Kiva’s gaze drifted to where Auma was piling dishes at an empty table, some of her frustration ebbing. I hid a smile as I said, “I’ll be fine if you want to wait here.”
A very uncharacteristic blush turned her cheeks pink, and she nodded, likely all too happy to go anywhere Ericen wasn’t.
I followed the prince, catching the gaze of one of the soldiers near the fireplace: the boy who’d commented on my scars at dinner. He smiled dangerously. I smiled back until he looked away with a scowl.
The door led out into the courtyard, immediately surrounding me in biting air. I folded my arms over my chest for warmth. Ericen didn’t even seem to notice the chill as he led the way into a massive training area.
There were several distinct sections, from open arenas to archery targets, sword training to endurance courses. Soldiers trained in each one, shouts and the clangs of metal echoing in the courtyard.
On the far side, an open door revealed the empty healer’s quarters. Estrel had once said that Illucian soldiers looked down on healers. Apparently, getting treatment for a wound was akin to throwing your honor into the dirt and stomping on it. It would take a severe injury for soldiers to willingly subject themselves to treatment.
“Saints,” I breathed.
“These are the royal training grounds,” Ericen said. “If you think this is a bit much, you should see the ones at Darkward.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to. There was something about the swift efficiency of every soldier wherever I looked that made me uneasy. No matter their task, they completed it with the utmost power and skill, driving arrows into targets or pinning their opponents without mercy.
The ones who weren’t training stared at us, some with open fascination, some with suspicion. It was the ones who looked disgusted that made me bristle though. Ericen noticed them too, though from the way his expression changed, it seemed he thought they were looking at him. He stared them down, his eyes like jagged ice, until they looked away. He didn’t relax.
“Anyway, I wanted to show you in case you and Kiva wanted to train,” he said, his voice a little tighter now. “It’ll be pretty busy with people training for the upcoming Centerian.”
I stiffened. “The sword tournament?”
He nodded, and the morning chill permeated my skin. The Centerian only occurred every five years. Illucia’s most dangerous fighters would descend on Sordell to participate in the test of strength and skill. The renown for winning the tournament was unprecedented.
And here I’d thought Illucia couldn’t get any more dangerous.
“Also, I was thinking we could skip dinner tonight and go into town.” Ericen’s voice drew me from thoughts of ice-cold eyes and glinting steel.
“Yes.” My eagerness surprised me as much as Ericen, but I already needed a break from Razel. Kiva had said she was impressed at how I’d handled myself last night, but I still wasn’t Caliza. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t let a few choice words slip. Or a knife.
“I’ll send someone for you this evening then.”
I nodded, turning to go, and almost ran smack into a black wall. My hand went reflexively to my bow as I stepped back, finding two men in Vykryn uniforms blocking my path. The one in the front smiled—the boy from dinner. He was near my age, broad shouldered but lean with blond hair and royal-blue eyes.
My guard shifted, on edge. Then the soldiers parted, revealing Razel approaching.
I stiffened. The smell of burnt flesh, a flash of fire, Kiva yelling—Stop. I couldn’t lose myself in bloody memories every time I saw her.
The training grounds quieted as soldiers saluted. Ericen stiffened, his attention jumping from the blond Vykryn to his mother. Razel drew to a halt before us, cold eyes focused on me. She wore a gilded version of a Vykryn’s uniform, her rose-gold hair pulled back in a tight braid and weapons strapped to her back.
“Thia dear, I see you’ve found the training grounds. If you’d like, I could have one of our masters tutor you.”
The blond Vykryn snorted amusedly.
My nails dug into my palms. “I’ve already been trained by the best.”
A smile curled her lips. “In that case, perhaps we could spar? Illucian skill versus Rhodairen…determination.” She said the last word slowly, the unsaid message clear: At least you try.
