by J. M. Kearl
I was a little disappointed not to have Zyacus and Aric in Advanced Swords again this year. As the sparring began, I stood beside Madison assessing the students. She didn’t put us in groups by kingdom this time. We were randomly thrown together and it made me miss the rivalry of last year.
With a nervous ache in my gut, I walked to Hand to Hand Combat which was only about fifty yards from the sword sparring grounds. Zyacus and I had compared schedules and we had this class together. It had been months since we fought each other with swords, and we hadn’t faced off in hand to hand since I actually started liking him. It typically involved rolling around on the ground, grappling... bodies close together. With anyone else my only thought was to win the match, to hurt or outmaneuver them, but when Zyacus’s body was near mine, my insides fluttered and danced. Let’s just say combat was the furthest thing from my mind.
Waiting for someone I knew to arrive to class, I stood at the edge of a white circle outlined in the grass. As the other students gathered, none of them approached me until Lora showed up.
In an overzealous greeting, she punched my arm a little harder than I would have liked. “Hey Vis!”
I rubbed my arm absently. “Where have you been? I didn’t see you yesterday or this morning at breakfast.”
She ran her fingers through her white-blonde hair that hung in a straight line just below her chin. “My parents didn’t want me to come back so I had to have Aunt Athena convince them. Took a day longer. Mother only allowed me to come if my brother came too. He’s a year older.” She looked over her shoulder. “He’s coming right now.”
I turned to see her brother, a striking dark blond-haired boy. As tall as Zyacus and about as muscular with long hair pulled into a bun. “Oh,” was all I managed to say.
Lora leaned in closer. “He’s been infatuated with you for forever.”
My head whipped back to her. “Me? How? We’ve never met.”
Lora chuckled. “Um, well, everyone knows who you are. Your painting is in every warlord’s house and he said he’s seen you at royal parties.”
It was strange to think a boy I’d never met had any sort of feeling for me. Although I guess I’d had infatuations with some of the older guards over the years who barely even noticed me other than to make sure I was safe.
This brother of hers stood beside Lora and smiled at us. “Hello sister.” His dark brown eyes landed on me and he bowed slightly. “Princess Visteal.”
“This is Aramis,” Lora said.
“It’s good to meet you. Lora is one of my best friends.”
“Yes.” Aramis smiled. “Lora has told us all about you for the last few months.”
It looked like most everyone had arrived and by all the gray and blue uniforms, we were the only three Delhoon. “It appears we’re outnumbered by a lot in this class.”
Aramis nodded. “It is a little strange to be training with the other kingdoms.”
Without warning Zyacus popped in between Lora and me and put his arms around both our shoulders. “Hello, Ladies. Ready for some wrestling?”
Lora grinned but wiggled out from under him. “Wrestling?”
He kissed me hard on the cheek. “Well yes, hand to hand combat includes wrestling.” His lips grazed my ear, “Although I’d prefer a less aggressive type of wrestling with you.”
I immediately pictured him with no shirt and me lying in his arms. My cheeks burned. I hated and loved that a few simple words from him had this effect on me. Like a spark to tinder.
“How about you discuss your love life after class,” Lora said, rolling her eyes. Then she grew a sly grin. “Oh, have you met my brother?”
Aramis stood stiffly on Lora’s other side, his eyes anywhere but Zyacus and me.
Zyacus stuck out a hand. “Hey man, I’m Zyacus.”
Aramis turned, accepting his gesture and gripped his forearm. “Shouldn’t I be bowing before the Prince of Hesstia? I’m not sure of the customs of this place yet.”
“If you’re Lora’s brother then you’re a friend. No bowing is necessary.” Zyacus’s arm fell at his side.
A loud whistle cut through the chatter and a shorter muscular man with no shirt and earthy brown pants strolled into the center of the circle.
“Who’s the shirtless wonder?” Lora asked, looking him up and down.
