Page 24

Kes faces me, her sword raised upwards, directly in front of her face.

“I find I’m in particularly fine form today, my Queen, so I hope you’ve come prepared to fight.

” There’s a gleam in her eye that tells me she’s invigorated by her sparring session with Ailish and that suits me just fine, as I need to expend this peculiar energy coursing through my veins before it consumes me.

I raise my sword too, my breath forming a misty shadow on the steel as it rests only a couple of inches from my face.

“Perfect!’ I exclaim as I move to make the first strike.

Of course, Kes blocks me with ease and with a challenging smirk announces, “Oh come now, my Queen, you can do better than that.” And so it begins.

I lunge, strike, parry, jump, roll, block and bend for the next half hour, all the while being matched by Kes.

“I see I’m not the only one in fine form today,” Kes growls in my ear as we tangle together again, our swords locked around each other. “Tell me, Majesty, what is it that has you so fired up this afternoon? Or should I say who has you so fired up?”

I glance into her eyes and am surprised to see amusement twinkling in them. Kes is not prone to moments of mirth, especially when brandishing a sword.

“What do you mean?” I ask, as I propel myself backwards by pushing off from her chest.

“I don’t mean anything,” she teases. “I’m merely observing how you have a certain energy about you today, and in my experience there’s usually only one thing that can cause such, shall we call it, frustration.”

I take advantage of her momentary pause and strike. “Oh really? And what might that be?” I ask as my blade clashes with hers.

“Oh, my dear Queen.” She sighs. “There’s only one thing on this earth that can affect us women so, and that’s a man.”

I’m so stunned by her response I momentarily lose concentration, and of course she capitalises on it immediately and within seconds the tip of her sword is at my throat.

I push it away with an irritated swipe of my arm. Her getting the upper hand on me stings but the possible truth of her words stings even more.

“Oh really?” I ask. “And do you have any particular man in mind who you think can affect me in this way?”

She laughs. “Elinor, I think you know to whom I’m referring. You dined with the prince last night, did you not? The sparks have been positively flying between you two ever since we grabbed him off his terrace back in Ellerban.”

I raise my sword to my face again, signifying I’m ready to start another round. Kes always calls me by my name when she either wants my attention or is about to dispense advice, much like the big sister I’ve never had. As our swords spark off each other, I can't help wondering what's coming next.

“Well?” she asks impatiently. “Did you or didn't you dine with the prince yesterday evening?”

I block her sword and jump out of her way as I answer, “Yes, I did.”

“And so? How did it go? Did you further discuss your plans for him?”

I twirl and back twirl as she makes a lunge for me. “Yes, I did.”

“Gah!” she exclaims, and I’m not sure if it’s because I managed to land a strike or because I’m not telling her what she wants to know.

“And?” she demands.

“And he's fine with it but on one condition.”

She steps off to the side, just out of my reach. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“I must be the one to harvest him.”

This time it's my turn to capitalise on her surprise and I lunge forward, making a deadly strike against her sword, and we both watch as it slides across the smooth stones of the courtyard.

It rattles to a stop at the far edge of the stones, but instead of going to pick it up she turns to me. “What?” she asks, a puzzled expression on her face, as if she hasn't heard me correctly.

“He insists I must be the one to harvest him,” I repeat.

She stands there. Frozen. Her eyes wide and mouth open. Finally she finds her voice. “What did you say to him?”

“I told him it’s out of the question.”

“And what was his response to that?”

“He made it quite clear, unless I agree to this one condition he will refuse to become my king.”

Her eyes widen in shock and she starts to slowly walk towards her sword. “By the gods,” she exclaims under her breath, “I didn't see this coming. What are you going to do?”

“I don't know,” I reply, as I stare at the grey stones under my feet. “On the one hand it's good he is prepared to become my king, but on the other, this condition he insists upon is unfeasible.”

Kes picks up her sword and starts to walk back towards me, a curious expression on her face. “Is it?” she asks.

“What?” I reply, not trying to hide the surprise in my voice.

She stands in front of me and in a low voice says, “Think about it, if you harvest him and his seed proves good, then you will be his wife and will go on to fully consummate your union. So the physical contact between the two of you prior to your marriage won't be a problem.”

