She held back her gasp with an effort, trying to keep her focus as a few drops of blood ran down Eamon’s hand.
The prince let out a small laugh, clearly as surprised as she was. “You’re sneaky, Lucy,” he said, retreating a few paces and wiping the blood off on his leggings. “And you’ve learned some new tricks.”
Lucy permitted herself a grim smile. “Just because I haven’t been sparring with you doesn’t mean I’ve been wasting my time.”
“Clearly,” said Eamon, and the admiration was obvious in his voice. Lucy tried not to feel smug, but a moment later her internal gloating was cut short as Eamon advanced without warning.
She ducked and weaved rapidly as she defended, recognizing that if it came to brute strength, she had no hope of holding him off. But she was agile, and she had Eamon chasing her around their small circle as she pivoted and twisted.
Seeing an opening, she flipped her dagger outward, re-positioning her grip mid gesture in a move that had cost her hand many slices when she was learning it. She slashed below Eamon’s guard, toward his stomach. He brought his arm down swiftly, but he didn’t engage his blade in time, instead having to deflect her attack with the steel arm guard he wore, similar to Lucy’s.
Lucy’s breath was coming in pants, but it was all she could do not to grin broadly. The normal elation of a good bout was nothing to the thrill of pitting her skill against Eamon’s. Every nerve tingled with the energy of his closeness, and the light in his eyes when he admired her in a ballgown was nothing to the focused determination on his face now. Not only did she find him most handsome when he wore that studied, intent expression, but it said more clearly than words that he was taking her, and their fight, seriously.
As the minutes wore on, Lucy’s waning energy began to betray her. Eamon had come to the fight fresh, whereas Lucy had fought Lady Yasmin first, with not much time to catch her breath between. She held out as long as she could, but Eamon never failed to take advantage of any lapse or fumble. He was relentless in his attack, and far from resenting that he wasn’t going easy on her, she admired him for it. His eyes glowed with the same exhilaration she always got from a fight, the flashes of bright blue like twin magnets that she knew would draw her irresistibly in if she let herself meet his gaze for too long. If she was honest with herself, she had never found him more attractive.
As she deflected another attack on her blade arm, she wondered fleetingly whether she would have persisted in her rejection after his misstep if he had pursued their relationship with the same intense persistence that he showed in a fight. Instead he had lost confidence and become so mired in regret that he could hardly look her in the eye anymore.
Her own thoughts confused her—it wasn’t lost on her that not long ago she had been condemning his tendency to overconfidence. But her distraction cost her. As caught up as she was in her tangled emotions regarding her opponent, she inevitably lost focus, and Eamon wasted no time in pressing his advantage. She fell for his feint, lunging wildly, and his spare hand flashed out, catching her wrist in an iron grip.
He stepped close, trapping her arm in position as he squeezed, not hard enough to really hurt, but strategically enough to force her hand open. Her weapon clattered to the floor just as he laid his own against her throat, the blade flat and cold on her flushed skin.
“My victory,” he said, grinning boyishly.
Lucy stared up at him, unable to find any words as her breath caught in her throat.
Eamon’s expression underwent a rapid change as he took in the look on her face. He lowered his blade to his side, but maintained his hold with his other hand.
His cocky smile disappeared, his eyes becoming intense. It reminded Lucy inexplicably of the look he had given her on Jocelyn’s wedding day, when the groom was finally told to kiss his bride. Lucy remembered thinking that if only Eamon could figure out how to say with his words what his eyes were saying in that moment, everything could be fixed between them.
She barely noticed how out of breath she still was from their fight. Her eyes were locked on Eamon’s as her thoughts flew erratically from the moment when Kincaid had kissed Jocelyn at their wedding to the moment when Eamon had first kissed her in the forest, during their brief escape from his guards. It hadn’t really been so long ago, but the Lucy in her memory seemed barely more than a child.
She didn’t feel like a child now.
