Page 14 of Fit for a Prince (Fit For A Crown #1)

Chapter fourteen

I t may have seemed foolish, but all calculated risks were.

Challenging the prince to a duel could have many negative outcomes...for someone who didn’t know how to fight. I was still far weaker than when I lived in Ivalon, but my skills were merely dormant and ready to be refreshed.

Damon had taught me well, and today I would put those teachings to the test.

I stood in the dusty armory, filled with every weapon my heart could desire and a guard in every corner. Oren was brought to me to help me prepare, but the second the older man stepped into the light I felt every ounce of my confidence drain out of me.

A nasty black eye was already swelling up to his eyebrow, but his stone-cold expression didn’t show even an ounce of pain. The guards scoffed at him as he stepped into the armory, but Oren paid them as much mind as a fly buzzing around a horse stall .

“Oren...” I kept my voice low, my lip quivering a touch as I got a better look at his swollen face. “What—”

“Nothing to worry about, my lady.” Oren’s face lit up at me, his monotone expression melting away as a cheerful smile forced itself all the way up to his purple eye. “Just a small punishment for allowing you to leave. Mara only received a warning, so she is well.”

The light in his eyes vanished as a cold aura overtook the old man. He eyed the guards watching him with the ferocity of a beast licking its teeth before diving into its prey. The fire that had been under my heels earlier was ten times hotter now.

He took the blame for me and protected Mara.

“I understand.” I could have bitten through stone with how much I was grinding my teeth.

His eye looked so painful. Flecks of blood clustered around the rims of his lid, but he still showed no sign of discomfort.

“I shall have to thank the guards for showing me what a solid hit can look like. I will strive to replicate it in my match against Prince Lochlan.”

I balled my hands into fists. I knew that I could never beat Lochlan in a fist fight, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to play dirty.

“I wouldn’t suggest it, my lady,” Oren said with a low voice.

“While I respect your ambitions to gain the prince’s attention, I cannot recommend you go through with this duel.

” He placed a hand on my arm and gripped me like he feared I would run away.

“Prince Lochlan is a master of the sword, second only to his brother. He won’t go easy on you simply because you are a woman. ”

As I thought.

While living in Ivalon, we often received word of our neighboring royals’ accomplishments. It was a way to flaunt each kingdom’s strength, but also a way to showcase their weapons. Lochlan and Atlas had always ranked high in combat, but Damon was always higher.

That was another reason why they’d killed him.

“I’m not afraid to fight him,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes on the guards as Oren pulled out a new dress from a satchel. “If he beats me down, I can always get back up again.”

“Until he doesn’t let you get back up,” Oren whispered, his face wincing with the first display of true pain.

He placed the dress in my hands. It was a breathable grey cotton that would likely reach my knee—not as good as trousers, but much better to fight in than a rich gown.

“ Ivalon needs you to succeed, my lady.” He mouthed the kingdom’s name, careful not to let the guards see.

“To succeed, you need to remain alive. Listen closely. There’s a handkerchief in your dress pocket.

When the fight begins, drop your sword and raise the handkerchief immediately.

That will signal your surrender and bring an end to the duel. ”

Surrender? What a foreign concept.

I took the dress from him, my fingers brushing the pocket where I could feel the handkerchief bulging the fabric.

“What would surrendering look like to the servants who are watching?” I asked, my gaze locked on his good eye. I couldn’t bear to look at his wound while he insisted I carry on unscathed.

“It will look like you value the life you were blessed to keep,” Oren said. “Every scratch on you tears at the remaining hope in our people.”

I tightened my grip on the dress, my finger slipping into the pocket where the soft linen fabric square was.

“I understand.” I nodded, pulling away and turning around to go change behind a curtain. “I simply won’t let him scratch me.”

I stepped out into the sparring yard, feeling more like myself than I had in months. My frilly curls were tied back in a low ponytail, and the knee-length dress I’d been given made me feel like I had twice the energy I actually possessed .