Logic told me to say no. Razel was the queen of Illucia, the leader of a warrior kingdom. Caliza’d said she had won the Centerian at barely a few years older than me. But at the same time, I longed for the chance to take out the anger and hatred boiling in the pit of my stomach. Even if I only got one blow in, it would be worth it.
I smiled. “I’d love to.”
“No.” Ericen stepped forward. The blond Vykryn’s attention snapped to him, and Ericen stared him down. Something silent smoldered between them.
Razel raised an eyebrow. “What was that, Eri dear?”
“Yeah,” I growled. “What was that?”
“I’ll fight you in her place.” Ericen didn’t even acknowledge I’d spoken. He’d angled himself so his back was toward me.
Razel chuckled. “This isn’t a duel. No one needs to fight in her place. We’re just going to have a friendly spar.”
“With weapons,” Ericen said, and something dangerous glinted behind Razel’s eyes. This was a different Ericen altogether. The hard, angry one, who had looked like an imposter in his mother’s embrace.
“If you insist,” Razel said. “Sorry, Thia dear. He’s so demanding sometimes.”
Ericen didn’t spare me so much as a glance before stalking over to one of the fighting rings. I watched him go, scowling. Razel followed after the prince, the two Vykryn on her heels.
Someone stepped up beside me, and I flinched.
Kiva raised an eyebrow. “Jumpy. Guess that’s to be expected when you challenge death to a duel.”
I rolled my eyes. “She just wanted to spar.”
Kiva gave me a long look. “Don’t be naïve. Razel would have laid you out just so you knew she could.”
I gritted my teeth as we followed the group over to the sparring ring Razel and Ericen had entered. He had his dual short swords in hand, she a pair of curved, dome-shaped blades with small spikes sticking out from the edges of the grip. Jin moonblades.
Anyone else, I’d have said she used the moonblades because she liked them. But this was Illucia. Using those blades sent a message: I own these.
The soldiers who’d stopped to watch stood at Razel’s side of the ring, clearly staking their support.
“Shearen,” Razel said, indicating the blond guard. “If you would.”
“On one!” Shearen called. “Three, two—”
Razel lunged before he finished the second number. Ericen had anticipated it, catching the first strike of both her moonblades on one sword. They executed swift and merciless attacks, metal ringing in a shrill call. Razel clearly had an edge in speed, Ericen in strength.
People started to gather around the training ring, forming a circle. There were calls of support and whistles for the queen, Shearen’s voice rising above the rest. My guard pressed closer to my back, hand on the hilt of his sword.
The fighters struck and parried, twirled and dipped, each avoiding close calls from the other’s blades. Ericen barreled through his attacks like a man dead set on proving himself, while Razel’s every strike made it clear she aimed to injure. Her eyes gleamed with a strange dark fire, as if Ericen were a demon she fought for her very soul.
As she blocked one of Ericen’s attacks, she ducked under his follow-up strike and sprang up, driving her elbow into Ericen’s chin. He stumbled back, barely bringing a sword around to knock aside the thrust of her blade. The ferocity of her attack struck the sword from his hand, leaving him with one.
Off balance, it was all Ericen could do to keep up with her torrent of strikes. She struck high and low,
forcing him to cover a wide range and expose new targets. Right as she sliced at his neck, she swept low with her foot, catching him in the knees. He struck the ground hard, and she leapt over him, driving her weapon down.
Ericen just managed to get his sword around to deflect the blade. It shot down and away, the metal screaming. The blade sliced across his cheek. He didn’t make a sound. Razel straightened, hovering over him like a wolf over a fresh kill, blood dripping from the curve of one blade. They held each other’s gazes, unmoving. Then she smiled, stepping off him.
Ericen rolled to the side as the crowd clapped. His eyes met mine for half a second, the cut stretching from his jaw to cheekbone leaking blood. The realization of what I’d nearly gotten myself into slammed into me, and I sucked in a ragged breath.
The prince shot to his feet and grabbed his other sword. He sheathed them both and slipped out of the ring. I started to go after him, but Kiva seized my arm before I could move an inch. Then she casually slipped in front of me. “Razel’s watching.”
