He thrashed on the bed again, his head turning toward me. My breath caught in my lungs, my heart raced beneath my ribs as I stared down at him. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his lips parted. In sleep, he didn’t look arrogant or spoiled. He almost looked … lost. For one brief moment of insanity, I wondered what it would be like to lie next to him, to comfort him from the demons that apparently chased him at night. To be held against his body in the circle of his strong arms. To have his lips touch mine.
What is wrong with you? I shook my head violently, horrified at the turn in my thoughts. Fantasizing about the prince would have been bad enough if I were a normal girl, but as his guard — whom he thought was a boy? It was absolutely inexcusable.
My cheeks burning, I hurried to set the letter down on the table closest to him and turned to go. When I was halfway to the door, the floor creaked loudly beneath my foot and I froze, cursing under my breath.
The labored breathing of Prince Damian’s nightmare-ridden sleep halted abruptly. I stayed completely motionless, hoping he’d roll over and go back to sleep. Instead, the bed quietly groaned in protest as he sat up.
“Who goes there? Reveal yourself at once.”
I turned around, lifting my hands in the air, belatedly realizing I still clutched my dagger in one hand. Though the storm had passed, clouds lingered behind, blocking the moon. The window was behind me, but without the moonlight, I could only hope he wouldn’t see the outline of my binding — or my body.
“Alex, is that you?”
“Your Highness, I apologize for disturbing you.” My voice was strained from the effort of hiding my embarrassment. “But the letter you spoke of earlier …” I gestured at his table, where the letter sat unopened.
He glanced at it, then back at me, his expression inscrutable in the darkness. Even though my sight had adjusted, I could barely see his eyes.
“And why, I wonder, did you feel it necessary to deliver the letter with a knife in hand?” The prince’s tone hinged somewhere between curiosity and accusation. I could have sworn I caught him glancing down at my body before quickly looking up at my eyes again.
In one fluid movement, I lowered my hands and slipped the knife back into the sheath on my leg. Would it embarrass or anger him to mention the obvious nightmare he’d been having? I couldn’t come up with a different excuse fast enough, and already the silence had stretched too long. “You cried out in your sleep, sir. I was afraid that you had been attacked again.”
“That would imply a deplorable lack of awareness on your part, if someone had managed to slip past you and get into my room.” He ignored the mention of his crying out in his sleep entirely.
“Sir, the child who brought the letter did so by way of a secret passage — one I was not aware of before this night. I was concerned that another such passageway might exist in your inner chamber.”
“Do I detect a hint of irritation in your voice, almost-captain of mine?”
I cleared my throat, and attempted to rein in what was apparently my obvious frustration. “Sir, my only concern is your safety. If there are passages that allow someone access to you that I’m unaware of, it could lead to a failure to protect you from harm.”
“Ah, I see.”
I tried not to stare at him as silence fell, stretching out to fill the space between us with a strange tension. He sat in his bed, halfway undressed, while I stood in the middle of his room with only a shirt, a binding, and some pants to hide my secret. If I really were a boy, it wouldn’t matter how dressed or undressed either of us were. I wouldn’t have felt breathless from the force of his gaze on me in the darkness. But I wasn’t a boy and I needed to get out of this room before he realized it.
Finally, he lay back down in bed without another word, pulling the sheets over his shoulder and shutting his eyes. When he didn’t say anything else, appearing to have decided to ignore me and go back to sleep, I turned on my heel and rushed for the door.
If he refused to answer my questions, there was obviously something he was hiding. I only hoped it wouldn’t lead to a successful assassination, because if he died, I would, too — for failing in my job to protect him. I grumbled under my breath as I yanked open the door.
“Stupid, stubborn —”
“Good night, Alex.” His voice made me jump and I nearly gasped out loud.
“Good night, sir.” Cheeks flaming, praying I hadn’t spoken loud enough for him to hear, I shut his door.
AFTER A BRIEF sponge bath before the sun rose, hoping no one else would be up so early, I hurried to switch my tunic. I didn’t dare change the binding on my chest; it would take too long. I couldn’t risk someone walking in on me — especially Prince Damian. Not that I would expect him to be up so early, but then again, he seemed to be full of surprises recently.
Voices outside the door to the prince’s chambers alerted me moments before it opened and just as I predicted, Nolen strode in with Deron and Jerrod on his heels.
“The night was uneventful, I take it?” Deron stood in the middle of the room, arms folded across his wide chest. He wore the traditional uniform of Prince Damian’s guard: white tunic, thick vest dyed a deep blue with the emblem of the Antion nation on the right breast — a jaguar crouched on a branch, prepared to attack.
“Yes, sir,” I responded, choosing not to mention the letter or the secret passageway. Or the midnight conversation with the prince. I trusted Deron far more than I trusted Prince Damian, but I had promised not to tell anyone. And there was a part of me that wanted to find out what was really going on before alerting anyone else to the prince’s strange nighttime activities.
“Excellent. Hopefully, you are good and rested, then. The competition will be held starting at noon today.”
“Why would I need to be rested for the competition?” I noticed Jerrod scowling behind Deron. His pale eyes met mine for a moment before he looked away.
“Because the candidates will fight you, of course.”
“The tradition is to fight the captain.”
Deron nodded. “True. However, you beat me. Everyone knows the position technically should have been yours. If you’d been just a few years older, it would have been. The men will fight you, and whoever lasts the longest will join the guard.”
“And the prince?”
“I’ve assigned Jerrod and Asher to stay with him at all times during the tryouts.”