Tying his long brown hair back, the man said, “Alright class, I’m Professor Roldaheim and it’s time to get started.” He waved us in closer. “Most of you should have a fair amount of skill when it comes to fighting without a weapon so if you need lessons on the basics you’re in the wrong class.” He glanced about taking in each student then he put us into groups of three. One to spectate and give advice, the other two to fight.
Somehow I ended up with Aramis and Zyacus in my trio. Lora stood looking at the three of us from her own group, laughing. Aramis glared at her. I didn’t know what she thought was so funny.
“So, who wants to go first?” I asked.
Aramis looked incredibly uncomfortable. Probably wondering how he ended up with the coupled royals. “Whatever you decide.”
Professor Roldaheim approached and bowed. “It wasn’t my intention to put the prince and princess together. I didn’t think about it. If you’d be more comfortable—”
“It’s fine.” Zyacus gave a curt nod. “We’re not exactly rivals anymore.”
He chuckled. “Oh, interesting. I guess I’m not up on the gossip.”
He looked to Aramis with a sympathetic smile. “There is one piece of information I’ve heard from the other instructors: don’t go easy on the royals. Treat them as any other student.”
Aramis nodded and both Zyacus and I grinned. I for one was glad if other students didn’t take it easy on me. An enemy wouldn’t.
“I’ll be checking in on each group periodically.” The shirtless professor wandered off to a group who’d already started.
“Let’s see what you’re made of, Aramis,” I said, pulling my sword, daggers and knives and placing them on the ground
Aramis did the same, and Zyacus folded his arms across his belly, stepping back to watch.
“Are there any rules?” Aramis asked. “The professor didn’t say.”
“It’s the same as in Delhoon,” I offered. “It’s practice, not full force but try to subdue the opponent. You know, don’t bite, don’t punch in the face, the usual.”
Rolling his neck and shoulders Aramis moved into a fighting stance. I did the same. Whenever I fought against a man, I’d been trained to do things differently. Their strength, especially one the size of Aramis, would far outweigh my own. The point of training meant we didn’t try to “harm” the other person. Strike block, strike, if you land a blow it’s with minimal force.
“There is one other rule,” Zyacus said, “don’t hurt my girl.”
“Hush up, Zyacus,” I said, rolling my eyes.
I watched Aramis for a moment to see if he’d strike first; when he didn’t, I kicked at his thigh and his palm shoved my leg aside. From then on it was punches, elbows, kicks, blocks, some landed. We circled, striking, maneuvering out of the way, like a dance we’d practiced all our lives. A small smile pulled at his lips. I couldn’t help but smile back. He was a fun training partner. We had the same style and it was like we knew each other’s moves.
“Who trained you?” I asked, throwing a hard punch into his palm.
“When I was young, my father,” he said, kicking his leg over my head as I dropped into a squat. “My father said he was friends with Rorin and King Boaden at academy. They often trained together.”
“Really?” I wondered why Lora hadn’t ever said her father and mine were friends.
“Yes,” he answered. “But they didn’t remain friends. Something happened but he never would say what.”
Maybe Lora was worried if I knew I’d hold that against her. I made the mistake of letting my eyes drift to Lora and a fist popped me in the jaw. I stumbled back a couple steps.
“I’m
sorry,” Aramis said, dropping his hands. “I didn’t mean to, I thought you’d block it.” He bowed and stayed bent at the hips.
I rubbed my cheek but it didn’t really hurt. “It’s fine.”
Charging in, Zyacus said, “My turn,” and stepped in front of Aramis. I moved out of their way, my stomach suddenly dropping at the predatory gaze Zyacus had as he put his fists up.
Dragon’s fire, this is going to turn into more than a practice bout.
Aramis had to have sensed the intensity because as soon as the first strike flew, his expression hardened.
Before I knew it a couple fairly hard blows had landed from both of them and then they were grappling on the ground. Rolling, punching, and grunting like a couple of animals. I sighed. Ugh, men.
Some of the closer groups had even stopped to watch them. Our Professor stood with his arms crossed, nodding as if this was standard.
