She and her sister each searched one another for weaknesses and openings as they circled one another. “The dance”, as Magdova liked to call it. Syline kept her footwork stable. Meanwhile, Magdova was moving easily across the snow, but not with true purpose in her steps. She had confidence she was fast enough to respond to anything Syline threw out and was letting her defence falter for it. Magdova was cocky and Syline was sure she could take advantage of that. Syline stepped side-on and swung for her sister’s shoulder. Her sister greedily threw her blade out wide to defend. Syline turned her arm out of the swing and let loose a swift jab at her sister’s torso. Magdova gasped. She threw herself back and straight out of the ring to try and evade.
‘Syline’s point,’ their mother said. ‘Magdova! Don’t underestimate your opponent! You’re getting sloppy with confidence. Imagine if you faced Kat or me with that footwork!’
‘Sorry, Mother!’ Magdova squeaked out beneath the admonishment. She raised her blade up to her breast in another salute. Taking a long steadying breath, she narrowed her eyes and levelled her steely gaze at Syline. Her sister was taking this duel seriously now.
Good, even if she lost, Syline thought, she wouldn’t make it easy for her and she’d do it without her sister’s roughhousing. The pair exchanged a smile as she raised her blade up to her breast in return, then they each swept them out to the sides. The deciding match began.
For the last time that day, the pair began their dance, but this time, the mood was different. Now, both were taking it seriously. Now, both knew, the moment their attention wavered, they could truly lose. For Magdova, it was about maintaining her streak, while Syline was determined to break it. This time, Magdova wasn’t seeking to punish her sister; she was out to overwhelm her. She thrust forward, and Syline parried it out to their side. Magdova turned it into a swipe at Syline’s chest. She slapped that down and tried to counter, but her sisters’ blade was there already, stabbing at Syline again and again. Magdova was abandoning defence, but in the process, she was forcing Syline to abandon offence with how fast her attacks came.
Magdova knew her greatest advantages over her older sister were physical. Syline could slap the blows aside, but her sister’s aggression gave her no room to counterattack. Syline found herself slowly backing towards the edge of the ring. She had to find an opening. She had to break the assault, or her sister would just drive her out.
As Magdova went for another jab, Syline thought she’d found it. She threw herself past her sister back into the centre of the ring, throwing a passing cut at her sister’s shoulder. Magdova dodged it almost casually, but now Syline had her chance; she could bring up her own offence now. Her sister turned, slashing at Syline’s shoulder. Syline brought her blade up to counter it and just like that, she had lost. Her sister had used the same trick she had on her, but to much more violent effect. Syline had tried to get her blade in the way as her sister twisted to jab at her chest but got caught on the knuckles by the blunted blade. The shock had her drop her blade, but her sister, intent on proving her victory, pressed on, jabbing Syline once, twice, thrice in the stomach. She pushed her elder lookalike back until Syline stumbled out of the ring, yelling for her sister to stop, that she had won.
‘Magdova!’ their mother said. ‘The match is over! This is sport, not combat.’
Magdova froze in place with her arm cocked back for one final jab. Magdova looked that way, then lowered her blade. Syline stared at her, holding her hand. Only her gloves had stopped the blade cutting her. Even blunted, the point would likely still leave a bruise.
‘Sorry, Syline,’ her younger sister said, letting out a little sigh and shaking her head. She sheathed her own sabre and stepped over. ‘I got a bit carried away there.’ She gave her an apologetic smile.
Syline looked at her sister for a moment, ready to retort, to tell her off, to call her a bully, a buffoon, cruel, even. But she didn’t. Her sister was competitive to a level Syline wasn’t. That’s how it was and sometimes you do get a little hurt in these duels. Even Syline had left her sister with bruises from over eager swings a few times in the past. That was what she told herself to push down her anger. To hide how frustrated she was at her sister. How annoyed she was about how desperate her sister was to maintain that streak. How angry she was about how her sister got so brutal when she looked like she might win even once. She didn’t tell her off. She just shook her head, stepped in and hugged her sister.
