Of Blood and Deceit

by Rachel A. Collett

  I had no desire to inspect the room, or to see the other material delights encased within the boudoir. I was Princess Ilianna. I was cursed to be feared. To be hated. Which is why Riaan and his brother would be better suited to run my kingdom.

  When Sameen arrived, she pulled my hair high and braided it down the center of my skull until it stopped at my waist. Mikael remained just outside the room, and together we left for the training yards. It was a familiar walk, and for a time, a comforting one. But it wasn’t Melia that waited with a smile and a fight at the other end of the walk. It would be the king and a long line of men that probably hated me—me, my king, and my country. Not that I could blame them, especially with the rumor that I had killed Riaan and Castiel’s father.

  Everything had changed. The walls of the castle pushed against me, more heavily than any cell my uncle could put me in. With Castiel and Melia gone, I was nothing more than a murderer. The training room was eerily empty, the weapons put neatly away in their appropriate places. Our steps echoed against bare floors as we crossed the room to the exit. Mikael threw the doors wide.

  The familiar smell of fresh hay, grass, and leather filled my senses but did little to soothe my nerves when faced with the sight of an army. My legs stopped on their own accord. Mikael moved into the line of warriors to stand at attention with his comrades.

  “Just in time.” I inhaled a sharp breath as King Riaan’s voice came directly behind me. How had I not heard his approach? He circled to stand in front of me and bowed low, but his blue eyes never left mine. He wore black leather breeches, a white tunic, and a leather belt decorated with two ornately carved knives “You do us a great honor, Your Highness.”

  “What is this about?” I asked, scanning the full yard.

  He peered over his shoulder to the line of soldiers and smiled. “The seer was adamant about this particular course of action, as well as many others.” He cleared his throat. “And I, a humble servant, obeyed.” He reached out with one arm and waited for me to take it, which I did. It was the first time I had ever touched the king of Anolyn. His muscles were hard beneath his tunic, and standing so close, he was even taller than I thought. A fine specimen for sure, but he paled in comparison to his brother.

  My face blushed at the thought, and the king noticed.

  His brows pinched together in artificial concern. “You seem flushed, Princess Ilianna. Are you well?”

  “I am perfectly well, thank you, good king.” I lowered my voice. “I assume they believe I killed your father?”

  He leaned down to bring his mouth closer to my ear. I braced against the desire to bolt and froze when his breath caressed my cheek. “They have been properly enlightened. Don’t worry.”

  I looked to the ground. “You’re too kind, Your Majesty.”

  He guided me toward his audience but stopped several yards away. “Princess Ilianna of Eira, may I introduce you to the pride of the kingdom, the great men and women of Anolyn’s army.”

  As if on cue, the squad of soldiers called in one great shout. The sound echoed on the expansive yard and rang through my ears. My heart rattled within my chest.

  I scanned the line, my sight catching upon the king’s assassin. She stood away from the rest in soldiers’ garb, curves vanished beneath heavy leathers and exposed weapons. Her flexed arms crossed tightly, and her dark hair pulled back in an unflattering twist at the base of her neck. I ignored her and continued my inspection. In the sea of men, I only counted seven women. Whether there were more in the deployed troops I didn’t know, but it seemed far fewer than Eira’s. Something to improve upon, for sure.

  I took a deep breath. This is what I was used to. My uncle had done this before every battle ever fought. I was a talisman, my uncle had said. Despite the anxiety that drew upon my breath, I fought my instinct to shut down.

  “King Johan of Eira desires that we set down our weapons of war and has offered up his only niece in good faith as mediator to start negotiations. By my order, she is not to be harmed. You will treat her with respect and honor this peace.”

  He nodded to me and I responded.

  “I am grateful for this opportunity,” I said, my voice more timid than I wanted. I cleared my throat and spoke louder. “The uniting of our kingdoms is far overdue.” And improbable, if my uncle had anything to do with it.

  The king nodded. “As many of you already know, there are whispers of the dark power from overseas—that the time for the Wraith Queen’s return is upon us. Now more than ever, we must set aside all differences as we once did and combine forces to combat this terror.”

