by Callie Kanno
It was clear to Idris that the young woman was lying, and the expression on Hildar’s face said that she thought so as well.
“Hello, Laur.”
The girl gave Hildar an exaggerated look of concern. “Why, how tired you look. You look positively ragged, poor thing. I pity you, I truly do. I cannot imagine the indignity of having to work for my living. Is your father having trouble with his holdings? Is that why he sent you to work for the king?”
Idris felt outrage boil up from his chest. “It is an honor to serve as a member of the Royal Guard.”
Laur turned her gaze on him as if she had just noticed he was standing there. She appeared both amused and puzzled. “Who is this creature, Hildar? Is he your friend?”
Idris’s face flushed. She was talking about him as if he were a stray animal that had wandered into the palace.
“He is also training to be a Royal Guard,” Hildar said in a tightly controlled voice.
Laur giggled. The sound grated on Idris’s nerves.
“How funny! He looks like a peasant, but surely they would not let such riffraff train as the king’s personal guard. I mean, since it is such an honor.”
Idris was about to whip out an angry reply, but Hildar interrupted.
“You will have to excuse us, Laur. We are watching over the princess, and she is moving away from here.”
Hildar grabbed Idris’s elbow and forcefully steered him away. Her grip was unnecessarily tight, and as soon as they were out of sight of the snobbish girl Hildar hissed in his ear.
“Were you trying to humiliate me, farmer, or are you really as ignorant as you seem?”
Idris couldn’t believe his ears. “What?”
Hildar’s expression was deeply disgusted. “If you are too dim-witted to understand the nuances of life among the Nobles, then perhaps you should keep out of it.”
With that, she turned and marched away, leaving Idris hurt and bewildered.
Roth, who was keeping an eye on the crown prince, walked over and patted Idris’s shoulder. “It is difficult for a Noble to give up their birthright in order to serve as a Royal Guard. Other Nobles are either resentful or envious, and few of them are kind. It will take Hildar a while to grow accustomed to being treated like an outsider.”
Idris was having a hard time feeling sympathetic for her. “If that is true, then Hildar should stop slapping away the potential friends that she does have.”
Roth smiled sadly. “Yes, well, we are not always wise when we are emotional.”
He walked away, and Idris was glad to be alone. He often felt that he was out of his depth living away from Rest Stone Valley, but this experience had taught him one thing for certain. Until he had a better understanding of life in Marath, he would follow Hildar’s advice and stay out of other people’s business.
Princess Zorina got her two dances with each of her brothers, and then all three of the children left the ball to return to the nursery. Idris and Hildar were assigned to guard the children for the rest of the night, and not a single word passed between them during that entire time.
Chapter Nineteen: Offers of Power
Hildar still wasn’t talking to Idris during training the following day, but Idris thought her silence was an improvement over her usual snide remarks about his struggles to control Iona.
“I do not understand,” Idris said to Aherin in despair. “What am I doing wrong?”
Neither of them were doing as well as Hildar in the day’s exercises, but at least Aherin was showing progress. His bow showed a faint glow of power, while Idris’s partisan remained stubbornly dull.
Aherin shook his head. “I do not know, Idris. Are you asking her politely?”
“Yes, but she keeps arguing with me. She says I am doing it wrong.”
“Are you?” asked Farah.
Idris wasn’t aware that Farah had been listening. He turned to look at her. “I am doing what you told me to do,” he said defensively.
Farah held up a finger. “I gave you guidelines to follow. Wielding a weapon of power is an individual process.”
Idris grumbled under his breath and tried again.
Please, Iona, will you cooperate with me?
Her reply was terse. Not as long as you are being a fool about it.
I am just trying to do as my teacher instructs.
Then she is a fool as well.
Idris let out a hard, frustrated sigh. He fought down the urge to throw the partisan into the ocean.
Farah watched his reaction impassively, then she walked over and adjusted Idris’s grip on the polearm. “You hold your weapon as if it were a venomous snake that could bite you at any moment. You need to stop being afraid, Idris. Your weapon is not your enemy unless you make it so. Think of it as a tool that you can work with.”
Perhaps she is not such a fool, Iona mused.
Idris took that as Iona’s approval of the new tactic, so he decided to give it a try. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was back home on his family’s farm. He pictured his mother’s vegetable garden, where he had first learned to till the earth and where his mother had taught him how each tool served its own purpose.
It was useless to use a tool for anything other than what it was made for, especially when a different tool would serve the purpose better.
The thought came to him, then: Iona was not meant to change Idris into a warrior. She was meant to enhance who he already was. With this realization he felt his mind opening up, and a rush of energy swept through his body.
“Idris,” Aherin cried.
Idris opened his eyes and looked down at the partisan in his hands. It was glowing even brighter than Hildar’s dagger.
“Well done,” Farah said warmly.
Demas clapped him on the back, but Hildar merely sniffed and turned away.
