With a cocky smile, Leif looked back at the soldiers. Marai rolled her eyes, but returned to the court. Raife followed, leaving Ruenen alone with Keshel, Thora and Kadiatu.
“Were you the one playing, Your Highness?” Thora asked, gesturing to his lute on the bench.
Ruenen blinked at her formality, then smiled. “You can call me Ruenen.”
“That seems . . . disrespectful,” said Thora, casting her ginger eyes to the dirt. “I don’t want to be so informal, especially since your people are still getting to know you.”
“I don’t mind. Please, Thora, consider me a friend.”
She gave Ruenen a smile.
“And yes, I do play,” Ruenen continued. “Do you want to hear a secret?”
Kadiatu nodded with vigor, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
“I was a bard before I took up the throne. Marai first met me in a tavern. She called me a lousy bard.”
Thora gasped as Kadiatu laughed. Keshel’s face betrayed no reaction. He probably already knew the whole story.
“That sounds like Marai,” Thora said, shaking her head, scandalized.
Ruenen chuckled. “She was right, though. I’m a much better musician now that I write my own songs.”
“Will you play for us sometime?” asked Kadiatu.
“Kadi, you can’t ask that of the Prince—” began Keshel.
“I’d be delighted to, if it would please you all.”
“Oh, yes, please!” Kadiatu then tugged at Thora’s arm. “Come, Thora. We can sit on the bench and watch. That nice commander who gave me the seeds, Avilyard, is over there. I want to thank him again.”
Thora let herself be dragged away. Avilyard greeted Kadiatu with a warm smile as she approached him. Ruenen walked back onto the dirt where Marai and Raife were sparring. Aresti continued her work amongst the pillars.
Leif swaggered over to Ruenen.
“Let’s see what you’re capable of, Prince.” He twirled a sword in his fingers as Marai always did.
On the sidelines, Avilyard stiffened and made a move to enter the court. Ruenen stopped him with a hand.
He wasn’t afraid of Leif.
Ruenen grabbed a sword from the stack and faced his opponent.
Leif charged. Ruenen blocked. They swung, back and forth, on seemingly equal ground. Leif was stronger than Marai, but he didn’t have her effortless skill or the ability to anticipate Ruenen’s moves the way she always did. Leif hadn’t spent years as a mercenary. He’d been sheltered in that desert; his only opponents were his own twin and Aresti.
Ruenen had seen more, done more, than the fae male before him. He knocked the blade from Leif’s hand. The steel glinted as it flew through the air.
Marai caught the blade in her free hand, suddenly appearing at Leif’s side.
Her smile spread. “You’re dead, Leif.”
Chapter 17
Marai
An ember of amusement sparked in the eyes of her fellow fae as they practiced together with Ruenen. Avilyard and his soldiers watched from behind the fence, aghast, as the fae performed with effortless skill. No magic—just weapons. The fae kept their secrets. For now.
Training went better than Marai could’ve hoped for. Shockingly, Leif seemed to come away from the afternoon without a single snarky thing to say. A gods-honest miracle.
They halted near sundown. The low orange sun cast muted watercolors across the sky as they wiped sweat from their faces.
“How did it go with the creature?” Keshel asked once Marai joined him, Thora, and Kadiatu at the fence.
Avilyard had volunteered to escort them home, but Thora politely refused and Kadiatu blushed at the commander’s gentle smile. She stared at Avilyard from across the pitch.
“What creature?” asked Thora.
Marai cringed. She pictured the shadow creature crying out in agony in its native language. The encounter left her feeling uncertain, with more questions than she’d had before. Besides Keshel, none of her family had guessed she’d also created a creature of darkness.
Marai explained to the others what had occurred in the Dale, earning gasps from Thora and Kadiatu, and dark, steely expressions from Keshel and Aresti. She didn’t mention her strange guilt.
Aresti jerked her chin haughtily over her shoulder at the remaining soldiers across the ring. “These men had better be grateful we’re here. They’d be dead before long without us.”
“He’s very nice,” stated Kadiatu, her voice high. “Commander Avilyard. He has kind eyes.” She blushed at Marai’s curious eyebrow.
“There’s honor in being a knight, I suppose,” Aresti said, ignoring Kadiatu’s winsome comment and staring at the golden-clad men on the opposite side of the court.
“Yes, but you give up your freedom,” said Keshel. “You become duty-bound to protect king and country, many times forsaking your own family.”