“So what?” I hissed.
“Do you want her to challenge you again?”
The tension washed out of me. “No.” Not after what I’d just seen. If she could take down Ericen like that, I wouldn’t last a second, as rusty as I was.
Razel exited the ring, sliding her moonblades into their sheaths on her back with smooth precision. She hadn’t even cleaned the blood. She caught my gaze, the challenge pulsating in the air between us. Then she smiled and turned back for the castle.
A chill trickled down my spine—this wasn’t over. Razel had come to make a power play, and Ericen had intervened. She would find another way.
Thirteen
A couple of hours later, Ericen and I sat in a carriage heading down Sordell’s main street. The rain had let up, and though the sky hadn’t cleared, patches of stars shone overhead. Beneath them, Illucian citizens mixed almost indecipherably with soldiers in the streets.
Ericen wore his Vykryn uniform, and I’d changed into a dress along with a thin leather coat and boots. The prince didn’t say a word. When he’d left the arena, he hadn’t gone to the healer’s quarters to get the wound bandaged. It had stopped bleeding, however, the cut much shallower than I’d thought.
I studied him as he studied the city outside. Why had he intervened with Razel? Had he been that eager for a fight with his mother, or had he known I wouldn’t be prepared? Either way, I couldn’t shake the feeling something had shifted between us.
As the door opened, Ericen met my gaze for the first time, and I raised an eyebrow. “I can tell this is going to be a very productive meal.”
He smiled in the way that made me think he might not be as horrid as he seemed. “Stealing my lines is a cheap move.”
“You’re not worth more effort in this state.”
“Fair point. I shall endeavor to be more infuriating.” He stepped out of the carriage, offering me his hand. I climbed out on my own.
We stood at the opening of a massive bridge, easily the width of five normal roads. The river it spanned was nearly double that, with several arches along the bridge’s length letting water through in a multipronged waterfall. Colorful lights reflected off even more colorful buildings, casting a rainbowlike glow across the water. The bridge was a part of the city itself, like the creators had met the river and continued building right across it.
“People call it the Colorfalls. A hundred years ago, the bridge was a gift from Rhodaire to cross the River Ren,” Ericen said as we started toward the bridge. “It was made with the help of your earth crows. All the city’s best food is here.”
Though it seemed strange to imagine, it made sense that Rhodaire and Illucia might not have always hated each other. When had that changed?
The cobblestone street sidewalks were damp from the rain, but people were still out in full force. Giant potted trees lined the street, hung with shards of colored glass reflecting the lantern light. Shops sold everything from thick sheep wool sweaters and scarves to blocks of peat bundled together with dried herbs for different aromas. We passed the open doors of restaurants, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and cooking stew. From a tavern to our right, the music of a string instrument filled the night.
Hanging overhead, strung from one side of the buildings to the next all along the street, dangled countless colored sona lamps. They had glass of deep crimson and purple, bright gold and sunset orange, all casting brightly colored glows on the stone buildings.
I stared at the colors. Sona lamps weren’t cheap; we barely had enough to light the main castle halls in Aris.
This was what conquering kingdoms gave you: wealth and technology.
Without a reliance on magic, Illucia had found other ways to stay competitive. Maybe that was why everything here was so clean, so crisp, as if the city had been newly built. It was beautiful but cold, and I longed for the soul and authenticity of Aris. We may not have sona lamps at every corner or walkways of stone and manicured streets, but at least it felt real.
Ericen led the way to an empty hole-in-the-wall restaurant in the middle of the bridge. The man who greeted us bowed deeply before seating us at a table by the window. He returned a few moments later with cups of water and a bottle of Trendellan wine, pouring us each a glass.
I eyed the wine. “I thought Trendell didn’t trade with Illucia.”
Ericen hesitated a moment before responding. “They don’t.”
Which meant this wine had been stolen. Maybe even from shipments to Rhodaire.