The open yard was freezing. We were still surrounded by castle walls, but the arena was roofless, allowing the elements to add to the realism of any battle.

It was built like a compact arena, with rows of seating all around the perimeter and a box seat that was likely reserved for the king during a real tournament.

My thin stockings weren’t nearly as good at warding off the cold as my floor-length gowns, but having the freedom to move meant my blood could heat me just as well.

Cedric and Atlas were up in the seats, looking stiff enough that I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had already frozen out in the cold. Both princes followed my every move, no doubt expecting these to be my last moments before having my head severed by their brother.

Lochlan was just as relaxed as his brothers were tense.

He barely glanced at me from across the yard, turning his attention to the weapons rack his servants had wheeled out for him.

I watched as he skimmed over the glinting spears and sharpened axes, finally selecting a sturdy broadsword that was the perfect weight to sever a head.

Interesting. I hadn’t expected him to be a broadsword man. Perhaps he was going to go easy on me, after all.

I wished I had been able to observe one of Lochlan’s sparring matches before our fight, but with how difficult it was to simply escape my bed chambers, there was little chance that I would have ever been permitted to view something interesting.

Today that would change. If I could prove to the princes why I’d been favored by King Leopold, then perhaps they might start to value my company.

But first, I needed to survive this match.

“My lady.” Oren summoned me to my own weapons rack, which was far less spectacular than Lochlan’s.

There was a lightweight rapier, a slingshot with a small bag of ammo, a bow with a half-empty quiver, and a shield that looked like it wouldn’t survive a hail storm.

“You must select your weapon. Per the rules of a match, you may choose up to three.”

Which meant Lochlan might be concealing more on him.

I browsed the sparse selection. Lochlan was far stronger than me, and even if I was faster, the rapier would never hold up against his broadsword, same with the shield.

I looked between the bow and the slingshot, my mind pulsing as scenes of potential battle plans played through my mind like a stage play.

That will work.

“I’ll take these two.” I selected the rapier and the slingshot. Even from across the yard I could feel Lochlan watching me, no doubt smirking at my choice of the delicate sword. I tucked the slingshot into the belt of my dress, then tied the bag of ammo beside it. “Is this acceptable?”

“Yes, my lady,” Oren said. “As long as you remember to drop all your weapons when you surrender, ammo included.”

“Got it. Thank you, Oren.” I took one final look at his bruised eye. My appetite for revenge was growing ravenous, and I could only imagine how delicious Lochlan’s wails might be.

“Be careful, my lady,” Oren said softly as he wheeled away the weapon cart, taking his position along the wall as Lochlan and I stepped into the center of the arena.

The ground crunched under our boots. Frozen mud and slush glazed the battle ground, and the thinnest dusting of snow flurries fell from the cloudy grey skies. Lochlan took his place, his sword casually resting on his shoulder as he watched me fumble with the grip on my rapier.

The handle was ice cold from sitting outside, making it painful to hold. I dropped the blade for a moment, muttering a curse as I scrambled to correct my grip.

Lochlan and his attendants laughed at the spectacle. “This will be more fun than I thought.” Lochlan shifted his sword between his palms, placing his weight on his back leg and readying for his first attack .

I studied the stance as quickly as I could. It was different from Damon’s, but still readable. I secured my grip in the rapier’s handle, brushing my fingers against the slingshot to assure it was within easy reach.

“I’m ready when you are,” I projected across the yard, my voice slightly cracked from the cold air. “Let’s begin.”

I flicked a quick glance up at Atlas and Cedric, making sure they were still watching. Cedric’s hands were clasped above his lips so tightly that they were turning blue from the cold. Atlas’s gaze was riveted to me, startling me for a brief moment before Lochlan pulled me back into the battle.

“Yes...” He flashed me a crocodile-like grin. “Let’s.”

The attendant waved a red flag, and the match began.

Lochlan sprinted straight for me, a smile plastered on his face as if the cold air had frozen it there. I couldn’t let him corner me, so I ran forward, raising my rapier with a sloppy swing. I could hear someone gasp around me as Lochlan made his first swipe toward my head.