They got back up and went right back at it, fists colliding into faces, ribs, Zyacus landed a hard knee to Aramis’s gut. His breath whooshed out but he charged, driving his shoulder into the prince until they hit the ground again.
“This isn’t how we train!” I yelled when everyone else started shouting and cheering them on.
I spelled to the professor’s side. “Are you going to stop them?”
Slowly shaking his head but not taking his eyes from the fight, he said, “It’s good for men to get their aggression out sometimes. Especially when it’s over a girl.” He finally looked at me. “They’ll likely become good friends after this.”
“Only men would be great friends after beating each other up out of anger.” Then I caught onto something he said. “What do you mean over a girl? What girl?”
A pointed look from Professor Roldaheim followed my question.
Me?
Zyacus cracked Aramis with a hard right hand straight to the jaw and blood sprayed from his mouth. Aramis swayed but kept on his feet. With a remarkable recovery, a quick spin kick and his heel collided with Zyacus’s head, sending the prince to his hands and knees.
“Get up!” I roared as Aramis then kicked him in the ribs.
Lora shoved her way in beside me. “Aramis stop this right now!”
Rolling with the kick, Zyacus sprang up, but held his elbow close to the side that took the blow. He also had a swollen left eye. Aramis looked even worse with a cut on his forehead releasing a steady stream of blood down his face.
They went at each other again, taking and exchanging hits. I winced at the sound of bone crushing into flesh. “How long will you allow this?” I demanded from the professor.
“As long as it takes for one of them to concede or lose consciousness.” He paused. “Or until you, your highness, command me to stop it.”
If I commanded him to stop the fight then Zyacus could get upset with me. I would in his situation. So I folded my arms and kept peeking at Lora who averted her eyes whenever her brother got hit hard.
Finally after the two of them rolled on the ground for what seemed like several minutes but was actually probably less than thirty seconds, Zyacus got the crook of his arm under Aramis’s chin and around his neck.
“Tap out!” Lora screamed as her brother’s face turned an alarming shade of red. But he refused. Stubborn bastard.
“Enough, stop this now,” I commanded.
Professor Roldaheim sprang into action. All it took was a tap on Zyacus’s arm for him to release his opponent.
Aramis gasped for air, turning onto his side coughing and breathing heavily.
Zyacus stood, brushing off his uniform.
The class erupted into applause. I’m sure none of them had expected such a glorious well-matched fight during class.
Lora rushed to her brother’s side and then slapped him on the shoulder. “You idiot! You can’t fight the Prince of Hesstia like that in class!”
Zyacus must have heard and held out a hand to Aramis. “He can fight me like that anytime. You’re a tough bastard.”
Aramis’s swollen lips pulled into a grin. He took Zyacus’s hand and stood. “So are you. I kind of expected you to be—soft. You’re one of the best I’ve ever fought.”
Lora, looking extra small standing beside the two of them, blurted out, “What in the name of holy phoenix would ever make you think he was soft? I told you he was Tournament Champion.”
Aramis shrugged. “I thought everyone took it easy on him. I didn’t.”
I cleared my throat. “Now that you’ve got that out, the two of you need to go to the infirmary. You look terrible.”
Clearly agreeing, the class burst into laughter.
Chapter 12
Dinner proved that with this new Headmaster, things would definitely be different this year. He asked that the princes and I wear our crowns and something more formal than a uniform. Going against what previous leaders had thought, he believed future kings and queens should stand apart from the others. We shouldn’t be treated the same or interact with the students as if we were simply one of them.
“It sets a precedence for them to undermine you when you became rulers. You are not their equal,” were his exact words when he’d called the three of us into his office. He looked pointedly at me when he said, “There will be no more dish duty.”
Not that I wasn’t pleased, but I wondered how my parents felt about this or if they even knew. Also of note, professors would no longer be able to reprimand us. I half smiled thinking of Professor Deg and his vendetta against me. I briefly wondered if this is how it had always been for Zyacus. I’d never seen him punished for anything.