“Lucy.” Eamon’s voice was soft as his gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips. Lucy swallowed, lowering her own gaze in an attempt to break the enchantment that seemed to still tie her to him, in spite of everything. She could feel Eamon’s eyes searching her face, but she didn’t look up, too confused to know what she wanted.
“You fight well,” he said, his voice still soft, but not as intense. “You’re much better even than I remember.”
She chanced a peek up at him. It was clear that he was genuinely impressed, and it softened her defeat.
“And you’re even stronger than I remember,” she said, her own voice soft.
For a moment Eamon’s expression remained serious, as he studied her face searchingly. Then he smiled, not the cocky grin of before, but a more intimate expression that she hadn’t seen on his face in a long time. He released her wrist at last, lowering his arm but making no move to place any distance between them.
“Has it really been so long since we trained together?” he asked. “We used to do it so often.”
Lucy shook her head slightly. “You really hadn’t noticed?”
“Very unobservant of me,” said Eamon lightly. “I guess because we still saw each other so much, and because I was still training so frequently, I never put it together that both things weren’t happening at the same time. I suppose when you came to visit, we were too busy, you know…”
“Flirting,” supplied Lucy, her heart beating a little more quickly at her boldness in opening a topic she had so firmly kept closed for months.
Eamon’s grin was instantaneous. “Exactly. Although now that I think about it, I’m not at all sure why we couldn’t have done both at once.”
Lowering her gaze to Eamon’s chest, which was still far too close for any other setting, Lucy had to agree. In hindsight, it was hard to think of a more effective way to get away with flirting with the prince in public. But she didn’t say as much.
“So you never thought I’d stopped training?” she asked instead, looking up surreptitiously through her lashes in an attempt to read Eamon’s expression.
“Stopped training?” He looked genuinely astonished. “Why would you ever do that? You’re so good at it. And you love it so much.”
Lucy looked up fully, startled. “How do you know that?”
Eamon gave an incredulous laugh. “What do you mean, how do I know? Weren’t we just talking about how much we used to train together? You think I couldn’t tell all those times that you enjoyed it just as much as I did? You come alive when you fight, and I understand why completely. I’m the same way. It’s exhilarating to get lost in a good bout.” He flashed a grin. “Especially when you’re more skilled than your opponent.”
But Lucy didn’t respond to the sally. She was too astonished by how well Eamon apparently knew her. She couldn’t decide whether to be irritated or impressed that her attempts to hide her true feelings from him had been such a waste of time. So much so that he hadn’t even noticed the attempt. She almost rolled her eyes. How could he be so perceptive and so oblivious at the same time?
“But…” She hesitated. “We were so young back then. I’m grown up now. I’m…you know…”
“A woman?” Eamon supplied. His eyes passed briefly over her figure, as if he couldn’t quite stop them. “Yes, it hadn’t escaped my notice, actually. What’s your point?”
“Well, just that…” Lucy struggled to pull her thoughts together. “I have different priorities now. You don’t think it makes sense that I stopped sparring with you and the knights when I started attending balls and all of that?”
Eamon frowned. “I can imagine that it makes sense to a lot of people, but it doesn’t make sense to me. And it’s hard for me to believe it makes sense to you.” He gave her a shrewd look. “Don’t try to tell me your priorities have changed that much, Lucy. Believe me, I know that you like dressing up for a ball, and being admired by every man between 15 and 70.” He lowered his voice to a mutter. “I know better than anyone.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow, and he hurried on.
“Not that I blame you for enjoying any of that. But I don’t believe for a second that enjoying a ball makes you enjoy fighting any less.” He gestured toward her discarded weapon. “Even if you could hide the fact that you got as much of a thrill from that fight as I did, you certainly can’t hide the fact that you’ve been training often and hard in order to maintain that level of skill.”