“Keep practicing,” encouraged Farah. “Next week we can begin doing team exercises.”
“Assuming he can remember how he did that,” Hildar muttered spitefully.
The smile slid from Idris’s face as her words sunk in. In a way, she was right. He didn’t know exactly how he had connected to Iona’s power, so how could he repeat it in the future?
Aherin noticed his expression and tried to reassure him. “Do not worry about what Hildar says. If you can do it once, you can do it again.”
Idris nodded and began going through the drills he had been taught by his other teacher during his military training. They had finished the basics of swordplay and had now moved on to polearms. Idris was glad to finally learn how to use his partisan properly.
As he went through the motions of smoothly twirling his partisan, Iona’s voice stole through his thoughts.
You are worried you cannot do it again.
Idris clenched his jaw. It would be easier to do if you would cooperate with me.
He could feel her amusement. I am not your problem.
Oh? Then what is?
You are, she said simply.
Idris almost fumbled, and he hurried to regain his grip. He couldn’t decide if she was playing off of his own insecurities or if she was telling the truth.
What do you mean?
Iona’s tone was matter-of-fact. Your teacher is right. You treat me like I am dangerous, but I am not. At least, I am not dangerous to you. You need to stop trying to have such rigid control over our joint actions. Let go, farmer.
Idris snorted. Not dangerous? You tried to burn down my quarters.
That was before, Iona said dismissively.
Before what?
Before our lives were linked. Now protecting you means protecting myself.
Idris didn’t find her words comforting. That does not mean that you do not have ulterior motives.
Everyone does, Iona allowed.
What is it that you want? Idris asked.
There was a moment of silence before the partisan answered his question.
I want to be great again. Marlais and I changed the world together. Many generations have
passed since his death, and he is still remembered. You could be just as great, farmer, if you would try.
Idris jabbed at the air with the blade of his weapon, trying to vent his frustration.
I am trying, he insisted.
Not as hard as you could be.
Idris spun and brought his partisan down in a slashing movement.
Why do you suddenly care if I succeed or not? he asked bitterly. I thought you wanted me to put you back in the Treasury to wait for a different master.
Another pause passed between them.
You intrigue me, farmer. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye.
Idris grunted, letting his doubt speak for him.
Iona went on in a more subdued tone. Also… I want Marlais to have a successor that is worthy of his legacy.
Idris paused and wiped the sweat from his brow. That will never happen, he thought, his discouragement clear in every word.
It will if you just learn to let go.
Idris could feel his resentment welling up inside.
That seems to be the only advice that you have to give. Well, let me tell you something—you are not helping!
He could feel Iona’s temper flare up in return.
My advice would be more helpful if you were not such a dunce.
Idris began swinging the partisan harder than was necessary. You know what I think?
Please, do tell, Iona shot back sarcastically.
I think you want me to relax control so you can take it for yourself. I have heard stories of weapons of power that take over their masters and use them as puppets.
Iona was deeply offended, and Idris could feel it.
I am no dark creation. I was forged in the heart of a pure Life Flame, and I was made from an untainted Source.
Idris had no idea what she was talking about, but he didn’t feel that it was a good time to ask questions about her past. He felt guilty about accusing her, but he couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was right.
“May I be excused?” he called to Farah, panting slightly as he caught his breath.
She nodded and crossed the training field to him. She took Iona from his hand and locked the partisan back into its holder.
“You have made good progress today, Idris,” Farah said to him. “Try to limit your interactions with your weapon for a while.”
She must have guessed from his expression that he was in a foul mood, and her warning was not without merit. Idris knew that he needed to leave Iona to herself for a while until his own temper was back under control.
Idris began walking back across the training compound, scowling at the ground and muttering angrily to himself. Farah may have said that he was making progress, but Idris felt that the opposite was true. Working with Iona was the most frustrating thing he had ever attempted. And worse, it was beginning to feel pointless.
Two pairs of boots came suddenly into his frame of vision, and he looked up just in enough time to stop himself from walking into the two soldiers. He instantly recognized Piton, and he regretted not noticing them soon enough to avoid this encounter.
“Well, well,” Piton said softly. “The farmer of the Royal Guard.”
The other soldier was a middle-aged woman who wore her long dark braid coiled around her head. She wore the blue tunic of a palace soldier, so Idris wasn’t sure what she was doing in the training grounds. Her dark eyes sparkled with interest.
“Oh, this is the famed farmer, is it?” she asked, her voice mocking.
Piton nodded. His expression was steely. “Yes, it is, Revelin. I lost my promotion because I got on the wrong side of the Royal Guards’ mongrel.”
Idris did feel bad about Piton losing his position as an instructor, but he didn’t feel it was unjustified.
“I apologize for interrupting,” Idris said. He forced his voice to be calm and respectful. “It was careless of me not to look where I was going.”
“Stay,” Revelin said with a grin. “I would love to hear how my friend was so unlucky as to get bitten by this puppy.”