‘It’s alright Mags. It happens,’ she said, flexing her hurting knuckles behind her sister’s back. ‘Good to know you’re that scared of losing to me,’ she teased, although a bit flatly, ‘I’ll need to make those fears come true next time.’
Their mother smiled and, after a moment of watching the pair, called to them.
‘You two are finished for the day. Syline, get Alexis to find you a balm for your knuckles. The both of you can take it easy ’til dinner.’
Parting, the pair each nodded to their mother and disappeared inside.
After helping put a balm on her knuckles, Alexis went off shopping with the other maids, and Magdova left for her lessons with her tutor. Syline was left alone to stew. Her sister might’ve apologised, but her knuckles still ached and she was still frustrated over the whole incident. Syline was passing the time by doing a bit of reading, a bawdy novel her mother would surely confiscate called The Dragonslayer’s Lance. She was comfortably settled in the window love seat in her room when her mother creaked the door open and stepped inside. Syline quickly slid her book under a pillow as her mother shut the door behind her.
‘How’re your knuckles, little sparrow?’ she asked as Syline turned to face her properly.
Syline held out her hand, clenching and unclenching.
‘It’s not as bad as it looked,’ she said. It still ached, but she didn’t want to seem like a poor loser.
‘I’m glad,’ her mother said with a smile as she sat down beside Syline and put an arm around her shoulders. ‘You did well that second round.’
‘But I still lost,’ Syline said bitterly, a little frown peeking through. She hadn’t won at all this month. Today was the closest she had come in a while.
‘I know you did, but you did so with grace. That’s more than I can say for how your sister won today.’
Syline managed a bit of a smile at that but shrugged. She was trying to push them down, but tears quickly began budding at the corner of her eyes.
‘I just… it’s been so long since I’ve managed to win even one match. It just feels unfair. I try and I try, but she always wins.’
‘Come here,’ her mother said, standing up and walking to the mirror above Syline’s dresser. Syline followed, and her mother wrapped both arms around her, pulling her to stand in front of her. Her mother was almost a head taller than her.
‘It might not come as naturally for you as it does Kat and Magdova, but I still see so much potential in you, my little sparrow.’
Syline shook her head a little.
‘I could never compare to you or Kat,’ she mumbled.
Her mother’s grip on her tightened.
‘To be fair,’ her mother started, ‘I’m not sure I could compare to Katarina now. She’s got the kind of talent that comes once in a generation. But, in some ways, I despair for her.’
‘Why?’ Syline asked, confused.
‘Because Kat has eyes only for duelling. She’s so much like her twin, Ulrik, in that. He’ll be a fine general, but you should see him on the dance floor. She might be the finest duellist I could ever hope for, but martial skill isn’t all I want you girls to take from it. Duelling is what I know best, so it’s how I teach, but from it, I want you girls to learn manners, cunning, how to read others and how to think for yourselves.’ She smiled softly and fixed one of Syline’s curls behind her ear, before continuing, ‘You might not have as much raw talent as Magdova, but you also pay a lot more attention to what I tell you. Perhaps with a little extra training. How would you feel about a few extra lessons, just the two of us, maybe three times a week?’
Syline smiled up at her mother, emboldened by her words for her. She wiped her eyes clear of the tears.
‘I’d like that, Mother.’
‘Fantastic, in fact, I’m so certain you’ll beat her soon, that I’m going to give you half your prize for it now.’
Syline cocked her head slightly to the side and watched through the mirror as her mother pulled a small black box out of her coat pocket. She opened it to reveal twin platinum hair pins, each one bearing the family crest: twin sabres crossed over a torch. The torch in this case bearing a tiny blue jewel to symbolise the flame. Syline felt her breath taken away and just stared as her mother took out one and used it to pin one side of Syline’s long curls back.
‘Do you like them?’
‘I love them!’ Syline squealed and inspected herself in the mirror.
Her mother embraced her tight and leaned down to kiss into her hair.
