“You’ve got to be kidding,” Koen says.Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel.“Is this what passes for royal protocol now?”
I clear my throat and pull back my hood. “We went to get chocolate.”
“You were gone for over two hours,” Torin says. “Without a word. What if something happened?”
“Then Lioran would’ve fought them off with candy canes,” I say, grinning.
Lioran just nods cheerfully, making me giggle.
Koen steps forward, eyes narrowing on my box of sweets. “You left the palace. During highly political trials. Forcandy.” I mentally roll my eyes. I’m not sure why he’s pretending thathe cares. He didn’t even choose to be here.
“It’s excellent candy. And we are between trials, so it’s fine,” I reply, waving him off.
Koen mutters something under his breath.
I give him a sugary smile. “Want one?”
He looks at the offered treat like it might be poisoned. “No.”
Lioran nudges him. “You sure? I think it would help with the whole...” He gestures vaguely at Koen’s entire face. “Grumpy forest troll thing you’ve got going on.”
I erupt into laughter, unable to hold it back, and snap my fingers. “Yes! Grumpy forest troll! That’s exactly what he reminds me of!”
Okay, maybe I’ve had too much sugar.
Koenturns slowly. “You’ve got chocolate on your cloak, Princess.”
“It’s part of the outfit.” I shrug.
Torin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just…tell someone next time. Please.”
I huff. “Alright.” Though I’m tempted to point out that if he was standing guard outside my chambers—like he was supposed to be—then he would have already known where I was.
As we walk back toward the palace, I slow slightly, falling in step with Koen. I don’t say anything, just pass him a small wrapped caramel and keep walking.
When I glance back, he is still staring at it. Then, while grumbling, he slowly slips it into his pocket, making me grin.
Chapter 13
?---- Serenya ? ----?
“You’re still leaving your left side open,” I say, circling Koen. My boots thud against the packed dirt of the training yard, the sound almost lost beneath the rhythmic pounding of my heart. It always seems to beat harder than it should when I spar with him.
“I was letting you think that,” Koen mutters, his voice rough with exertion.
“Oh? A strategy based on pretending to be incompetent? Bold.” I tilt my head, watching the way his shoulders roll with tension. He’s getting stronger, faster than I’d expected, but still raw and unpolished.
He lunges—too predictable. I parry easily and let his own momentum betray him, stepping aside just enough to send him stumbling back.
“You call that a feint?” I say. “It seems you’re back to flailing.”
He scowls, jaw tight, and shoves a damp strand of hair off his forehead. There’s a streak of dirt along his temple, a testament to how many times he’s already hit the ground today. “Do you ever get tired of talking down to people?”
“Only when they don’t give me a reason to,” I shoot back, lifting my sword again. My shadows hum faintly beneath my skin, aching to join in, but I keep them contained. This is about skill, not magic. “Ready?”
“I was born ready.”
I arch a brow. “Now,that’sa lie.”