  Response rippled through the ranks, though good or bad, I couldn’t tell. Guilt rang within my chest. For the sake of these people, I hoped I was wrong and that my uncle truly did want peace. But it didn’t matter. I would kill Johan, and the brothers would bring that peace no matter what.

  “Princess Ilianna, do you think the Wraith Queen will tremble beneath the force of my army?”

  I tipped my head higher and peered down the lines, knowing my answer. “They are impressive, indeed. But do they fight as good as they look? Will they be able to defend against the Wraith’s demonic horde?”

  The king smiled. “Only one way to find out.”

  With a signal, the warriors spanned open to create a great semi-circle. The shuffling of boots and crunch of dirt beneath a swell of militia increased my anticipation. Stage complete, two men stepped into the center. Both carried wooden training swords and a practice shield. They bowed to one-another, then they charged. A fantastic battle ensued. I was drawn in, mesmerized by the clash of their weapons and brute strength. The cheers of the surrounding soldiers sent a wave of nostalgia coursing through me. There was so much that separated our two countries, but this… this we had in common. The call of battle, the smell of blood, sweat, and dirt, the duty to king and country… they were the same in every land, and it was wonderful.

  The battle came to an end. I matched the king’s enthusiasm and cheered for the victor. Several battles followed, each more intense than the one before. It was a brilliant display, and I was eager for more. An easy hour passed before a break in the exercise.

  “What do you think, Princess Ilianna?” the king asked with a wave of his hand.

  I nodded with a lift of my brows. “These men are expertly trained. A remarkable show of talent and skill. Did you train them yourself, Your Majesty?”

  He walked the semi-circle of soldiers. “There was a time when I did, when I shared the barracks with my fellow soldiers, drank and ate from their tables, fought side by side… but my time is now spent elsewhere.”

  I nodded, turning a circle. “It’s to be expected. A king cannot always remain on top, and the older you get, the more your champions will lead your great army.”

  A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Are you challenging the king, Princess?” Riaan asked. Whispers between soldiers grew as they sized me up against their leader.

  I covered my heart with a hand. “I? I am only a girl, far from your equal in battle, but rumors of your greatness spread even through Eira. But perhaps others would be afraid to win against their king out of fear of punishment.”

  That got a few whispers and more laughs as I played to the crowd.

  Even Riaan chuckled. “But how can I back down to such a challenge?” He turned to his warriors, his arms uplifted. “One hundred gold pieces and an upgrade in rank to the individual cunning enough to defeat me.” Another murmur rippled through the crowd, but still no one stepped forward. He spoke louder. “Do not be afraid, my brothers and sisters. I have always cheered your progress.”

  Finally, a soldier moved into the ring. The size of Reese, the volunteer stretched his large arms. His eyes held a cunning to them that worried me for the sake of Riaan. “I accept your challenge.”

  A King’s Challenge

  Again, the king smiled. Suddenly, he whipped off his shirt and snatched a weapon from the nearest rack.

  I tried to a
void admiring at the way his muscles rippled with every smooth move the king deployed, but I failed. The heavy clunk of the practice swords beat along with my heart, faster and faster with every strike. I watched in awe Riaan’s precision and grace in motion. He saw every move and found every open weakness. Before the battle could really begin, it was over.

  Another opponent leaped into the ring, and then another. Five challengers in all—including one woman. Each wielded a different weapon. A sword, a knife, a staff, an ax. He dispatched them all. The fifth and final match was arm-to-arm combat.

  The new soldier was several inches shorter than Riaan, and even more skinny, but something told me not to underestimate him. Faster than the lash of a whip, the competitor lunged, landing a punch to the king’s jaw. Riaan barely moved in time to block a second hit, but then he had the man’s arm in a lock, twisting it up and behind his back. The man countered with a solid elbow. Riaan stumbled toward the line of soldiers, freezing everyone in their place. Blood leaked from a split in the king’s lip. And he grinned.

  Riaan tore forward.