Lucy opened her mouth then closed it again. “So,” she tried at last. “So when you saw me kill my own uncle in front of you, that didn’t make me seem less like a…I don’t know, a lady? I mean,” she hastened to add, “I know I’m not a lady in terms of a title, I just meant—”
“Lucy.” Eamon’s tone more than his words cut Lucy off mid-flow. His eyes searched her face, their expression distressed. “Has that been worrying you?” He put a hand on her shoulder, the contact sending a spark through her. “I’ve never admired you more than in that moment, especially since I knew perfectly well that Scanlon’s mischief was my fault. If Benjy had died because I was such a fool…”
He trailed off, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Lucy knew her little brother was like family to Eamon too. She realized for the first time just how much it must have tortured the prince to think that he’d almost had a hand in the death of the boisterous ten-year-old.
“Lucy, no one whose opinion you should care about would think less of you for using your hard-earned skills to stop someone from murdering your little brother.” His voice softened. “And titles be hanged. You’ve always been more than a lady to me.” He gave a crooked smile. “More like a princess.”
Lucy felt a flush rising up her cheeks, but she couldn’t quite meet his eye, still trying to process everything he’d said.
“What did Rasad mean yesterday?” Eamon asked suddenly. “When he said that your talents would earn you respect in Thorania, he looked right at me. It was like he was saying they wouldn’t in Kyona. But what does he know about our ways? Have you said something to him?”
Lucy looked up, thrown by the abrupt change of topic. “I’m sure a man like Rasad has plenty of ways of finding out anything he wants to know about Kyona,” she said evasively. “And I don’t think he was just thinking of Kyona. He witnessed some of my less popular moments in Nohl. Besides,” she raised her eyebrows, forcing Eamon to meet her gaze, “would he be wrong?”
She gestured toward Lady Yasmin, who was deep in conversation with Cody, twirling a dagger absent-mindedly in one hand. “Jocelyn got enough grief for doing basic weapons training. How do you think people would respond in Kynton if a noblewoman behaved like Lady Yasmin does?”
Eamon’s frown deepened. “I know court isn’t always the kindest place for women who want to learn to defend themselves. But my mother has been fighting this battle for decades, Lucy, not to mention Jocelyn in the last few years. We’re not perfect in Kyona, but we’ve come a long way.”
He looked down, seeming to struggle to meet her eyes. “Do you…are you saying you like it better here than in Kyona?”
Lucy studied his face, surprised by the question. She had been jealous of Eamon at times, with all her wrestling over her mixed heritage. He had no such problem. He was the epitome of Kyonan, accepted from birth merely by virtue of his position. But it hadn’t occurred to her before now how personal that made the issue for him. In some ways, Eamon was Kyona, or at least Kyona’s future. The kingdom’s standing in the eyes of other countries, and of those he cared about, wasn’t just a matter of pride. It was a matter of heart.
“I didn’t say that,” she answered carefully. “Kyona has always been my home, and I’ve only been in Thorania for a day. But there are some things about this place that I really like.”
“And some people,” said Eamon, so quietly she could barely hear him. He looked up, his expression vulnerable. “Was he really buying you jewelry?”
Lucy let her breath out in a exasperated huff. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”
Eamon’s expression changed instantly from vulnerable to defensive.
“I don’t trust him,” he said, his voice dark.
“Well, that’s news,” said Lucy sarcastically. She stepped back, finally putting some space between them. She wasn’t sure what irritated her more—that Eamon had probably been right from the start about Rasad’s untrustworthiness, or that with all the very real and substantial reasons to doubt Rasad, Eamon still chose not to trust him because of his interest in Lucy.
“You need to be careful, Lucy,” said Eamon stubbornly.
Lucy looked away in annoyance, and her eyes widened slightly as her gaze fell on the room behind the prince. “Eamon.”
“I’m serious, Lucy.”
“Eamon!”
“Just listen,” Eamon persisted. “If someone wanted to attack you just because you were with him, doesn’t that tell you something about—”
“Eamon, stop talking and look behind you!” Lucy hissed.
“Wha—” Eamon had only half turned when a smooth voice cut in on their argument.
“So many early risers this morning.”
