'm sure you will all appreciate this added… incentive to champion the tournament."
Edward and Jasper exchanged curious looks. Aro was building up the tournament prize an unusual amount. The best he had ever offered to a champion was a gold statue of Adonis, which was currently standing in Edward's parlor in the castle.
The crowd watched as four large encasements covered in cloths were rolled out to the front of the arena.
King Aro, a delighted smile on his face, called out, "As prizes for the champions of sword, ax and bow, I give you three jewels taken from our enemy land of Forks-" the crowd booed at the name "-and brought here to please our young lords!" He waved his hand and the covers were pulled off of the first three encasements to reveal three finely dressed and beautiful women in barred cages, each cringing away as the crowd roared in excitement. Each wore a blue sash emblazoned with a white wolf around their waists, the Forks emblem.
Jasper let out a yell of surprised delight. "Well the King has certainly found an attractive way to spice up this tournament! Ladies of Forks, who would have thought him to be so bold."
Edward did not openly react. He had gotten quite adept over the years at hiding any reaction towards the mention of Forks, his onetime home that nearly killed him and would kill him now if ever revealed. He was a knight of Volterra, respected and revered throughout, yet if his true past was ever unearthed, he would lose it all and quite possibly be the next man in line at the gallows. But Edward had buried that all and he would no more flinch at the mention of his birth land then he would allow another to ride his horse.
Aro quieted the crowd with a slice of his hand. "And to be presented to the winner of the lance and tournament champion, I bestow a gem of the finest caliber, a supposedly unattainable treasure— now to be the entertainment of our winner." The crowd laughed. "I give you—" he waved his hand and the last curtain pulled away "the fair Lady Marie, beloved niece to King William of Forks himself!"
The crowd roared in triumph as the cloth fluttered off of the cage to reveal a dark haired beauty clutching the bars and staring defiantly out to her country's enemies. Her long chocolate hair flowed down her back and her cheeks flushed with rage to create the most attractive shade of rose.
Edward stilled, unable to move a fraction of an inch as he stared at the woman. She had grown, and though she had clearly been pampered for this event, there was a shadow of a bruise on her cheek that suggested a struggle and a coldness to her eyes that had not been there once. Yet all he could truly see was an angel. His heart clenched as Sir Edward of Masen, Knight of Volterra was once more the small beggar boy, gazing up at the most beautiful sight in the world. He began breathing faster, panting in awestruck shock and one word forced its way up his tightening throat and was wrenched from his lips.
"Bella."
As though she had heard it, though it was not possible from across the arena, she turned her eyes to meet his with a piercing certainty in them. He hadn't felt so bare, so vulnerable since that time many years ago when she had gazed upon him. He didn't know whether to fall to his knees and weep or to slay her on the spot for once more exposing that pitiful boy that he had worked so hard to quash.
But after a moment, she looked past him. He knew what she saw, just another knight, another enemy. Edward no longer resembled that dirty skin-and-bones child, a blessing, indeed. Yet he couldn't quell the hollow in his chest.
No. He had to get a grip on himself. Where was the control that he had spent years refining? Where was the stoic focus that Carlisle had taught him? But try as he might, he could not pull his eyes away from the beauty.
The crowd was becoming restless, pushing forward to get a good look and jeer at the foreign women.
Bella clenched the bars with her small hands and glared down at the people with the defiance of a high noble. Edward watched the tightening crowd with anger. But then he glanced to his fellow knights who were all leering at her with wolfish grins and soon his blood was boiling.
The beauty, the angel was caged behind bars, at the mercy of his cruel king and countrymen— bent on possessing the enemy king's lovely niece. Edward's chest tightened and his hands clenched into fists.
No matter what else would come of it, he would win this tournament if it cost the lives of every man here.