  The man leaped back, but he wasn’t quick enough. The king landed a solid uppercut that sent him flying. He rolled, barely making his feet in time for Riaan’s next attack. The battle lasted twice the length of the others, but still ended the same. The soldier fell to the hard ground on his back, his wrist still in the king’s masterful grip. The man tapped the dirt to show his defeat.

  The crowd roared their approval of their king. Riaan raised his hands high above his head, the sweat of battle glistening from every pore. Blood had dried on his lip and chin, but the king didn’t seem to notice—or maybe it was his trophy. I almost laughed at his proud display.

  Riaan turned, his hands upon his hips to watch my response to his victory. One brow raised.

  I laughed and then clapped my approval. “Truly, you are amazing.”

  “And what about you, Princess Ilianna?” Mikael’s voice rang out above the rest, effectively silencing everyone. He walked through the crowd of men, his sight trained on me. “Maybe you cannot stand against the king of Anolyn, but what about a lowly soldier?”

  I lifted my hand to the others. “I see nothing lowly about these warriors. I’m honored to witness such a display.”

  “Pretty words, pretty words, Princess. But come now...” Mikael stepped into the ring. “Friends, we have the Scourge of Men here, right in our very own training yard. Surely, she has some techniques she could show us. Some new moves known only to Eira.”

  Both cheers and scoffs erupted, and my heart nearly exploded. The sneer on Mikael’s lips spoke volumes. This would be no friendly competition, but I had no choice. The king now lounged on the ground, leaning languidly upon his hands, completely unconcerned by the hostility oozing from his personal guard. He tipped his head to nod his acceptance.

  Adrenaline raced through my veins. “Very well.”

  Mikael pulled off his shirt, stretching a barrel-chest and arms bigger than my waist.

  First the king, and now his guard. Was it an intimidation tactic to take off one’s clothes before a fight? Whether to intimidate me or annoy, it worked both ways.

  His tattoos danced to his movements. I couldn’t help but stare at the artwork, which looked almost alive. A sea of black ink moved to his muscular rhythm. Dark ocean waves beat upon two magnificent and detailed ships, both with swarthy captains at their helms. An angry falcry decorated one corner of his shoulder and chest; its feathers stretched down his arm, coming just past his wrist. A mermaid adorned the other. Beneath the ships, just at the navel, the artist of this oceanic scene had inked a whale that disappeared beyond the line of his breeches.

  Was he once part of the king’s navy?

  “There’s a lot more to me than what you see, Princess.” Mikael’s voice cut in to my thoughts, and I flinched.

  One corner of his mouth tipped high as he regarded me. I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I was sure I didn’t want to know.

  My legs shook as I walked, but I refused to allow anyone to see the anxiety dripping from my very soul. Even though out of practice, I had done this hundreds of times before. Melia had allowed me to train, but never with weapons—wooden or otherwise. I focused on the rack of practice swords and chose one good for my smaller frame.

  The stick was light, the grip a nice fit. The weight was easy enough for me to manage in one hand. I twirled it once, and again, maneuvering it to get the feel. I stroked its dulled blade; its sanded edge soothed. I breathed in the scent of it, of the yard, and closed my eyes.

  Someone cleared his throat behind me, impatient for battle, but I ignored him. The sword felt alive in my grasp—

  Suddenly, I recognized something else, something I had never felt before because I didn’t know how until Castiel and Melora’s potion. Although the awareness was not as strong without the elixir, I could sense the connection to my sword. I spun it around, again swinging it in my grip. I tested its balance. Through my touch the weapon’s energy coursed within me, strange and invigorating. A tingling sensation traveled down the length of my arm.

  Had I always been able to do it before, or had Melora’s potion woken the power inside me? Confidence pulsed. “Shall we wager on this fight?” I asked, my back to him.

  Mikael grunted. “Gambling is for the weak who trust luck instead of skill.”

  I rolled my eyes and faced him. “Are you always such a bore?”

  He spun, yielding a powerful strike with his weapon. It clanked against mine, reverberating painfully up my arm. And I smiled. My answering parry had him stumbling back.

