by M. D. Laird
“Right, Zayn,” Maol said, approaching the boy. “Let’s sort out your stance. Never have your feet this close together. Look how easily I can push you.” He pushed the boy backwards until he stumbled. “Stand with your feet apart and when you move, keep them spread apart. Keep your feet flat on the ground. If you rise up onto your toes or lean forwards, you’re going to lose stability. Focus on keeping a solid base. Keep your blade close to your body and don’t reach forward. Focus on that for now.” He turned to the other boy. “What’s your name?”
“Karim.”
“Okay, Karim,” he said. “Your footwork isn’t bad, but you’re slouching. Keep yourself upright, straighten your spine and keep your chest forward. You’re also holding your blade too far away from you. Keep the blade close. Okay, try again.”
The boys started again, and they had improved a little. “Good. Better. Feet apart, Zayn. Remember your base. Good, Karim. Keep your blade close. Bend your elbows. You want to attack with your sword and not your arms.”
By the time Kyle ended the session the boys were still dreadful swordsmen, but they had much better posture. The hominem started to leave the pit and Kyle approached Maol.
“Do you want to spar with steel instead of twigs this time?” He grinned wickedly.
Maol smiled, but then he hesitated.
He is too friendly.
“You know I’m a slave, right? I’m not an official instructor.”
“We don’t call anyone slave here, Maol. We’re all men.”
Maol nodded, and Kyle handed him a steel blade. Its liquescent surface shimmered in the morning sun. Maol flexed his shoulders and took his stance and parried as Kyle lunged for him.
The bell had sounded for lunch before Maol and Kyle had finished sparring. Maol was exhausted, sweating and ready for a bath, but it felt good to hold a sword again—even a blunt one. Kyle slapped Maol on the shoulder.
“No one else here fights like you,” he said. “It’s good to have a challenge, though the commander is probably going to check me for abandoning the other trainees to spar with you.”
Thomas and the princess returned to Arkazatinia to attend the Procnatus Christmas ball. The night was not getting off to a wonderful start as Thomas sat in Hallward’s kitchen waiting for the princess to finish readying herself. Hallward and the queen had long since left, and Thomas was beginning to feel impatient. He downed the last of the second brandy he had taken whilst he waited before marching to the foot of the stairs.
“Princess!” He growled. “If you’re not out in exactly two minutes I will come in that room and drag you to the party whatever state of dress you are in.”
“I’m coming now,” the princess shouted back. A door opened, and she emerged and appeared at the top of the stairs in the red dress she had made him take her shopping to buy. “What do you think?”
“I think you have wasted hours of my time, Princess.” He snarled. “I won’t flatter the vanity of thorian. You spending hours trying to make yourself more attractive reveals you for the narcissist you are.” Thomas turned and stormed out of the house to the aerial vector.
He climbed on board the vector and the princess sat opposite him with her arms folded and glared at him. He returned her glare until she turned to look out of the window. He programmed the vector’s console, and the vehicle took to the air.
“Aren’t you going to announce us?” Thomas asked the Procnatus male who took their invitation as the prince and princess entered the Guild of Procnatus.
“We don’t really do that in Arkazatinia,” the Procnatus replied.
“We are foreign dignitaries,” Thomas replied. “I would rather you did.”
“Prince, no,” whined the princess. “It will be embarrassing if it’s not normally done. Let’s just go in.”
Thomas grunted, strode past the male and entered the hall with the princess trailing behind. She caught up with him. “I don’t know why you wanted to come here,” he grumbled. “We can’t very well sit at the rulers’ table, and we don’t know anyone else.”
“Surely you know the angels and demons?”
“Many of them, but I’m a prince, I’m not going to socialise with the lower ranks.”
The princess rolled her eyes at him. “Let’s just find a table.”
Thomas led her to a table; they took a seat as a waiter approached them to offer champagne.
“Shall we dance?” she asked nervously.
“What?”
“Do you want to dance?”
“No. I never dance.”
“I like to dance.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
“Are you going to be this pleasant all night?” she snapped.
“Probably. I hate parties.” Thomas spotted the queen speaking with Berith Prince Avalon. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He left the table to approach the prince and the queen. “Avalon. It has been a while.” Thomas greeted the prince with a smile and a kiss on his cheek.
“Welcome, Thomas,” said Avalon, “I hear you have gotten yourself married.”
“Yes. A nasty business it is too. She’s more trouble than she’s worth and she won’t even let me anywhere near her.”
Avalon laughed. “I shall not be following in your footsteps anytime soon. I don’t know what is becoming of demons wanting to marry all of a sudden.”
“Well, I wish I hadn’t bothered,” grumbled Thomas. “Anyway, Avalon. Would you mind awfully if I steal Her Majesty for a few moments?”
“Not at all,” said Avalon, bowing and walking away,
“I didn’t have the chance to mention this earlier,” said Thomas to the queen, “but how is your little project with the Procnatus coming along.”
