by N.D. Bailey
Meanwhile, Nuvatian had walked down to the tree where Nadora was grooming her horse. “You told me to come back when I could ride again,” he said, approaching the princess from behind.
Looking over her left shoulder, she replied, “Well then, let’s ride.”
He stepped beside her and petted her horse. “Actually, I’m not here to ride.” Shifting his focus from the horse to her iridescent eyes (now taking on a brighter color green than he had ever noticed), Nuvatian ran his hand across her windblown hair while explaining his presence at the castle. “Last night Ridahs of Quadar pursued me.”
“Ridahs of Quadar? Within Sayir?” Her voice was calm as she adjusted the bow strapped to her back and brushed his hair away from her face. She had just finished shooting only moments before.
“Not far from the castle,” he continued. “I could not tell how many there were. Nadora, I know you are an exceptionally skilled archah, but please be careful. I would feel bettah if you would stay on castle grounds. We are assigning extra knights to the castle grounds to secure the safety of all in the palace while we search for who has the Sword of Dahvan.”
“Stay on castle grounds?” She was indignant. “And what makes you think that I will not be among those searching for the Sword of Darvan?”
“You’re the princess. You are royalty and your life must be guarded and treated as such. You are the only heir.”
“Because I am royalty, I have an even greatah responsibility to my country and my people. If I die serving my country, then so be it; I will have done what is right.”
“But it’s not your place to do the work of the knights.”
“I AM a knight!” She was steaming mad as she mounted her horse.
“I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I stand no more chance of being injahed than do you. In fact, you stand a bettah chance at being injahed than I do, according to the little match we had the othah day,” she crowed.
“Oh, you really think you beat me. I was taking it easy on you because I didn’t want to huht someone I was uncertain about.”
“Oh really! So you let me put my sword to your neck and to your groin? Somehow I have trouble believing that,” she snapped.
“You were wearing full ahmah.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered.” She took up the reigns and spurred her horse.
As she kicked her horse into a full run, her father, still looking out the window and talking with Windsor and Gilmanza, murmured, “See what I mean?”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” laughed Windsor. “I don’t think you’re going to have to worry about her. I think she can handle herself when it comes to young men.”
“Yes, it’s him I’m worried about,” said the king.
Windsor laughed. “Perhaps she will soften over time.”
“She’s just like I was when I was young—stubborn,” the king said, sighing. Then changing the subject he offered, “Well, what about I teach you three my new board game, Chess?”
“Well, we don’t have anything bettah to do while we wait on lunch, do we, Gilmanza?”
“Can’t think of anything. Let’s play.”
Angry by what Nadora had said, Nuvatian watched her ride off, and then mocked her words in a falsetto voice: “I stand no more chance of being injahed than do you. In fact, you stand a bettah chance at being injahed than I do, accordin’ to the little match we had the othah day.’ Princesses! They’re always so bloody arrogant,” he muttered as he walked toward the barn to check on his horse’s ankle.