  Noise erupted as soldiers called out to their leader. Energy vibrated through the room, alive, warm, and familiar. I twirled my wrist, spinning my sword in a fluid circle. My joints were stiff, but this was my calling. This was what I was good at. The crowd pulsed with both excitement and trepidation. Mikael walked the circle, working his muscles. He rotated his sword deftly in a figure-eight, then attacked again.

  His strength was impressive, but he was not fast. His muscles impeded agility. I deflected his next heavy blow in time and kicked away, planting my foot in his gut but its effect worked against me and I stumbled backward. Already, weakness threatened the joints in my knees. I barely managed to keep my feet before he attacked again. An upward block deflected his next strike—but I would not be able to match him for long. I had to work fast.

  I leaped back, distancing myself from his offensive reach. Blood and energy surged into the palms of my hands, warming stiff arms. Shifting back, I drew my sword in tight and stacked one fist atop the next.

  On his next attempt I lunged forward and dropped to my knee, ducking beneath his heavy swing. I spun, lifting my sword, and the blade sliced behind his knee.

  He roared at the point loss and paced away to glare at me.

  I was in trouble. This was more than a simple competition. It was there in his eyes, but there was nothing to do about it. Siana had moved to her king’s side to whisper something in his ear. They watched unaware of the threat in Mikael’s gaze.

  Mikael ran at me and dropped a downward blow so powerful it worked against him. Energy coursed through me, connecting me to my weapon. I twisted my wrist, rotating the blade around his to glide up his sword. I sliced beneath his armpit, then whirled fast, swiping at his middle.

  I had won.

  Riaan stood and clapped his congratulations, but there was no approval in his eyes. From my periphery, I spied Generals Vega and Dag as they crossed the yard, their expressions blank.

  The soldiers groaned, but others laughed and even cheered for my victory.

  Mikael tossed his wood sword to the front-line soldiers and pulled a knife from the sheath at his side. Sunlight reflected upon the sharpened metal. I backed away and glanced at Riaan. General Vega was at his side to whisper something in his ear, momentarily distracting him.

  And Mikael took that advantage. With a covert jerk of his head, the soldiers finished the circle, effectively blocking t
he view. I doubted the king would notice. In fact, I was sure the generals were in on this little scheme.

  My pulse quickened as my heart raced near out of control. I eyed the steel in his hand. “What are you doing?”

  His face was hard as stone. “Showing everyone just exactly who you are.”

  “And what’s that?” I asked.

  “An enemy.”

  The muscles beneath my eye twitched. “And if I refuse?”

  He huffed a laugh. “I’m not giving you that choice.”

  “You’re a fool.” I spat, then held my arms out wide. “Would you attack someone unarmed?”

  He blindly reached with one hand and a soldier slapped a dagger into his waiting palm. With the flick of Mikael’s wrist, the blade impaled the dirt in front of me.

  I lowered to pick it up but kept him in my sight. “Very well. Best hurry it up before the king realizes what’s going on.”

  We circled each other. Every step deliberate. Steady. Contempt painted Mikael’s face a violent shade of red. This was personal to him. He needed to prove a point. What that was I didn’t know, but that would be his number one weakness.

  The soldiers crowded closer together, sending a wave of claustrophobia over me, nearly dousing my courage, but I shifted my step and crouched low.

  No one cheered as Mikael lunged.

  I stepped sideways to deflect his attack with a downward swipe. He jumped back as I advanced, then spun into me, his fist colliding with the side of my head.

  I fell to the dirt, hard. My mind whirled with the impact, but I quickly rolled from the ground and sprang to my feet.

  He was too strong.

  I changed my focus. On his next attack, I ducked in close, blocking his wrist with my guard arm and hit his hand with the butt off my blade. The knife knocked from his grasp and thudded to the earth. With all my leftover strength, I shot upward with a hard uppercut to his chin. A satisfying crack sounded, but that satisfaction didn’t last long before I was blasted away by a heavy frontal kick.