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Kiva remained silent, trying to keep some small shred of dignity intact.

Leading her to the far side of the training yard, Caldon finally came to a stop at an empty space near the corner and said, “Wait here, I’ll be back.”

He took off, leaving Kiva to watch a group of guards sparring close enough for her to marvel at their quick, daring moves. The sight catapulted her back to the bloodthirsty riot in Zalindov, where the inmates had taken up arms against the prison guards. Their laboring tools had been used as weapons; unwieldy pickaxes, hammers, and chisels fighting against much more lethal blades. Even now, Kiva could picture it vividly, her palms turning clammy as she recalled the screams, the blood, thedeath.

Sucking in a breath, Kiva wiped her hands on her leggings and willed her heartbeat to settle. She’d only just managed to calm down when Caldon came up behind her and dropped a wooden box on the ground, causing her to jump, her pulse racing anew.

The prince cocked an eyebrow at her overreaction, but then his features softened as he took in her pale face, as if he understood what memories were battling for her attention. To her relief, he didn’t comment on it, only saying, “Let’s start with some stretches.”

After completing a set of exercises to loosen her muscles, Kiva looked at the nearest pair of guards, their clashing swords screeching with each strike, and asked, “Is that what we’ll be doing?”

Caldon threw back his head and laughed. “You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you anywhereneara blade anytime soon.”

Kiva crossed her arms.

His chuckles waning, Caldon said, “I need to see what I’m working with here. Stand up as straight as you can.”

She did as ordered, his eyes trailing down her body, but not in his usual flirtatious way. There was a seriousness about him, enough for Kiva to realize this was important to him — the art of training, and the discipline required for it.

“It’s worse than I feared,” Caldon muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Are you sure you’re standing up straight?”

“Of course I’m —”

“May I?” Caldon didn’t wait for her permission before he pushed her shoulders back, kicked her legs apart, braced her spine, and tilted her chin up. “Better,” he said. “Now hold that position.”

Barely seconds passed before her shoulders began to curl inward and her chin drifted down, neither of which she would have noticed if Caldon hadn’t corrected them. A slight ache began in her lower back, the burn spreading both higher and lower the longer she remained in the one position, her neck beginning to scream.

“What’s the point of this?” Kiva asked, gritting her teeth when he pushed her shoulders into place yet again.

“We need to improve your balance and strengthen your core,” Caldon said, tapping his sword against her stomach. “You have seventeen years of bad habits to break, but those two are important. There’s no point in learning how to do anything more challenging” — he indicated the sparring swordsmen — “until your foundation is in place.”

“But I’m juststandinghere.”

“The way you stand affects the way you move,” he said. “If you can’t stand correctly, you’ll never move to the best of your ability.”

Kiva grumbled under her breath, but in the back of her mind, she saw the logic in what he was saying.

When Caldon called time, Kiva took great effort not to slump over. She ignored the dull ache in her back and neck, instead holding Caldon’s amused look and hating that he seemed to know about her physical discomfort anyway.

“Now that you know what your postureshouldbe,” he said, moving the wooden box closer, “step up.”

Wondering if it was some kind of trick, Kiva tentatively did as instructed. The box wasn’t very high, but she still felt her muscles tighten with the stretch.

“Now do that again, but hold your straight-backed position,” Caldon said.

Kiva repeated her actions, but this time with the correct posture, prompting a burning sensation to ricochet all the way down her body.

“Good,” Caldon said. “Again.”

And so Kiva did it again.

And again.

And again.