The queen gave her eyes an exasperated roll. “How many times are you going to bring this up, Prince?” she said. “I have spoken to Thalia since your outburst, and we have practically fallen out over this project. I have pulled my support, and I have forbidden her from progressing with it.”
“Good,” he said.
“Thalia was a good friend,” said the queen. “This has damaged our relationship.”
“Don’t be so vain.” Thomas grinned. “Surely you must see it is for the best and if that Procnatus lord cannot see reason, then that is her problem. She is probably concerned about the money she stands to lose.”
“If you would have just allowed me to speak to her in my own time, I could have smoothed things over. Why you had to steam in and start threatening, I don’t know.”
“I threatened no one.”
“You made threats to tell the king we were preparing for war!”
“Yes, well. She wouldn’t have listened otherwise. She probably would have talked you round or manipulated you into going through with it.”
“Do you think I’m so naïve?”
“Yes,” he said plainly.
The queen glared at him. “Well, now she hates me for taking your side. She hates me even more for putting my foot down and pulling the plug on everything. If you had just let me speak to her calmly like I said I would then this could have been avoided.”
“I’m not a patient man.” He smirked.
“I don’t know why you’re so concerned anyway. What was it to you?”
“It seemed like a stupid plan, and I wasn’t breaching my decree by preventing it so I thought I would.”
“Telling the king we are preparing for war is not violating your decree?” She sneered.
“Informing my king that another country is making a weapon that could endanger our land so that he might prepare is not breaching my decree.”
“You’re just twisting the facts. You knew we would have no choice but to stop the plan.”
“You saw sense,” he said. “Don’t try and pin the blame for that on me.”
“I did, Prince. But my issue is the way you have acted and that you have caused me to lose my friend.”
“She’ll adjust.” Tho
mas grinned. “Just blame it on me. I don’t mind. And, you’re at their party so you can’t be that estranged.”
“I’m here with Mr Hallward,” she said. “And she can’t very well stop the queen from attending. Anyway, Prince. I haven’t finished with Prince Avalon, so I shall go and find him and allow you to return to the princess. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Your Majesty.” Delighted with his actions, he gave her a wicked smile before he turned back towards the princess.
A thorian female approached Thomas as he made his way to his table.
“Prince Thomas,” she said, smiling. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“And you are?”
“Kya of Calahad,” she said, lowering her lashes.
“Pleased to meet you, Kya of Calahad,” he replied. She offered him her hand, and he raised it to his lips.
“I have heard a lot about you, Prince, and I have been excited to meet you,” she said, stepping closer to him.
Thomas felt his heart beat quicken. “Is that so?”
“You’re married, is that correct?”
“It is.”
“But your wife does not keep you…entertained?”
“How would you know what my wife does?”
“I may have…overheard something.” She licked her lips. “I would be a little more grateful for my time with a prince if I were her.”
“Grateful how?” Thomas asked, stepping closer.
She gave him a coy smile. “I can show you,” she whispered.
Thomas gazed at her. He felt excited and bit his lip. “There are lots of demons here tonight.”
“There is only one blue-eyed foreign prince.” She smiled seductively, running her hand along his arm to the back of his neck. She pulled him towards her to kiss him. Thomas’ eyes flickered towards the princess and he jerked himself away from the woman before their lips met.
“I’m married,” he replied, walking towards his table.
Thomas sat at the table and picked up his champagne. The princess straightened in her seat.
“Who was that?” she asked.
Thomas gave her a slow smile. “Kya of Calahad.”
“What did she want?”
He grinned lazily. “What did it look like she wanted?” The princess turned her gaze from him and sipped her champagne. He chuckled. “Are you jealous, Princess?”
“Of course not,” she replied plainly.
He laughed. “It is okay to be territorial over your man.”
“I am not territorial,” she replied firmly. “And you are not my man! You may do as you please.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You would be happy for me to spend the night with someone else?”
“I am well aware that you have…needs that must be fulfilled.”
“We vowed to be faithful to each other.”
“I said that because my father said he would kill me if I didn’t and you said it because you wanted to annoy my father. I have broken our vows as I am in love with another man. Our vows mean nothing.”
“Are you saying this so you feel less guilty about your feelings for stable boy?” Thomas laughed.
“I feel not the slightest hint of guilt about stable boy.” She snarled. “I married you for no other reason than it was preferable to death.” She left the table and marched towards the corridor leading to the ladies’ cloakroom.
Thomas growled.
Who does she think she is?
How dare she speak to him like that? He saw the woman who had approached him and was tempted to take her outside and take his annoyance with the princess out on her. The thought aroused him. He was becoming frustrated with the lack of attention he received from the princess and felt he should look for it elsewhere. Instead, he made his way to the bar to get a harder drink than the champagne that was still circling around the room.
I won’t feel guilty
Eleanor stopped before she reached the corridor and turned to look at the prince. He had left the table and was making his way towards the Calahad woman… No, he walked past her and was heading for the bar.