I pushed the glass aside. “This city’s so clean and organized. Does your army patrol the streets righting overturned flowerpots and straightening askew signs?”
“Only the particularly crooked ones,” he replied, and a traitorous smile tugged at my lips. Ericen’s eyes grew warm as he said, “People take a lot of pride in Sordell. My mother doesn’t tolerate laziness. Everyone in the city has a job or supports the kingdom in some way.”
“She sounds like a military commander.”
“She is.” He smirked at the surprise that flitted across my face. “Darkward is also Sordell’s school. All children attend from five until sixteen, when they can either finish the final two years or pick another trade. Over half the city stays committed, but only the best are chosen as Vykryn.”
My gaze dropped to the golden horse head symbol on his chest. Like him.
“No one’s afforded more respect in Illucia than soldiers, except maybe the masters at Darkward. But my mother was trained like every queen and king before her, both to rule and to lead an army in battle. She’s the Valix, leader of the Vykryn, and I will be after her.” He straightened, as if bolstered by his own words.
It made sense. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Razel astride one of those massive Illucian warhorses, prepared to destroy an entire kingdom.
“You’re glowering again.”
I straightened, blinking rapidly. “What?”
“Whenever we discuss my mother, you get that look on your face.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, and I hurriedly took a sip of water to cover it. Clearly, I hadn’t yet gained Caliza’s level of controlling my emotions in front of people.
“Yeah, well. I have a lot to think about.”
Ericen’s smile faded. “I know this must be hard for you. Being here with us. Constantly.”
I almost dropped my water glass. He looked so genuine, sounded so convincing, as if he might actually care how I felt. A laugh bubbled in my throat at the thought.
He had stepped in to fight Razel for me, and so far, he’d shown me every courtesy since arriving, but caring seemed more than a little unlikely.
“It doesn’t help that I never know which prince I’m talking to,” I replied. “You’ve been practically civil. You’re about due for a flippant comment.”
I expected sarcasm but instead found him
weighing me with thoughtful eyes. “I don’t want to be your enemy, Anthia.”
I froze. Surely, I hadn’t heard him right. “What?”
He drew a finger along the intricate design in the tablecloth. “I meant what I said in the carriage. I’m not quite so bad as you think. The things I said to you in Rhodaire—” He stopped, jaw clenching as if to hold back the words. In the end, he simply said, “I regret them.”
I bit my lip. My instinct was to believe him. Kiva always said I was too quick to trust people. She was right, but sometimes I was too. Her mother had raised her to question everything and doubt everyone. I always told myself she was doing as she was trained, that she was being protective. But listening to myself talk with a boy who was supposed to be my enemy, feeling myself begin to trust him, I doubted myself.
“You don’t believe me,” Ericen said.
“I don’t understand you. Your mother hates me. She hates Rhodaire. All Illucians do. How could you want to be friends?” Razel had organized Ronoch for revenge. The last war between our kingdoms before I was born had claimed my father’s life, but it had also resulted in the death of part of Razel’s family. Her father hadn’t lasted long after, and she’d been crowned queen as young as Caliza had been. Didn’t Ericen care about any of that?
As much as I hated Razel, hated Illucia, that much I understood. Her need for revenge was the same one that burned in my chest every time I looked at her.
Ericen held my gaze. “I’m a Vykryn, and I’ll be Valix after my mother. I serve Illucia, and I serve her.” He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “But I don’t condone what she did to Rhodaire, or Jindae, or the Ambriels. I don’t believe the world is ours to take.”
He’s a loyal soldier. Ericen accepted his place and obeyed orders, and he cared about Illucia and its people, but I was starting to think he didn’t fit. Perhaps he wasn’t the man he’d been pretending to be when I first met him, at least not completely. Was that why his soldiers didn’t respect him? Why the people on the streets barely inclined their heads, if they noticed him at all? Because he wasn’t the Illucian prince they wanted.
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