Lucy tried to look natural as she greeted Rasad. She couldn’t help but feel annoyed with Eamon—his discomposure made it all too clear that he had been speaking of the advisor before the man himself interrupted. But the prince recovered quickly, greeting Rasad with stiff politeness.
“I’m glad to see you putting our facilities to good use, Your Highness, Luciana,” said Rasad. There was a note of pride in his voice as he glanced around the impressive training hall, now brilliantly lit by the rising sun. Lucy didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on Lady Yasmin and Cody, still talking animatedly on the other side of the space.
“Are you here to train, then?” Eamon asked Rasad, a slightly combative look on his face. Lucy could only imagine how delighted Eamon would be to have the chance to let out his frustration in a physical fight with the older man.
“No, Your Highness,” said Rasad, with a hint of laughter. “I’m afraid I’m no soldier.” His gaze passed to Lucy. “I was looking for you, actually, Luciana.”
“Oh?” Lucy asked, trying to keep her expression neutral as Eamon’s brow once again darkened in a scowl.
“Yes, I have some unfortunate news. Unfortunate for me, that is. I’ve received a message from my steward, and I need to leave the capital to visit my home, at least for a while.”
“Oh,” said Lucy again, unsure how to respond. She hoped Rasad hadn’t noticed the visible brightening in Eamon’s demeanor. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or not. Some space to think things through might be good, but if she decided to see what she could discover, as Lady Yasmin had asked, it would be difficult to do it if Rasad was far away.
“Of course the timing isn’t ideal, so soon after the delegation’s arrival,” Rasad said, nodding at Eamon before returning his attention to Lucy. “But I did promise to show you some of the wonders of our kingdom. Perhaps my business in the north might be an opportunity in disguise.”
Lucy opened her mouth, confused, but it was Eamon who spoke.
“Are you suggesting Lucy should go with you?” he asked, his disapproval clear. “To your home?”
Rasad kept his eyes on Lucy. “I would be delighted if you would consider being my guest,” he said, as if Eamon hadn’t spoken. “It is a beautiful part of the country, and I would love to show you.”
“I…” Lucy stammered, trying to pull her thoughts together. Eamon’s silent but eloquent glare didn’t help. “I don’t think Cody would agree to me leav
ing Thirl.”
“Naturally he and your brother are included in the invitation,” said Rasad. He gave a half-bow to Eamon. “I know the others in your party have obligations here, with negotiations underway, but you and your companions are free to go where you please, surely. I was under the impression you weren’t part of the official delegation. You didn’t originally intend even to come to Thorania, did you?”
“Don’t you have obligations regarding the negotiations?” Eamon asked bluntly. “You’re primary advisor to the king, aren’t you? And I thought our whole visit was your idea, to help anyone with Kyonan blood relocate to Kyona if they wished to.”
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” said Rasad, the hint of a sneer in his smile. “I am honored that the king values my advice, but I am far from necessary to all negotiations. His other advisors will have no difficulty managing without me for a week or two.”
“Will your trip be as short as that?” Lucy asked, ignoring the way Eamon was shifting his weight from foot to foot.
“I hope so,” Rasad said. He flashed that attractive smile, but it looked less appealing and more studied than Lucy remembered. “We would pass the Jeweled Peaks on our journey. They truly are a sight to behold. Will you consider my invitation?”
“I’ll definitely consider it,” Lucy said. “And I’ll speak to my brother and Cody about it. When do you leave?”
“Almost immediately, I’m afraid,” said Rasad, looking regretful. “It’s a three day journey, and my business is urgent, so I leave at first light tomorrow.”
“All right,” Lucy said. “I should prepare for the meal now, but I’ll think about it. Thank you for the invitation.”
Rasad took her hand and pressed a light kiss to the back of it, before giving Eamon a half-bow. The prince barely waited for the Thoranian to be out of earshot before rounding on Lucy.
“Lucy, surely you can’t seriously be considering accepting?”
“That’s my own affair,” said Lucy shortly, out of patience with his posturing.
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