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The sun still sat below the horizon when the captain knocked on the princess’ door.

She opened it with sleep-laden eyes, rubbing at them. She trailed up the captain’s figure. “Is there a reason you’re bothering me before the sun has even risen?”

“Put some clothes on and come with me.”

She scoffed, her body coming to life at his rude demeanor. “What? Why would I do that?” She retained her yawn. A small piece of her wondered if the captain was still in his foul mood from yesterday, misleading her, wanting to drag her away in the early morning to rid him of her presence once and for all.

“I’m going to train you.”

Her brows creased together, her hand gripping her door tightly. “You're going to… What?”

His jaw ticked like he was angry. He was always angry. “Come with me now, liten rev .”

She wanted to argue with him. To tell him off for being so cold to her yesterday when she thought they were finally getting along, but something else inside her was too curious to fight. She pursed her lips, studying him as he waited. She finally grunted before shutting her door and throwing off her chemise.

“Wear pants,” he spoke through the heavy wood.

She swore under her breath, tugging on a pair of trousers. She slid the olive-green pants over her hips, the soft satin blouse billowing over her arms, then topped it with an olive dress to disguise her clothes. She appeared back in the doorway moments later, letting Evrardin guide her out to the gardens.

Gooseflesh pilled on Mara’s arms as the soft howl of the dark morning wind rushed through the open windows.

It was silent between the two as he led her down the corridors. She wondered what he had crossing in the depths of his mind, tracing his dark features with her eyes. “Quit staring at me,” he mumbled.

Mara felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “I don’t understand what we’re doing.”

Evrardin opened his mouth, but no words came out.

It was only another moment until they reached the gardens in the courtyard. “Out here?” Mara asked as the warm summer air blew the skirts of her dresses around her feet.

“Not quite. We’re goin’ out by the honey trees. Can't be spotted there from the castle. It’s too far.”

“The prince won’t be looking for you?”

Evrardin grunted in response.

“Evrardin,” she hissed.

He didn’t stop.

“Evrardin!” she shouted, halting.

He finally turned, clearly agitated, to face her.

“Where are you taking me?”

“The gardens. I told you?—”

“But why ? I don’t see why you’re dragging me from my chambers so early in the morning. To what? Train me? And I’m supposed to just be compliant, why? You’ve given me no reason to trust you.”

He sucked in a breath, glancing down the hall to make sure they were alone. “You should learn how to protect yourself.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand?—”

“Unfortunately, I’m not someone you can trust.” She didn’t know why, but these words hurt. “But I am someone who can help you. Let me train you in self-defense.”

Mara’s eyes softened, swallowing hard at Evrardin’s intense stare. She wanted to ask more, but the solid way the captain pleaded made her want to trust him, even with his previous statement. “Okay,” she said gently, unsure of what she was agreeing to.

The captain nodded, turning around to lead her out into the gardens.

The moon cast a faint glow over the foliage, the flowers and shrubbery shining like they were shrouded with a silver blanket.

Evrardin peered down at the princess as they walked side by side. “Nervous?” he mocked.

Mara glared at him. He was goading her. “So, what if I am?”

“I don’t know. I guess I always thought of you as a bit defiant. Thought you’d be used to this”—he gestured his head forward—“kind of thing.”

Mara’s fingertips brushed across the petals of a mourning flower as they strolled past. “And do you spend your time thinking of me often?”

“Never good things.”

“Course,” she agreed. “And never on your own will, I presume?”

“Nothing is ever on my free will when it comes to you.”

She imagined he would be scowling. His face giving away something to insinuate that the idea of her disgusted him—that thinking of her when she wasn’t around made him sick. Yet, when she glanced at him, he seemed more… guilty.

“You usually talk a lot when you’re nervous,” he stated flatly.

Mara sighed as they crossed the bridge over the small, silver pond. Its banisters an icy blue, almost transparent. “If you must know,” she began, dragging out her syllables, “I’m not keen on the idea of falling into bad graces with the prince.”

Evrardin’s teeth clenched, grinding the ivory of them against one another. “You won’t.” Two simple words the princess couldn’t fully trust.

“Good. Because if I do, this is your fault. Let the record show that I tried to argue this.”

“And I suppose you’ll make it clear to the prince that it was all my doing—that the captain forced his tiny betrothed into unseemly circumstances?”

Mara pursed her lips. “Are you implying he wouldn’t believe me?”

“No. I’m implying I know already that you care not about throwing me to the wolves.”

She huffed in annoyance, following a few beats behind his gait.

They approached a small nestle of honey trees, their bark golden, the honey oozing from their pores, glistening in the moonlight. Mara immediately swiped a finger through the nectar and brought it to her mouth. Her eyes closed as she savored the flavor.

“Honey is rare in the south,” she said. “They don’t take well to the cold, and there's so little to exist that it’s never imported.”

