I disarm him every time.
Eventually, sweat threads his hair. He abandoned his jacket long ago, and a few stripes of blood decorate his sleeves when neither of us could deflect quickly enough. I want to suggest returning to the armory for training blades, but I think he really would kill me.
But as time passes … he begins to compensate. His stance changes as he tries different angles. He’s begun to learn my movements. The arrogant frustration has slipped away, revealing a cool focus.
Before I’m ready, he blocks, swings, gets inside my guard, and ends with his sword against my throat.
We’re both breathing hard. I lift my hands. “I yield.”
He sheathes the blade, then runs a hand across his face. He has to lift the hem of his shirt to wipe away the sweat. When he speaks, his voice is quiet. “Thank you, Tycho.” He hesitates, then glances at me. “There haven’t been this many people at Ironrose in ages. After everything we’ve learned about the Truthbringers, I’ve worried that my closeness to Grey would make me …”
His voice trails off. I frown. “Would make you what?”
“A liability. I can’t fight like I once did.”
Maybe he really did want to get away from the castle as badly as I did. “You will,” I say. “With practice. Again?”
“I’d rather finish while I don’t feel like acompletefailure. I’m going to be sore for days as it is.” He swipes at his face again, then drops to sit in the grass. He peers up at me. “Why didn’t you enter the competition? You’re very good.”
I shrug and drop to sit in the grass beside him. “I had a good teacher.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” says Rhen.
I shake my head. It was bad enough sparring with Jacob a few weeks ago. Fighting in a competition in front of the king would be ten times worse. “It felt inappropriate.”
“You didn’t ask anything about Grey.”
I’m not sure I want any answers. “That feels inappropriate, too.”
“You know I took your warnings seriously. For what it’s worth, Grey did as well. But I’ve spent long hours watching the competition in Alek’s presence. He speaks highly of the queen, and his worries about magic seem genuine. He’s either very clever or very innocent.”
I frown and wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.
A cool wind sweeps between the trees, bringing a light drizzle of rain. In our time out here, poor weather has moved in again.
Rhen looks up at the sky. “We should return. My guards will come looking.”
“As you say.” I sigh and uncurl from the ground, then whistle for Mercy. I wait for him to have the bridle over Ironwill’s head before I say, “Your Highness?”
He looks up.
I leap into my saddle. “I’ll race you back.”
We fly through the woods again, cold rain stinging my eyes. This all feels a bit reckless, but the footing is sure, and I can hear his horse nottoo far behind me. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy something simple. My heart feels lighter than it has inweeks.
Then we burst out of the woods and slam right into a group of men and women on horseback—guards from Emberfall and Syhl Shallow.
“Whoa!” I sit down hard in the saddle, and Mercy responds immediately, skidding in the wet grass, fighting my grip on the reins. The rain is pouring down, soaking us all. The guards shout in surprise, scattering a bit so we don’t collide with anyone.
And of course that leaves Mercy to skid right into the king’s horse, who prances and kicks out, leaving his rider looking aggrieved.
What’s worse is that Alek rides just behind him, astride his own mount. “Have some control of your horse,” he says to me.
If I have to apologize to him, I’m going to do it with a sword. I keep my eyes on the king. “Forgive me,” I say. “Your Majesty.”
Rhen skids to a stop beside me. “You interrupted our race,” he says.
The rain pours down. The king glares at both of us. “I came looking for you both.”
