Page 12 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

In the guards’ changing room, I retained my breeches and boots, but donned a thick canvas tunic in elvish blue.

The training yard was hard-packed earth, surrounded on all sides by thick, stone walls and parapets where sentries were posted in intervals.

Anika asked me to go through our standard fae forms so that she might observe, then showed me their elvish variation.

The main difference was that they couldn’t rely on flight to dodge or strike, so their maneuvers were more grounded and even acrobatic at times.

“I imagine you could do a lot with the aid of your wings,” Anika said when I added a flourish to one of their turning kicks.

“Yes, but for ground skirmishes, they can be a disadvantage. Too much of a target.”

“I can see that as well. Let us spar now.”

We each grabbed a wooden staff from the rack and took up a ready position. My staff was slender but strong, decorated with delicate vine patterns. Anika’s staff appeared to have been crafted from a sturdy oak branch, its surface adorned with elven runes and bound with intricate leatherwork.

Lord Vasil had wandered onto the shaded balcony that overlooked the courtyard to observe us from above. As we traded a few light jabs to warm up, I found myself sweating under his imperious gaze. Nerves and excitement, it was a heady cocktail he inspired.

Why was I so keen to impress him? Why had I always sought his attention, even as a lad?

I’d been so jealous of my older brother and the many occasions when Godfried received the lion’s share of Lord Vasil’s attention.

Even now, envy burned through me at the thought of my brother calling Vasil by his first name, to be so intimate and casual with a man whom I was swiftly considering to be my lord.

As my thoughts churned, our blows intensified.

Anika’s athleticism was impressive and I resisted the urge toward flight to avoid some of her more unexpected attacks.

I tried not to let the fact that she was a woman soften my blows, but at one point, she stopped me and said, “Do not go easy on me, Your Highness.”

“Call me Cedrych,” I said, my muscles truly warmed up by now.

We faced off once more. Having the lord’s attention filled me with anticipation, as visceral as the summer breeze kissing my cheek.

With a nod from Anika, we started again.

She gripped her oaken staff with a determined expression, her movements fluid and precise.

I lunged toward her aiming for a solid strike at her shoulder, but she deftly parried, our weapons clashing with a satisfying thud.

She countered with a swift, sweeping motion aimed at my legs, and I leapt into the air, avoiding the blow.

Anika smiled as she circled me, her staff poised for another strike. She feinted left, then quickly shifted her stance to attack from the right. I was prepared and blocked her advance with a spin of my staff, the movement so fast that the wood blurred before my eyes.

We continued our dance, the dust from our movements thick in the air as our breathing became more labored.

Our weapons wove patterns through the air while the muted thud of wood echoed throughout the yard.

Other soldiers gathered to observe our match, but I ignored their presence, too focused on besting my worthy opponent.

At last, I managed to land a glancing blow on Anika’s shoulder, and she stumbled back, acknowledging my skill with a nod of respect.

We paused, catching our breath, but the respite was short-lived.

With renewed determination, Anika lunged, her staff whirling like a tempest. I defended with as much grace as I could muster, each strike and parry a testament to our respective years of training and the mutual admiration for each other’s craft.

As the sun rose in the sky, signaling high noon, Anika finally called a truce. We lowered our weapons, both of us worn out but smiling. Our onlookers clapped in appreciation, but my eyes drifted upward to Lord Vasil, still gazing down upon me with one of his inscrutable expressions.

“We’ll have to do this again soon," Anika said, wiping beads of sweat from her brow.

“I’d enjoy that very much,” I replied.

As we put away our wooden staffs and washed up with water from one of the basins, I said to Anika, “Have you any advice for me, in dealing with Lord Vasil?”

She paused and seemed to consider it. “You can trust him to do the right thing, the noble thing, even if it isn’t necessarily what he wants.

His security protocol is paramount, so you must adhere to it.

And you should avoid keeping secrets from him.

The lord has endured much heartache and has been betrayed by those closest to him.

If you wish to be truly intimate, then you may have to be the first to let down your guard. ”

I appreciated her sound advice, which rang true based on what I knew of the man. “Thank you again for the sparring session. I look forward to training with you tomorrow.”

“We’re happy to have you, Cedrych. Good luck with our lord.”

Our lord. A subtle reminder that he did not belong to me, not really. He belonged to his people–his guard, his guilds, and his loyal subjects. As for me, estranged from my lands, all but banished by my sovereign, and viewed as a disgrace by my own people, I belonged to no one.

Just as Lord Vasil had said, I was truly alone.