Evrardin watched her for another moment as she examined the trees, marveling at their amber leaves.

“Shall we get started?”

Mara refocused on Evrardin as he unsheathed a knife from his belt. She nodded and began to undo the laces of her dress.

Evrardin’s eyebrows immediately shot to his hairline. “Princess, what’re you?—?”

He was almost mesmerized—entranced, even—by Mara as she slid the sleeves of her dress off her shoulder and shimmied out of it. Mara carefully folded her dress and placed it behind her and the captain cleared his throat. “You told me to wear trousers,” she blushed. “I didn’t think it’d be appropriate if I was caught in this,” she explained, her hands gesturing down her body to her newfound clothes.

“Right. Smart,” Evrardin added. He handed Mara the knife he held, tearing off the sheath as she accepted the weapon. “Keep this on you at all times,” he demanded.

Mara flipped the dagger over in her hand. The hilt was simple: a faded silver, a blue gem in the center. The blade smokey and well-kept, its beauty soft and quiescent. Artisanal.

“A gift?” she jested.

“It may not be the kind of adornment you’re used to, but it will do the job.”

She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“Why do you always assume you know what I’m thinking? Like you know me so well?” There was a pause as they glared at one another. “If you had cared to ask, I was admiring it. I think it’s rather pretty.”

Evrardin’s eyes narrowed as he stalked toward her. For a moment, a flutter of fear crossed Mara’s heart. “S’not supposed to be pretty. It's a weapon.” Evrardin’s hands moved, wrapping the sheath around her waist. His fingers quickly secured the belt, pulling it tight enough to make her gasp.

“Just because something is designed for malice, doesn’t mean it can’t be marveled at. Plenty of things destined for bloodshed are disguised in beauty.” Her eyes met his. “You’re to tell me you don’t revere the swords you spend hours polishing?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t waste my time honoring the apparency of such ordinances when their only purpose is to be sharp enough to end a life.”

“Maybe that’s your problem, then. You lack the couth to appreciate the subtleties of malevolence. The tiny intricacies that artisans take in these things you brutes deem weapons.”

“Is that so? When I gut innocent men because my prince commands me to, is that beautiful?”

She scrunched her face. “Is a sword not a symbol of strength and protection? Is an ax not a savior against injustices? A warhammer that of virtue, or spears of comradery?” She sighed. “The sword is not at fault for being wrongly used.”

“Is there a reason you’re eager to lecture me?”

“You say I lack worldliness, yet you are nothing more than a savage who acts on impulses instead of rational thought.” She crossed her arms in a huff.

The corner of Evrardin’s mouth ticked. “Ready?”

Mara nodded, her waist still feeling the aftershock of Evrardin’s hands grazing her.

“Now, assuming you won’t get into any real skirmishes, I’m just going to teach you how to escape an assault. And how to retaliate.”

Mara had the nerve to want to chastise him for thinking she wouldn’t see any real battle, but he was right.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious when I say keep that on you.” He gestured his head toward the belt. “Even if you do it solely because it matches your outfit.”

Mara glared at him and chose to ignore his quip. “It’s a bit conspicuous, don’t you think? Not sure the prince will approve of me walking around like this.”

“Good thing we’re not askin’ him. Keep it under your skirts.”

The conversation of what was beneath Mara’s skirts on Evrardin’s lips made her blush. She nodded, mirroring him, and took out the new weapon.

Evrardin raised his hand, looking like he was readying to pounce. “all right, try and attack me.”

Mara looked at him dumbfounded. “But you’re unarmed.”

Evrardin laughed. “You think I need a weapon to defend myself against you ?”

Mara’s neck pinked, and she averted her eyes to tuck away her embarrassment. “I…” she stuttered. “I don’t know how.”

Evrardin’s dark eyes softened slightly, but the rage was still there beneath the surface. “And I’ll show you how. But first, I just need to get a feel for how you move.”

The pink on Mara’s neck climbed farther up to her cheeks. Still, she nodded like she felt confident, attempting to imagine it was her brother she was sparring with. She had sparred many times with Azor, but never truly learned anything of use—she just wanted to be able to hit him with a wooden stick.

Mara took a step toward Evrardin, jutting her dagger out. In one fell swoop, Evrardin dodged her arm, using the momentum of her step to get behind her, bringing her hand with him, and holding it behind her back.

He held her for a moment before letting go and she stumbled forward. “Good. Next time, don’t show your attacker where you’re going to strike by extending your arm before you even move your feet.”

Mara blinked rapidly, still a little dazed by Evrardin’s swift movements. “Right,” she mumbled.

“Again,” he commanded.

Mara repositioned herself and this time, she leaned into him but brought her hand up on his side. Evrardin was quicker though, and he caught her hand in time to stop her from hitting his armor. He clutched her wrist between his fingers, her dagger falling to the ground. “Now get out of my hold.”