Idris was still in training, which meant that these two were still his superiors. It didn’t matter that he would outrank them in a year. For now, he was still required to follow their orders. So he stayed where he was, breathing slowly and reminding himself that it didn’t matter what they said. It didn’t matter that they were insulting him and the Royal Guard. It didn’t matter that they kept referring to him as an animal.
The only thing that mattered was that he keep his temper and stay out of trouble.
“Tell me, Idris,” Piton said slowly, “do you think you are better than the rest of us?”
He immediately shook his head. “No, sir.”
The sneer on Piton’s face was almost unbearable. Idris wanted to punch him in the nose, but he knew there was no way to avoid getting in trouble for something like that.
“Your fellow Royal Guards do not think so, either. You are angry that I call you their mongrel, but anyone can see that they do not treat you as an equal.”
That rang too true for Idris’s comfort, and he shifted back and forth on his feet. “I am still a trainee, sir. I am not their equal.”
“Oh, so they treat Hildar and Aherin the same as you, do they?”
Idris paused. “Well…”
Piton’s voice was triumphant. “They pretend to be so honorable with their talk of the weapon choosing the wielder, but they have never had anything other than Nobles and soldiers in their ranks. Now that they are faced with a farmer, they are doing all that they can to shunt you to the side.”
Idris frowned. “No. My instructor is working very hard to train us all equally.”
“It is a show,” the man insisted. “Soon they will not even make that effort anymore. They will leave you behind with a token task while they win glory for themselves, and you will see how abandoned you truly are. What will you do then? After all, that business with the fight at the old well has severed your ties with any friends you might have had among the regular soldiers.”
For a moment, Idris stopped and really thought about it. Was Piton actually telling the truth, or was he just being spiteful? Idris already knew that he was not on the same level as Aherin and Hildar. He struggled so much more with his training than either of them did. And Iona kept telling him that he was nothing more than a farmer with a weapon. Is that all he would ever be?
“Piton,” Revelin said in false pity, “do not be cruel to the poor boy. There is such a thing as too much truth.”
Piton reach out and grasped Idris’s shoulder. “I tell you this so you fully appreciate my offer.”
It took Idris a moment to process those words. “Your offer?”
“You need a bridge back to those who will respect you—those who come from similar backgrounds and do not look down on it. You need to reconnect with the soldiers that make up the king’s true strength, instead of standing above them with those pretentious hypocrites.”
Idris’s brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”
“I can be that bridge,” Piton said as if it were obvious. “I can help you to make friends and connections in the king’s army.”
Idris was dumbfounded.
“Why?”
Piton laughed in a way that didn’t sound natural. “I know I was hard on you, Idris, but I am not heartless. I hate to see a lad mistreated in such a way.”
Idris’s mind was suddenly flooded with a feeling of disgust. He recognized it as Iona’s a moment before her voice rang out in his thoughts.
If you are still listening to this imbecile, farmer, then perhaps you are meant to be friends. It is clear that he is trying to convince you that he is doing you a great favor so he can ask for favors in return.
Although Idris wasn’t always confident that Iona was telling him the whole truth, he had no doubt that she was being perfectly honest now.
He cleared his throat uneasily. “Thank you for your offer, Piton. I will certainly keep it in mind.”
Before either of the older soldiers could object, Idris hurried past them and back to his quarters. He didn’t stop moving until he was safe in his own room.
“Demas was right,” he murmured. “There will always be people trying to take advantage of me and my position.”
Perhaps you should not make it so easy for them, you fool.
Idris unbuckled the holder and threw it on the bed, partisan and all. “Stop calling me a fool!”
Then stop acting like one.
“I suppose you have a way for me to change the way everyone thinks about me,” Idris said acidly.
As a matter of fact, I do.
Idris knew where she was going with that, even before she spoke again.
Let me help you to reach your full potential, farmer. You could be so powerful that no one would think to underestimate you ever again. Marlais also had humble beginnings, but no one remembers that now.
Idris pressed the palms of his hands against his temples. “Stop! I will not allow you to take control of me.”
Based off of what I just witnessed, it would not be hard for me to do.
Her words chilled him to the heart, and that sure knowledge came back to him—that certainty that she was telling the truth.
Chapter Twenty: Winter Surprises
As autumn faded into winter and snow began to cover the ground, Idris continued to struggle with his training. Although he had had a breakthrough with his partisan, he found that he was unable to replicate it. Farah assured him that it would simply take time, but he was barely able to keep up with his peers.
Aherin often took pity on him and helped him continue practicing when everyone else was dismissed from training.
“Try to relax your shoulders more, Idris,” Aherin suggested. “Keep your grip firm, but allow the rest of your body to move fluidly.”
Idris pressed his lips together and nodded. He started to relax the muscles in his body, but the moment that he did he could feel the warmth of the partisan’s power creeping up his arms. He immediately tensed and forced the power back down into the weapon.
Stop that, he said to Iona tersely.
