In truth, I was used to sticking up for myself. But seeing someone—let alone the Prince of Thessolina—getting so angry over my own fate had me on edge. Why me?
“Prince Hadrian...” I walked further into the room, paranoid that he was about to use that staff against the Commander. “I feel as though we’ve taken up too much of Commander’s time, I’m happy to return back to the kitchens and carry on working as King Dalior has requested.”
“Do you hear that Prince? Your pet is rather happy slaving away instead. I’m sure he is used to it were he is from, aren’t you, boy?”
I heard a laugh in the stands above. A familiar snigger. I didn’t need to see who it came from. Illera.
I wanted to leave the room as soon as the words dripped from her mouth. I was embarrassed with Hadrian’s behaviour, I didn’t care if he was the prince or not. Dragging me here, before a crowd, allowing the Commander a chance to belittle me. Her comment rubbed me the wrong way. The two days’ worth of frustration burst from me as I stormed forward, only to be stopped mid-stride by Hadrian’s outstretched hand. I was ready to tell her exactly what I thought, but Hadrian spoke before I even had a chance.
“A duel,” Hadrian said, his strength holding me in place. “In two weeks’ time Zacriah is to duel a guard of your choice, there he will prove his worth. Until then, he will carry on his time in the kitchens, but if he wins he will be relieved of his duties.”
I looked at him, my anger turning in his direction. I didn’t care about titles, royalty or who he was. I hated that the moment I entered the palace my fate had been ripped from my own hands and placed into the hands of others.
“I will need to check with the Ki—” the Commander began, but was cut off by the high shrill of Hadrian’s laughter.
“Of course, a loyal dog always follows the orders of its owner, rarely trusting their own instincts. Regardless of what King Dalior says, I am prince and I demand a duel. It’s the least I deserve; call it a late birthday gift. I could do with the entertainment, it may lighten the mood for the palace during these times.”
She bowed, slow, pointless and exaggerated. Once she was done she stood up and turned for the initiates who watched in shock from up above.
“What a good idea. Two weeks, I pick the competitor and we can all watch as your little pet either shits himself or lies in a puddle of his own blood.” She grabbed the staff back from Hadrian’s hand.
“And don’t worry…” she said with all her attention focused back on me, “I will make sure whoever I pick won’t hurt your hands, we wouldn’t want your skills in the kitchens to be affected.”
I couldn’t stop myself, I spoke before I even had a moment to register what I was saying. “It’s not my hands you should worry about, but rather what I’m doing to your food when I prepare it.”
I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, gently urging me back before I pounced. Hadrian whispered something to me, but I didn’t hear, not through the roar that filled my mind.
I kept my gaze pinned to the Commanders. My next words I made sure were loud enough for every single elfin in the room to hear. “I suppose we have some work to do, your highness.”
“That we do,” he agreed.
Commander Alina said nothing more. Instead, she watched as we left the room, leaving the door wide open. I kept breathing, in through my nose out through my mouth. Hadrian was behind me, his hand placed on my back. With every footstep, the idea of duelling sank into me deeper. By the time we reached our next destination, I was in full panic mode.
“KEEP YOUR HANDS up and cover that pretty face of yours, unless you want me to hit it.” Hadrian moved like a snake, weaving from my punch with a smile. “And I really do not want to ruin it.”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, breathless.
My arms ached from holding them up in defence for so long. “If you are so worried about ruining it, why don’t you stop deliberately aiming for it!” My legs burned from squatting and dropping repeatedly to avoid Hadrian’s advances. Although my attempts at dodging him seemed to always end in Hadrian catching yet another undefended part of my body.
“Keep it protected and you won’t have to worry about my attempts,” he replied, dropping his fists. “Fetch two of those swords, it’s time we move on.”
Hadrian was built like a statue. I watched, mouth agape, as he yanked his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. The muscles on his back rippled when he rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms, both in perfect proportion to his thick torso. I looked away, quickly busying myself and picking up two wooden swords on the wall beside me.
“I do not think you are ready for weapons.” Hadrian spoke from behind me; I could feel the heat from his topless body warming my back. “But we are going to need to work every angle of training in the limited time that we have to get you ready.”
I did not turn to him, my face still red. “What makes you think I haven’t used one before?”
Hadrian’s hand shot from over my shoulder and snatched a sword from my grasp, pressing the butt of it to my spine. “Because you are a bow and arrow type of guy, not a swords master.”
“If you say so.” My voice dropped. I turned fast, throwing the sword out to the side as if to prove my worth. He was right, though; I had no clue how to use it. In the blink of an eye Hadrian blocked my slash and slammed his sword so hard onto mine that I dropped it on the floor.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He smirked. “Pick it up and try again.”
***
THE ROOM WAS cramped, with only the light from a few candles that dripped wax down the alcoves on the stone walls. It was enough light to catch Hadrian’s movements, but not to illuminate the entire room.
I ran my hand down the wooden sword, feeling the marks and rough design. Hadrian paced in front of me, his sword held out before him. His gilded eyes squinted in my direction.
“Remember, protect your face, keep a wide stance and do not drop eye contact.” Hadrian stopped moving and bent his knees, smiling.
“Got it.” I took a deep breath through my nose and released.
“Good luck.” He winked.
He didn’t mean it.
I couldn’t keep up with his movements. He bobbed and weaved, his body blurring. I advanced. I spun my sword, bringing it down onto his. The slap of the wood echoed across the room, vibrating up my arm. He swiped his across the floor, and slammed it to my shin. I bit back a cry of pain. Distracted, he took another swing for my head. I dropped, rolling to the side. A sudden burst of wind brushed beside my ear. I threw out a leg, aiming for his. He jumped. I missed.
He must have swung the sword again because my head snapped backwards and my cheek stung from the slap.