The seating arrangements went from three long tables that each kingdom sat at to several smaller round ones. Cloths of red, blue, and gray covered the interspersed tables so that the kingdom’s colors and students would sit next to each other. Zyacus, Aric and I sat at a rectangular table on a slightly raised platform overlooking the room. As I sat between the boys, munching on a carrot I had a difficult time distinguishing my feelings. I knew the Headmaster was right; for us to be seen as leaders we had to be separate, but I missed being with my friends. I missed being—one of them: carefree students, most of whom would never command legions, and never bear the weight of thousands of lives. Most would be responsible for themselves alone.
Sitting with my glittering black crown atop my head, gazing down on the laughing and chattering students, reminded me I would never be one of them and I never was.
Princess. Royalty. Future Queen. That’s who I was.
Setting down a turkey leg, Zyacus leaned closer to me. “You seem to be deep in thought. Is something bothering you?”
“I’m just trying to get used to this new arrangement.”
“This is how it should have been from the start. At my academy in Hesstia I was never treated as a common student.”
“But who did you sit with then?”
“My siblings and cousins and some of the Entari’s children.”
I turned to Aric. “What about you?”
He hadn’t touched his food. But his drink was almost empty. “I sat with cousins. Most of whom are ahead of me in the line of succession. But, you know how it is in the north, the title is often a challenge then fight to the death. My uncle has fought in King Faustus’s stead several times to keep the family’s rule.”
I watched him sip on his red drink and although I knew blood didn’t fill that cup, he probably wished it was. The thought brought an involuntary shutter. “How are you doing with your new… senses?”
Aric stiffened and slowly turned his head toward me. “I’m fine. Why? Does something appear wrong?”
“No, quite the opposite.” He almost seemed too fine given what happened to him a few months prior. I couldn’t imagine I would be the same. “Except for one thing. Why are you avoiding Legacy?”
Zyacus choked on his drink and covered his mouth with a napkin as he coughed. Dramatic much? He had to expect I’d ask.
Aric swirled the deep berry liquid in his glass. “As I said
the night I turned, I want her to forget about me. I am no longer the man for her.”
Obviously he’d changed but it wasn’t for him to decide who the right man for her was. He could just admit if he no longer felt the same. “Oh, then who is?”
Aric narrowed his eyes. “Someone who is still human. You aren’t like me, you don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
Aric leaned ever so slightly closer and the look in his suddenly wild eyes made me want to shy away. “I hear every thud of your heart. I hear it quickening now. I notice the throbbing of the vein in your neck, yes that one,” he said when my hand covered it, “the smell of you, of Zyacus, of all humans makes me hungry. But instead of like when your mouth waters for food, my throat aches for the coppery liquid coursing through your body. Right now I would like to bite your neck and let your warm blood wash over my tongue and wet my aching dry throat but I won’t. But I want to. That is why, Visteal.”
I felt lame when all I said was, “Oh.” I turned back to my plate, ashamed to admit my magic flared in defense sitting so close. I didn’t want to believe he’d ever hurt me, but I silently wondered. It took every ounce of my self-control to not move away from him. “I’m sorry, Aric. I wish I could have stopped it from happening.”
“It was destiny,” he said with a shrug. He absently rubbed his wrist where the skull mark used to mar his skin.
Leaning forward Zyacus asked, “But could you control it and be with her?” Something in his expression made me think he wasn’t asking for Legacy’s sake.
Aric took another sip of his drink. “Maybe with time. But I wouldn’t expect Legacy to wait.”
“But both of you will live hundreds of years,” Zyacus argued. “You have time. Lots of time.” There was a pain in his voice that I knew well. Hundreds of years. What Zyacus and I wouldn’t have.
“When she last even thought I was a vampire and I wasn’t, she broke it off with me. Was disgusted at the thought. I doubt she’s changed her mind.” He was quiet for a moment. “Besides I’ve heard rumors she moved on with someone else recently.”