Too slow.

As expected, his sword was too heavy to deal a quick blow.

I let the blade graze my cheek, giving him the illusion that he hadn’t entirely missed me.

I whispered a soft apology to Oren, realizing I’d already forgotten not to let his blade scratch me.

My dodge still threw him off, giving me a second to swing my rapier toward his shoulder with painfully bad form.

Lochlan reacted quickly, but not in the way I expected.

He didn’t dodge my rapier, instead he snatched it mid-air like it was a willow tree branch.

He didn’t even flinch as he let the blade cut into his glove and dribble blood down my sword.

My chest heaved as I sucked in the icy air, trying to catch my breath as he looked me dead in the eye while gripping my main weapon.

“I’m impressed, you’re not dead.” Lochlan flashed me his pearly smile, his eyes glinting with the hunger of a starved vulture.

Blood dripped from both of our wounds, the scratch from my cheek mixing with his blue blood on the thin layer of white snow.

“But you will be soon if that’s the best you’ve got. ”

He threw my blade down, yanking me with it so I tumbled forward.

He swung his broadsword again, this time aiming to cut me in half.

There was no time to fake a sloppy maneuver again.

I dropped the rapier, flipping my weight to the side with a mid-air roll that probably looked fancier than it felt as I catapulted myself through the air.

I dug my heels into the icy muck, steadying myself as I waited for Lochlan to gain his bearings and follow where I’d shifted .

“What?” He whipped his head around, his neck flaring red. “Do you think a frilly dance move will save you? Nice try, peasant.”

He lifted up his boot, and I debated dodging the blow, but it wasn’t lethal and I’d already shown one skill I hadn’t meant to. His heel slammed straight into my gut, knocking the wind out of me and potentially cracking a rib in the process.

I landed hard in the frozen mud, the ground too firm to provide any kind of cushion. The arena spun for a moment, but I blinked hard until Lochlan’s towering figure walked toward me, kicking away my rapier as he closed in.

“Pity to see such a pretty face rolling in the filth, but it seems fitting for a girl with such rotten lineage.” He stood back a few feet, biting his lip as he took in the delectable scene of my fallen form.

“To think you were meant to be a princess. Damon is probably looking down on you now saying good riddance. Anyone who thinks they can stand up to me is too foolish to be a— Ack!”

He dropped his sword, rendering the entire arena silent as it fell next to the tiny pebble of ammo I’d just fired.

He clutched the red welt on his wrist, looking up at me with a slack jaw as I gave him a fiery glare from my place in the mud, my slingshot still raised. A perfect hit .

Lochlan cursed, then scrambled to pick up the sword.

I rose to my feet, taking my time as I waited for him to raise the heavy blade.

The second it was in his hand, I pulled another pebble back in my slingshot, grateful that the walls around the sparring yard kept wind from interfering with my aim. It was almost too easy.

And...fire.

I snapped the slingshot, nailing Lochlan’s thumb so perfectly that he lost his grip on the sword again, dropping it back into the mud.

“You wench!” Lochlan reached for the sword again, but this time I went for his neck. I slung another stone, stinging his thick neck worse than any wasp. “Ouch! Why, I ought to—”

Fire.

I hit him in the chin, just a few inches shy from knocking out one of his perfect teeth like I really wanted to.

His head flung back, blocking his view of the sword and giving me the opening I was looking for.

I dashed for the broadsword, scooping it up from the ground along with a fistful of frozen mud.

My muscles strained from the weight, and my sore ribs were screaming at me with every icy breath I took, but when Lochlan finally looked at what I was holding, not even the pain of losing my kingdom could stop me from wanting to smile .

But I didn’t.

I raised the slingshot and the broadsword, meeting Lochlan’s enraged eyes as I threw them both on the ground. With my ammo bag empty and no weapons in hand, I reached into my pocket and raised the white handkerchief.

Oren was right, I didn’t need to beat him to win this fight.