One of the squires rushes up to me. “It’s not often we get to witness someone from Summer train, especially of your skill, my Prince. It is a most exceptional feat. Please allow me to replace this for you.”
Nodding, I step away from the gravel square. Florendel’s training ground is located on an upper level of Keep Hammergarden, partially covered. Half of it looks over the city to the landscape beyond.
Certainly is beautiful for such a hard people.Below us are the royal gardens. I can see they dragged out old Thalionor for some air. Sun glints off his armored helm, but the rest of him is covered in a thick quilt. A few acolytes mull around him, picking flowers. One of them turns to look up, then lowers her hood.
Wrenley. She smiles and gives me a wave before turning back to the prince. I grasp the string of seashells around my neck, tilting my chin to look at the beautiful golden shell she’d gifted me.It’s fate.I can’t help but drift my gaze to the rolling hills beyond Florendel where two people are walking through a rainbow of wildflowers.
Rosalina and Farron. I take a drag of cold water from my flask. Their movements are delicate, almost as if in a ballet. They’re two small figures on the horizon, no bigger than dolls, but it’s like I can feel the love between them. A dusky pink line blankets the horizon. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been in here. Fare doesn’t care if the sun sets.
Not anymore.
On the other side of the rolling wildflower hill is a bobbing cluster of blue lights. “Those lights over there … Are they—?”
“Ahh, yes. The Lights of Fate.” The squire comes up beside me. “We often see them on the hills. They like the flowers.”
“Lights of Fate,” I repeat, absently rubbing my chest, trying not to think of the last time one of those buggers landed on me. Showed me the tangled mess that is my mate bond. The Spring Realm may have another name for the will-o’-wisps, but I still don’t want to get anywhere near them again.
“I’ve replaced the training equipment, sire.” The squire nods, then retreats.
“How about training against something that fights back?” a voice calls from the entrance. “I think that block of wood is a bit below your skill level.”
A smirk crawls up the corner of my mouth. “I suppose the High Prince of Spring ranks a little higher than wood, but we’ll see by how much.”
Ezryn steps closer. We haven’t spoken since our fight yesterday evening. He’s in his usual helm, though his armor is lighter, looser, good for movement. He swings a large broadsword in one hand. The crowd moves to the edges of the training ground and murmurs with anticipation.
Ezryn turns to them and says, “You are dismissed.”
A laugh booms out of my chest. “Don’t want an audience for your defeat?”
“Only trying to protect the Summer Prince’s reputation.”
I step on to the gravel. Dressed for training, my chest is bare besides a leather wrapping around my waist. Sturdy sandals don my feet. But none of it really matters beside my twin swords. They’re an extension of my arms, as much a part of me as my own hands. I twirl them, wondering how they’ll hold up against that Spring armor.
The Spring Prince is as stoic as ever as he steps forward. “Ready?”
“Always.” I grin.
He rushes me, positioning his sword over his head before bringing it down in a wide arc. Tucking my swords into my chest, I somersault out of the way and come up behind him. Ez may be stronger, but I’m faster. I honed my training in the arena, where I learned to fight with unmatched agility and speed. I’d like to see him duck in that heavy metal.
We’ve sparred countless times before, but something feels different about today. Our disagreement from yesterday still sits in the forefront of my mind.
Eh, better for men like us to fight it out than talk, anyway. Letting out a fierce roar, I smash both my blades against his back. He pitches forward before whirling and catching me across the stomach, leaving a thin red line.
Hissing, I retreat a few steps. We haven’t used practice weapons against each other in years, counting on our quick ability to heal and trusting each other’s skill to never land a truly damaging blow. But damn if it doesn’t sting sometimes.
With a resounding clash, our swords meet again. The impact reverberates through my arms, but I hold my ground. Ezryn’s brute force pushes me back across the loose gravel.
“Just admit it,” I growl.
“Admit what?”
I dance out of the lock. “That your brother is up to something. I’m not going to apologize for saying it.” I strike with precision, aiming for the gaps in his armor.
Ezryn dodges. “I’m not here to talk about Kairyn.”
Frustration grows heavy in my chest. The swords flurry through the air. Sparks erupt each time our blades collide, the sound echoing through the training ground like a battle cry. “Then why are you here?”
Ezryn ignores my question and swings his broadsword in a wide arc, attempting to knock me off balance. I sidestep the attack, my feet moving with the agility of a summer breeze. I strike low, aiming for his exposed leg, but Ez’s reflexes are swift, and he parries.