I’m not going to feel guilty... Damn it!
Guilt gnawed at her and her stomach twisted. She was mean to the prince. Their vows did not mean nothing. If nothing else, they meant safety from her father.
She walked to the bar and joined the prince who was nursing a glass of brandy. “Can you get me one of those?”
“Get your own; they’re free.”
She summoned the attention of the bartender.
“What can I get you, miss?” he asked.
The prince growled. “This is Her Highness Princess Eleanor of Axandria.”
“He didn’t know, Prince,” said Eleanor
“He would have if we’d been announced.” Prince Thomas snarled.
“Hey,” said Eleanor softly, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You’re mad at me, not him.” She turned towards the bartender. “Brandy, please.” She turned back to the prince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Save your breath, Princess,” he snapped. “You’re only apologising because you’re worried I will return you to your father. I won't.”
“Thank you. But that is not why I want to apologise.” The barman returned with her brandy, she nodded her thanks and took a sip. “Prince, I was cruel. That wasn’t necessary. I just find it…difficult sometimes.”
“Why?” he asked, exasperated. “I give you everything you ask for. You’ve always known what you are for. You’re chattel for your father to marry. If you had married a lord, do you think you would have as much freedom? Not likely and you’d be expected to have conjugal encounters regularly and provide an heir. If they shared your father’s mentality, then you would be beaten for every tantrum you have. Yet, despite that, I doubt your father would have had to threaten to kill you to get you to marry a lord.”
“This is not all I am for,” she said. “I am a person, and I have feelings. And I would not have been any happier to marry a lord, though I agree I was more terrified because I did not know what to expect from you. I wish I could get past my resentment, but I’m still adjusting, and I need time. I am in a position where I don’t want to be married, but I want to stay married, so my father doesn’t punish me. That is unfair for both of us. Also, I am in love with another man who I miss terribly, and I have heard nothing from in ages. I am just miserable—about everything in my life.”
“I threatened you many times that I will send you back to your father when you have annoyed me because I know you don’t want to go. The reasons you stay with me have nothing to do with you wanting to have anything to do with me and I accept that. I try to give you everything you want and keep you happy, but it is never enough.”
She shook her head. In a way, his twisted logic of their marriage and his intentions seemed to make sense. But he was right about her not wanting to return to her father. She would much rather stay with the prince. “If it helps, if my father gave me a choice now between you and any of the lords, I would pick you.”
He glowered. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that, but you forget something.” She paused, confused. “Princess, I am a prince of the first order and the master of my guild, and I have never been spoken to in the way that you speak to me.”
“Prince, I’m your wife. I should be your equal; you can’t expect me to talk to you as though I serve under you.”
His lip curled. “You are not my equal.”
“I’m not one of your charges either,” she snapped.
He huffed. “Never mind. Let’s get another drink.”
Thomas stood in the midspace outside the parlour where the princess was joined for her weekly visit by the king’s attendant. The princess was sat at her easel by the parlour doors and was painting a landscape of the distant woodlands. She appeared to be trying to ignore Victor. It was only his third visit, and she had already tired of him.
“Your father would not
approve of this expressive style of painting,” said Victor. “He would be unhappy if he saw this.”
“Well, I no longer have to worry about what my father would and would not approve of,” she said. “Prince Thomas is happy for me to paint as I wish and unless the king outlaws expressive painting, then I shall do just that.”
“It is clear, Your Highness, that the prince is not disciplining you enough. You would not have spoken to me in this way at the Rexalis guild.”
The princess laughed. “Well, fortunately for me, my husband does not feel the need to control everything I say.”
“The king will not be happy that his daughter is so out of control. You have become quite wild, Your Highness.”
The princess shook her head and continued to paint.
Thomas entered the parlour. “I see we have the pleasure of your company again, Captain. It is an honour as always.” He smirked.
“I am glad you are here, Prince Thomas,” said Victor formally. “You need to attach some boundaries to the princess; she has become positively feral. Her father will be incensed to learn this.”
“Her father need not be concerned, Captain. She lives with me; he does not need to suffer her feral behaviour.”
“The king is still her father and should still have a say in how she is kept. The king would not approve of the freedom she is given to express herself verbally or to paint in this way. It is not feminine.”
“What would you have her paint?”
“Simple pictures—flowers and such. This style of abstract, surreal painting opens up areas of the mind that are most unbecoming for a woman. She should not be at liberty to explore such thoughts and ideas. The king has been careful about what she has been allowed to do, and you are undoing his good work.”
“I see,” Thomas said, taunting Victor. “But, as the princess said, I have no desire to control what she says or thinks and, unless that is a crime, I shall do nothing to change that. Besides, the princess is a talented artist—surely it would be a greater crime to quell that talent.” The princess smiled as she continued her painting. Thomas handed her the parcel he had carried with him “Ramiel has collected the items you requested.”
