Page 21 of The Scent of the Ideal

Katoh nudged his foot under the table so he nodded.

“Excellent.” Viau bestowed a warm smile on them all. “See you tomorrow, then.” He nodded to Rafi, sent another quick look to Ferrin, then left their table to head to a table where three instructors were eating, where he sat down.

“I’d eat at the palace instead of here if I had a choice,” Ferrin remarked.

Laure and Katoh gave him an exasperated look in unison.

“You don’t even know what palace food is like.” Katoh crossed her arms. “Swersoldi probably don’t even eat what the king does. Honestly.”

“He might, though. Cousins, aren’t they?” Ferrin pointed out. “And he’s noble anyway.”

Rafi was noble, but the Tizzan had a country estate without much grandeur, so he had no idea what palace meals might be like.

“He attended the academy. He lives here. He must enjoy the plainer food. Or at least not mind it.”

Rafi’s quiet statement got him some attention from the other three. But before Ferrin could say anything, Laure asked, “Do you think he’d ever spar with me? Or allow me to watch once in a while?” He ignored how his sweetheart echoed “Watch?” while snickering. “I want to see if I can spot what you say he does.”

Rafi moved his gaze from Viau to the others at the table. That was the kind of thing he ought to be thinking about, more than Viau’s smile or a small patch of bared skin. Having influential friends could boost his career, boost their careers as well. Viau probably expected that. That was the nature of things, even away from court.

Rafi still hesitated. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I don’t really know him. I can ask. I think… I suspect anyway, that he’s bored here. So he might be amenable to also giving you some bruises.”

A growl formed in Rafi’s throat and stuck there like a hiccup. His gaze slid back to Viau, who was leaning forward to talk to Instructor Daloit and gesturing with his hands as he did. Daloit was leaning forward to listen.

The hiccup emerged, giving Katoh a start.

“I’ll ask him,” Rafi made himself say quickly so no one would remark on his growling, and then turned around to face Ferrin and ask for his bread crusts.

Sparring on the uneven ground in one of the academy’s smaller courtyards was a challenge. The courses were outside and had obstacles and pits and other traps to watch out for, but most of Rafi’s combat training had been in the Arms Room, where the only thing on the ground to worry about was straw.

The courtyard was large, with swaths of flat ground covered in grass, and small mounds that might have once been earthworks in a garden, and some trees. One of the sides that made up its rectangular shape was an old, old former dormitory that was being slowly dismantled bit by bit whenever a new building required some brick or stone.

That meant the courtyard itself was not busy, especially not in the early hours of morning, but did have students and servants and instructors walking through on their way elsewhere. Since Rafi and Viau were chasing each other around trees and the remnants of a fountain, those passing through often stopped to watch, probably wondering what was going on.

Viau noticed the observers but didn’t acknowledge them other than to stay well clear of the paths during their skirmishes. Which at least meant Rafi wouldn’t have to ask if Viau minded an audience. Not that Rafi had much time to think about his friends, or about any of the people goggling at Rafi sparring with the capital’s favorite just after dawn in the shade of flowering ceribud trees.

Maybe people thought they were dueling. Rafi almost laughed at the thought, although he was too breathless to do so. His legs were shaky, his arms water. Uneven ground was different indeed, and Viau allowed him not an inch, so it was learn to consider the field, or fall again and again. When he fell, Viau helped him up and then attacked him with barely a pause. The gentle courtier was relentless and calculating.

Rafi did laugh then, a startled wheeze that made Viau briefly lose his look of focused concentration.

Rafi had “died” several times now and didn’t care. He would topple over at any moment more than likely, too focused on Viau’s eyes and his hands and his feet, looking for what Viau might do next. He still couldn’t see Viau’s aer, not like this, but was holding his own fairly well despite his falls.

Those were mostly due to the ground. Once he got used to that, he was going to see Viau fall too. He’d already hit Viau once, in the calf, because if he could not stab or slash with a play weapon, he could whip with it. Even though the move had gotten him killed again, the delighted outrage on Viau’s face had been worth it.

“What are they doing?” The comment, though whispered, was audible due to the acoustics of the courtyard and the momentary pause in the clash of swords as Rafi retreated.

He’d tripped over a large decorative stone the last time. This time, Rafi nimbly jumped over it without sparing it a glance. He could have taken on the entire academy at the light that put in Viau’s eyes.

Still, he lost again when he did charge forward, though not without making Viau work for the victory. Rafi took a wound to the shoulder and pressed on, because none of it was real, and even if it had been, no one who killed him was going to escape unscathed.

He struck Viau in the thigh, more startled at this than Viau despite his plan to do just that, and felt the blunt edge of Viau’s sword push against his breastbone.

Rafi stumbled back a step, and then, because the grass was cool with dew and he was burning up, slipped and fell onto his ass.

Viau immediately appeared above him, as worried as everyone said Rafi always was. “Rafi! Are you all right?”

His hair had fallen free of its ribbon some time ago. His fine shirt was soaked with sweat. Rafi had at least worked him hard.

He rubbed his chest. “Being stabbed in the heart hurts even when it isn’t fatal.”