“And if his seed doesn't prove good, and I am forced to submit to Greythorne, what then?”

“Then at least you won't be totally naive in the ways of men,” she replies, and I can tell by her expression there is more she wishes to say.

I quickly look away as I feel the first flush of embarrassment start to spread across my cheeks.

“Elinor,” Kes says softly, “your lack of experience is something we need to talk about.

I feel I would be failing you as your commander and your friend if I didn't bring it up. You have neither mother nor sister to speak with on these things, and I refuse to let you go to your wedding bed without furnishing you with some idea of what to expect.”

“Kes, please,” I plead as my cheeks burn with mortification, “do we really need to speak of these things now?”

She looks over my shoulder and her expression changes. “It looks like it's a conversation we're going to have to have another time, but I'll tell you this, if I had to choose as to who to have for my first time – Greythorne or the prince – then I know who I would choose.”

I stare at her in shock, and I'm just about to try to formulate a reply when a deep voice sounds behind me. “Good evening, ladies, getting in a little sword practice, are we?”

I turn to find the prince standing there, head-to-toe in black, looking devastatingly handsome and smiling a wicked smile at me and Kes.

“Good evening, Prince Ronan,” I reply. “I trust you’ve had a good day?”

“It's been most interesting,” he answers as his eyes fall upon my sword. “So, am I to take it you are coached in the art of swordsmanship, my Queen?”

My queen? Did he just refer to me as “my queen” as if we already have an understanding between us?

I smile. “I'm trained in the art of many blades, Prince Ronan.”

His fingers touch the spot on his neck where he previously felt the point of my blade. “Indeed, your skill with a dagger is impressive, but a sword is an altogether different kind of weapon to master.”

“And do you consider yourself a master swordsman, Prince Ronan?”

He smirks at the challenge in my voice. “I most certainly do, Queen Elinor, perhaps someday you shall witness my prowess with a blade.”

I smirk back. I don’t think his princely male pride is ever going to recover from the fact I managed to get the better of him that night on his terrace. “There’s no time like the present,” I suggest cheekily, responding to his inferred challenge.

He cocks his eyebrow and turns to Kes. “Commander, would you do me the honour of lending me your sword?”

Kes looks at me and I nod. She hands her sword over to the prince, who weighs it in his hands.

“It's a little light and on the short side for me, but it should be up to the task.”

“And what task is that?” I ask.

“Putting you at the end of my blade, well, at least my borrowed blade.”

I raise my sword to my face. “Best of luck with that,” I declare, before striking out with my sword.

His block is effortless, and as he steps back he cocks his left eyebrow and smiles. “So eager, my Queen. however, we haven’t yet agreed terms.”

“Terms?” I ask.

“Oh yes, terms,” he replies. “There’s no point in crossing swords if there isn’t to be a prize at the end of it.”

I halt my forward movement and steady my sword. “Prize?”

A broad grin stretches across his face and a mischievous glint lights up his eyes and I have an unsettling feeling I’m about to fall into a trap partly of my own making.

“Yes, a prize. If I win, my prize is you spending the night with me in my bed chamber.”

I feel my eyes widening in shock and I nearly drop my sword at his words.

After all I’ve said to him about keeping things proper and following protocols, he either doesn’t understand what I’m telling him or he doesn’t care.

Looking at him grinning at me from across the courtyard, I suspect it’s the latter.

I’m about to tell him, yet again, why that can’t happen when a thought occurs to me and I sense an opportunity.

“Fine,” I declare. “I accept your terms, but I have one of my own. Should I best you then as my prize I demand you relinquish your condition and allow the maidens of the Harvest to be the ones to harvest your seed.”

He starts to laugh and advances towards me. “I agree, but there’s just one thing I need to know.”

“And what’s that?”

“Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“Gah!” I exclaim in frustration as I let my sword fly in his direction.

He laughs and side steps out of my way.

I turn and find his blade perilously close to my face. “First strike wins,” he declares.

I quickly parry, sliding my sword along the length of his blade, and then I tuck myself in close to his body as I twirl around his back. I land at his feet and slice the air with an uppercut strike, but he’s guessed my plan and easily blocks my move.

I jump back out of his reach and raise my sword again. “May I point out that might be rather painful for you as you aren't wearing any armour.”