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With impeccable timing, Aunt Berna shouted from downstairs. “Boys!”

We padded down the stairs to see Lord Castemont standing with our wooden swords in hand, Tyrak at his side. “Who wants to learn how to wield a sword?”

Chapter 18

“A clean slice is the goal,” Castemont said, Tyrak’s sword in his hand as we stood in the small garden behind our house. Aunt Berna had fire lamps installed a few years ago so Tobyas and I could play into the night, and the shadowy light made the Lord and his guard look even more imposing. “But before you can make that slice, you have much to learn.”

“How much could there be to learn about swinging a sword?” Tobyas asked.

In two quick movements, Lord Castemont lunged forward and swung, knocking the wooden sword from my brother’s hand. Tobyas’ face flushed with embarrassment. “No fair,” he muttered, bending down awkwardly for his sword.

“Muchto learn,” Lord Castemont repeated, passing the sword back to Tyrak. It looked much more natural in the guard’s grip with his calloused hands and clean-cut leathers. “Tyrak here has volunteered to give you lessons, should you be interested.”

The guard nodded his head. “I believe you have the potential to join the Royal Guard one day,” he said, his tone rugged. His olive skin glowed dimly in the light of the lamps, his eyes and hair as dark as the shadows that danced around the garden. “You just need a bit of training.” Though he spoke to both of us, his eyes were glued on me.

“Cal has the height,” Aunt Berna called from where she sat on a bench in the garden. Lord Castemont moved to join her, taking a seat a bit too close to her for my liking. “And I’m sure Tobyas will, too, in a few years,” she tacked on as if it were an afterthought.

Tyrak gave a slight nod. He bent his knees, the hilt of his sword still in his grip as he surveyed me. “What is the most important thing to know about fighting?”

“Stab the other guy,” Tobyas chirped.

Tyrak’s eyes crinkled with the hint of a smile. “That is important, yes.” He began walking a circle around the two of us. “Balance,” he explained, “is the most important thing to remember about fighting. Balance can be the difference between standing and falling, between winning and losing, between living and dying. Keep your balance, and you may keep your life, even if you lose the fight.”

He moved closer to me, and though I was used to feeling eyes on me, his stare felt different. It felt thick with unspoken words, and the slight furrow to his brow ruined his mask of composure.

Halting in front of me, he suddenly threw his sword in the air, the pommel landing perfectly in the palm of his hand, the blade standing straight up. “When you can hold the blade to the sky in the palm of your hand without it wavering, then you will be ready.”

Tobyas wasted no time, his tongue stuck out as he concentrated on standing his wooden sword straight up. It quickly clattered to the gravel. “That’s impossible,” he called seconds later.

“You see me do it with your own two eyes and tell me it’s impossible?” Tyrak’s voice was laced with amusement.

My brother grumbled under his breath as he tried again, Tyrak’s eyes refocusing on me. He cocked a dark brow expectantly. I swallowed, quickly standing my sword in my palm. It didn’t take long for it to join Tobyas’ on the ground.

“Good,” Tyrak stated, nodding his head. “But you can do better.”

My first reaction was to flinch at the bluntness of his words, but he was right. I could do better. Retrieving my faux blade, I tried and tried, meeting the same ending each time.

The fire lamps had begun to burn low and Tobyas had long since given up, but still I tried. I managed to get it to stand perfectly straight a few times but would have to shuffle my feet to keep it from tipping over. Every time it landed on the gravel I’d get a little more frustrated.

I wondered if my father knew how to wield a sword, wherever he was now. I bet he could. So I was going to learn, too.

“It’s late, Cal,” Aunt Berna’s voice cut through my concentration. I realized that at some point Tobyas had curled up on the bench, his head resting in her lap as he dozed.

“Let me try one more time,” I begged. She gave a small nod as she yawned and I propped the sword up on my hand. Balance. I was doing it, I was–

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lord Castemont place his hand on Aunt Berna’s back as he leaned over to whisper in her ear, and the sword once again hit the gravel.

“I’m impressed,” Tyrak said. “You’ve made more progress in one night than I see other trainees make in weeks.”

I wanted so badly to appreciate his words, but half my attention remained on the garden bench. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow for another lesson.”

Lord Castemont approached me, a hand extended. I met his grasp, sure to give a firm handshake like Aunt Berna had taught me. “Keep at it and you’ll be in the Royal Guard in no time. Thank you for dinner, Bernadet.” I cringed as he used her first name so informally. “It was an absolute pleasure.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” she crooned, dipping her head in the way that was becoming nauseatingly familiar. I fought to keep from rolling my eyes.

“Midday tomorrow?”