Mara wiggled her arm, trying to pull it back.

“No. You have to move closer in order to get further away.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said exasperated.

“Push into me, then twist yourself so you go under my arm, and I’ll be forced to release my grip.”

Mara sucked in an aggravated breath before doing what he instructed. She twirled and contorted her body.

“Use what you have,” he growled irritated.

“I’m not armed,” she spat back through bated breaths as Ev held her, her dagger mocking her in the grass.

“Your nails. Make me let go, Mara.”

Her fingers scratched at his arms, digging her nails into his skin. She might have protested hurting him, but for once, she had no problem doing as he instructed. Her foot slipped behind him so Evrardin had no choice but to let go.

They did this for what felt like hours before Mara was huffing for air. She leaned back against an ivy-covered stone wall, her hands on her knees as she struggled for air.

“Ready to go again?” he teased.

She scowled up at him, her heart rate slowly resetting back to its normal rhythm.

Evrardin flipped Mara’s dagger in his hand as he waited for her. She slowly pushed herself back up and stalled, not wanting to practice any longer. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, no matter how practical.

But if she was to voice this, she’d never hear the end of how spoiled she was. How she can’t be uncomfortable for ten minutes even if it meant saving her life. So she refrained.

Instead, she strolled over to a bushel of blackwood flowers, marveling at the depth of their color, the sky slowly beginning to glow as the sun inched upward. It was rare to find ones quite this dark. It made her eyes feel a little woozy as she stared at the black petals—they seemed to steal all the light from around them. “Wow,” she muttered, leaning in closer to see if she could make out any of the flower’s texture. “The gardener here is truly something else,” she praised, standing back up to her full height.

Evrardin laughed. Mara shot him a look. “What’s so funny? Are you truly so corrupt, you can’t admire pretty flowers either?”

He shook his head. “Quite the opposite, liten rev .” Evrardin crossed his arms over his chest, his lip quirking at the side. “You just might think differently if you knew who he was.”

“Oh, pray tell,” she mused. She strutted back over to him and met his eyes, her hands behind her as she awaited his response with a coy smile on her lips.

Evrardin returned her stare, not speaking. He caught the dagger on its blade and extended the hilt for her to take between her fingers.

“You are the gardener,” she spoke softly.

“Don’t sound so admirable, Princess.”

She shook her head, the tendrils of her hair sticking to the sweat on her face, taking the dagger from his extended hand. “This is more than a hobby?” she asked. She looked around at the beautiful flora. “You grew these?”

“No. Not all. But this area is mostly my doing, yes.”

“You’ve yet to surprise me so.”

“And what is it about my pastime that surprises you, liten rev ?”

Mara bit her lip, dragging her foot in the grass. “It’s just… they’re all so… pretty.” And Evrardin was so… not pretty.

He took a step closer to her. “You think me only capable of ruining things?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He smirked. “But you were thinking it.”.

Then his hands were on her, grabbing her waist and spinning her around. Mara gasped as he clutched her tightly in his arms, her heart racing, dropping her dagger in the chaos. He engulfed her against his broad chest, his grasp tightening. “Now, escape,” he instructed darkly.

“That’s not fair! You didn’t let me prepare!”

“And you think your attacker will give you time to get yourself situated?”

Mara hated the way her heart skipped. “I don’t know, in the right attire I can be pretty convincing.”

He scoffed, but it almost sounded like he had a smile plastered on his face.

She struggled at first, wiggling against him. He grunted as she shook her shoulders back and forth, trying to slip out of his grip, but it was no use. “Quit squirmin’,” he said, strained. “And slide your leg behind mine. Then put all your weight on the back of my knee.”

She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus. She was blind as she pushed her foot back, trying to wrap it around Evrardin’s leg. He was so much taller than her, it made it nearly impossible. Mara arched her back into him, her leg extending, her backside flush with his front. She whined as she finally hooked her leg over his and placed her weight into him.

Evrardin released her and she stumbled forward, catching herself on her knees and palms. She stood up, a small smile on her face. “So, did I do it right?” she asked. That felt exhilarating. She didn’t want to admit the rush she got when she realized she could escape his lethal hold.

Evrardin’s face didn’t return the same jovialness. “Think that’s enough for today.” His voice had gone irritatingly hoarse.

Mara blinked rapidly a few times as Evrardin picked her dagger off the ground and flipped it in his hand, handing her the hilt.

“But I thought we were just getting started.” Mara reluctantly took the dagger from him.

“Put your dress back on,” he demanded. He spun around, walking over to the bridge to wait for her. Her eyes trailed his hand as it landed on the hilt of his sword, shifting his belt as he moved, awkwardly adjusting his trousers.

Now Mara was positive her face turned bright red. She struggled to pull her dress back on, her hands a bit shaky as she tried to push down the rising warmth inside her.