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T hey were fighting when she got up the next day.

Zelda looked down from a balcony into the inner courtyard. It had probably started out as a practice session. Unfortunately, it had gotten serious.

The general rule was that when two opponents of equal skill fought, the bigger one would win.

Ozzy was not the bigger one. He was going to lose!

But he's not fighting by himself. You choose him and he has us, the castle whispered in her mind.

“I did not choose!” Zelda snapped, outraged. Not officially, anyway, and it wasn't the castle's place to act on her feelings. Presumptuous pile of stones.

She clenched her hands as the castle rumbled. It was going to intervene.

“You will not,” she snarled. Her fist clenched as she matched wills with the castle. She would not cheat! The dishonor was beneath her.

I'll cheat for you, the castle whispered beguilingly. You'll have nothing to do with it. Just a loose stone, a stumble.

Never! Her uncle would be so ashamed of her.

“I rule here.” She pushed against the castle with an iron will, crushing it into submission.

Generations of fools and weaklings had let this castle run rampant, leading to this moment.

If she didn't stop this now, it would forever be too late. She would not bear that shame.

Slowly, the castle backed down. It surged a couple times, testing her will and finding it iron. Zelda had won.

“Zelda? What is it?”

She blinked, coming back to reality. Ozzy was in her face, demanding answers, Yarbo a step behind.

“I...” she swallowed hard to loosen her throat. “The castle was acting up.”

He waited. When that was all she said, he asked, “Is it done?”

She realized she was coated in sweat and grinned savagely. “Oh, it's done all right. For good.”

The men exchanged wary glances, as if debating her assessment.

“You were shouting,” Yarbo said, searching her face. “The walls shivered.”

“Yes, well. All part of having a living castle,” she said, trying to sound brisk. Unfortunately, she was slightly breathless. “It's settled down now. Excuse me.” She made a quick exit, avoiding the concerned expressions.

Her uncle was standing just around the corner. When she froze, he gave her a knowing look. He started walking.

She fell in beside him, unsure.

“Ozzy's a good choice. He understands how things are, he's sensible and he has the support of the locals.”

She stared at him. It wasn't like him to give his opinion on such things.

“We talked.”

Oh? They had? “When was this?”

“A while ago,” her uncle said, offhand. “Consider: we become more like the people we are with. What kind of person will you grow into with Yarbo at your side?”

She grimaced.

He chuckled. “You always were a smart girl.”

***

O N THE BALCONY, THE men sized each other up. Moments ago they were trying to kill each other, but now...

When Zelda cried out, Ozzy's heart skipped a beat, and without a second thought, he broke off from the duel, Yarbo right behind him.

With agile precision, Ozzy sheathed his sword and sprinted towards the castle wall. His muscles flexed as he grabbed the rough stone, pulling himself up with practiced speed. He scaled the wall, his eyes fixed on the balcony where Zelda stood.

As he reached the top, Ozzy swung himself over the edge and landed on the balcony, his feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. He straightened up, breathing heavily, his eyes scanning for any threat.

Yarbo had to take the stairs, so he was a beat behind, but it was clear Zelda was happy to see Ozzy.

Yarbo’s eyes narrowed, and he snorted like a bull, but in the end, he walked away. Ozzy had won that round.

***

N EITHER OF THEM SAID anything, but every time Ozzy looked at her, his eyes lightened. He looked expectant.

Finally, she came to a decision. It was a little scary, but it felt right.

Later that day, as she walked along the castle walls, she told him, “You made a good point.” She didn’t specify that she meant that incredible kiss. He knew.

“Oh? Does that mean you’re thinking of negotiations?” he asked lightly.

“Perhaps.” Yes, but she chose to match his flirting tone.

“I look forward to discussing them,” he said, his voice husky.

“This is negotiations only,” she cautioned him. “Courtship.”

“I understand,” he said, his voice deep. He kissed her hand. “I'm excellent at negotiations.”

She and Uncle Tank were invited to his camp for dinner the next night.

A tent was set up at the mouth of the cave, and Ozzy's mother, sister Serta, and grandmother Jun were there.

They sat on rugs around the campfire, lamps hanging from the tent supports, enjoying skewers of meat and tribal delicacies.

There were a number of serious questions asked.

“Would you expect Ozzy to live in the castle?” Ozzy's grandmother Jun asked. “Traditionally, the chieftain lives with his tribe.”

Zelda glanced at Ozzy, taking her time to reply.

“I will live in the castle,” Ozzy said firmly. “Zelda needs to be there, and the castle will not negotiate.”

Grandma Jun grunted but didn't argue.

“You'll have to work out who's in charge of what,” Serta observed, ripping a chunk of meat off a bone. “Assuming you plan to rule jointly.”

Zelda blew out a breath. That could be tricky. It was true they couldn't be debating these things in front of their people. And sometimes, decisive action would have to be made. Ozzy was used to being in charge. Someone had to have the final say.

“These things take time,” Grandma Jun observed. “It helps if you agree on most things. You will need to talk a good deal to see how you feel about important issues.”

“It might be a moot point,” Serta said. “Babies; if you choose to raise them instead of pawning them off on the servants, you won't have a lot of time for political squabbles.”

“That was a trade up,” Grandma Jun muttered. “Politics, ugh! I would rather change a diaper than listen to men squabble over water rights.”

Everyone laughed, but Zelda realized she had a point. “I admit, that sounds pretty boring. Important, but boring.”

Ozzy nodded. “We dealt with that just last summer. It took two days, three kegs of beer and a complicated trade agreement.”

Zelda made a face. “Trade agreements are fine. I enjoy those.” She could accomplish those without drinking excessive amounts of beer, too.

“You’re excellent at those,” Ozzy observed. “We probably would have gotten a better deal if you'd been there.”

“How do you feel about road repair and being in charge of armies?”

Zelda gave a long-suffering sigh. This had gone on long enough. “If you want to handle those, be my guest. Now if you don't mind, can we stop talking business before I decide that marrying you would be far too much work?”

The rest of the night passed pleasantly as she got to know more about Ozzy's family.

His mother, sister Serta, and grandmother Jun shared stories and laughter around the campfire, the warm glow of the lamps casting a cozy light over them.

The rich aroma of skewers of meat and other tribal delicacies filled the air, making the evening even more enjoyable.

In bed that night, her mind continued to dwell on the issue of what she would prefer to do, given the choice. Which did she care about more: how well the fruit trees were producing in the castle yard, or marching out to defeat an invader? Both were important, but which one would she rather handle?

She blew out a breath. The answer was obvious. The fruit. She'd rather raise children and take care of the household. It wasn't a small job, and it sounded like a nice break from the constant studying she'd done for most of her life.

It didn't mean she would stop paying attention to how the land was run, but it would take a lot of weight off her shoulders. That sounded nice, too.

And if she strenuously objected to something Ozzy was doing?

It wasn't as if she were a weakling. With the castle on her side, she could certainly overrule him.

Not that she would need to. If she didn't think that they could work out a solution, she wouldn't consider marrying him.

Neither one of them needed to be a bully.

She wanted him. It came down to that. She trusted her instincts, and Uncle Tank had vouched for him. Unless something crazy happened, she was going to marry him. It was that simple.