“Thank you for your wisdom,” I say, dismissing Morwen while mulling over how I’m possibly going to keep everyone happy.
After sending orders for increased patrols through some of the lesser-traveled mountain passes, I look to the time and rub my eyes. A wiser demon would turn in for the night, recover some of their faculties before another day of difficult decisions. I am known for my strength, not my wisdom.
As I have every night since the Presentation, I finish my administrative work, stand to stretch, and then make my way down to the sparring grounds. The combination of bracing cold and engaging in something Iknowhow to do are the only things helping me cling to my last scrap of sanity.
My breath fogs around me, the ice beneath my feet cracking and melting with each step. When I step into the coliseum, the sounds of sparring weapons clashing feels like home. I take a moment to absorb the sounds, the smell of sweat and determination, the group of demons who are slowly shaping up to be the kind of guard I might trust to protect me.
Not that I can take credit for that in the least.
“Imagine seeing Your Highness here,” Captain Hilduin says as she crosses through one sparring pair after another, her steps effortlessly falling in time so that she flows like a stream around each blow and dodge.
“Since when am I ‘Your Highness’ to you?” I ask over my shoulder while examining the weapons rack.
Hilduin perches with her hip cocked against the wall, one brow arched, her arms folded, no longer the captain I’ve fought countless battles with but rather the friend I’ve shared drinks and losses with. “I don’t know, when will you start acting like him?”
My hand clenches around the practice sword I’ve chosen, my body frozen while I shove down a wave of anger that I know shouldn’t be directed at her.
Hilduin steps forward, her hand covering the practice sword’s hilt and pushing it back to the weapons rack. “Let’s go unarmed. For old time’s sake,” she says with a challenge in her steely eyes.
I hesitate, but she nudges me with the toe of her boot.
“Come on. Let’s show them who’s running things,” she adds, grinning.
There are very few demons in the realm who would willingly engage me in unarmed combat. With my stone spikes and lava fissures, not to mention my sheer size, most need whatever leverage a weapon or shield might provide them. Valenar has his speed and agility, but even he won’t face me without throwing daggers.
As soon as word of our bout reaches the guards, they lose interest in their own matches, slowly forming a wide circle around us, skepticism written on all their faces.
It’s no wonder why, either. Hilduin seems terribly out-matched by the looks of it. She’s strong, and her build doesn’t leave any doubt to how capable she is, but I still dwarf her, and to an outsider, I should be able to snap her in half without much effort.
But Hilduin is more than she appears. She never would have made it to captain in the Wardens if she wasn’t. Anyone with an ounce of sense could figure that out, but figuring andknowingare different things. She isn’t the type to flash or flaunt her abilities, but when we square off, there’s no room for pulling punches, either.
“Captain’s gonna get flattened,” I hear from the crowd.
“I’ll take that bet,” answers another voice.
“Distracted already, Your Highness?” Hilduin taunts, widening her stance.
“You couldn’t be so lucky,” I say, circling with her, neither of us making the first move.
She feints. I don’t fall for it. I swing, she ducks. Token moves. The starting dance. She moves to feint again, but this time follows through, steeling her fist and jabbing me in an old scar.
I bite back a wince, heat flaring through me as she chuckles.
So we’re fighting dirty already? She only knows about that tender spot because it’s a souvenir from a battle we fought together.
Squaring my shoulders, I lower my head and charge her. Hilduin dodges, but slips on the ice and struggles to regain her footing. In that small window of opportunity, I move to strike again.
She’s ready for the blow, a solid metallic clang echoing around the sparring ground as my spiked knuckles connect with her steelskin. The impact reverberates up my arm, and I lose my chance to grapple her.
“Still the same old tricks,” I grumble, shaking out my hand, narrowing my gaze at her. She can only maintain the steelskinon one portion of her body at a time, and only for a short while. If I can trick her into guarding the wrong part, I could actually land a hit.
“And yet you still fall for them,” she grins.
Steam from ice melting around my feet hisses, making her chuckle.
“No better at hiding your tells, either,” she says with a taunting lilt that makes the space around us warmer.
The jeers and goading from the guards washes over me, none of it registering. I’m too focused. This is where I belong. In battle, using my strength, fighting those who’d stand in my way. Not up in a tower, hands tied by civility and decorum, feeling outwitted at every turn.