Jerrod’s scowl made more sense now. Everyone knew that he wanted the position of captain someday, and before I came, it had looked like he might be the man to beat for the position — if something happened to Deron. But then I beat Deron. While Deron had taken his loss with grace (although having still retained his position as captain probably helped), Jerrod had treated me with thinly veiled contempt ever since.
And now he was relegated to being a babysitter while I was given the task he probably felt he deserved. Of all the men on the guard, he was the only one who refused to spar with me unless forced. He didn’t like to lose.
“Kai and Jude will spar first, weed out the men, and then we’ll have you fight the best of the bunch. Go grab something to eat and head outside to help Rylan set up the ring and get the gear together.”
I nodded at Deron’s dismissal. After retrieving my own vest and donning it, along with my scabbard and sword, I started to head out.
“Oh, Alex, one more thing.”
I paused and looked back at Deron.
“The girl — the one who attacked Prince Damian yesterday — is sentenced to hang tomorrow morning just after dawn. Rylan said you asked.”
“The prince wanted to make sure she was punished to the full extent of the law,” I said, hoping the sudden nausea in my gut wasn’t apparent in my expression. “I told him I would find out.”
“I’ll be sure to let him know.” Deron waved me off. I turned away once again and this time he didn’t call me back.
I easily dispatched the first two prospective guards, barely even breaking a sweat, even
though it was another sweltering day. Clouds sluggishly passed overhead, offering occasional reprieve from the relentless glare of the sun, but the air was thick with humidity. As the afternoon wore on, the sky grew increasingly somber and the line of men standing outside the ring grew smaller.
Finally, only two remained.
“There will be a fifteen-minute break, and then the final two will fight for the position of personal guard to the prince,” Deron called out when I beat the tenth man in under three minutes, knocking him to the ground with a hit to the back and then finishing him off with my wooden sword pressed to his exposed throat.
“Whoah, you’re good,” he muttered as he lumbered back up, stepping away from me warily.
I nodded in acknowledgment and then turned and walked over to where Deron stood talking to Rylan and Kai.
Rylan handed me a rag and a cup of water. I downed the water in one long draft while Kai continued regaling them with a tale of some lady’s maid he’d apparently seduced the night before.
“I’m out there working while you’re over here gossiping about the latest skirt you’ve been chasing?”
“Or undoing, as the case may be.” Kai grinned, unrepentant. “You shouldn’t work so hard all the time, Alex. You’d be surprised how impressive women find it when a member of the prince’s guard pays attention to them.”
I just shook my head, using the rag to wipe away the sweat dripping down my hairline. Kai and his women. I liked him well enough, but I was glad he didn’t know I was a girl. He was attractive, I supposed, taller, with his light brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and his green eyes always crinkled at the corners from a constant smile. But if I had to pick the most handsome man on the guard, I definitely preferred Rylan’s warm brown eyes. His more subdued, quiet humor. The surprising gentleness he had with children and animals.
But then my thoughts strayed to the night before. Heat rose in my body as I remembered a different pair of eyes. Shockingly blue and —
“Alex?”
I jerked and blinked. “What?” Luckily, I’d been staring at nothing, instead of at someone. But I still had to fight not to blush.
“Are you tired? Do you need a longer break?” Rylan asked. I met his concerned gaze and quickly looked away. What was wrong with me? I had to stop thinking about Rylan and the prince or any other male like that.
“I’m fine.”
“We can wait longer if you need,” Deron agreed.
“What he needs is a good —”
“Kai, shut it,” Rylan cut him off.
“I said, I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.” I stormed back into the ring.
Rylan could read me better than I wanted to admit, because he was right, I was tired. The sleepless night was wearing on me. But I couldn’t afford to let it show. These last two men were the best from the previous rounds with the other guards. So far, the longest fight had lasted six minutes. One of them had to go longer than that, and the position would be his.
I took a deep breath and then nodded my signal.
The second-to-last man was only about an inch taller than me. He was thin, wiry, and he held the wooden sword loosely in his left hand. He obviously hadn’t made it this far on brute strength like many of the previous men. He must be more like me — fast, skilled.
A single raindrop splatted on my cheek, taking me by surprise as we lifted our swords up to our faces, acknowledging each other. I glanced up and noticed that the clouds had solidified into a gray tumult above us. Another drop hit my forehead and slipped down my nose as I looked back at my opponent. He wore a piece of fabric over his nose and mouth, hiding half his face from view. Above the covering, he had thick, ebony hair, eyes so dark they were nearly black, and olive skin. An unusual combination for the Antion nation. He must have been like me — someone with Blevonese heritage. The air felt charged as I stared at him, and a sudden chill ran down my spine. Something different — something I couldn’t put my finger on — hovered around him.
“Does the dust bother you?” I asked as we began to circle.
He didn’t answer.
I tightened my grip on my sword. So that’s how it was going to be. I didn’t want someone with an attitude on the guard with us, and I was more determined than ever to dispatch him in fewer than six minutes.
He finally lunged first, a quick jab that I easily deflected. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, he attacked and I parried, learning his movements, his method. He was good, but not remarkable. Not what I’d expected. I had a strange suspicion he was toying with me. It irked me that I couldn’t see his mouth; I couldn’t ascertain his expression other than from his dark, disconcerting eyes.
Raindrops continued to fall sporadically as the minutes wore on. A quick glance at Rylan confirmed what I was afraid of: He held up four fingers. Only two minutes remained to beat the masked opponent. Annoyed and unsettled, I began to attack him, rather than waiting, hitting him with a sudden frenzy of lunges and jabs. I spun and twisted and hit and hit and hit. More than once, I made contact, but he parried more of my blows than I expected, and the ones I did manage to get past his defenses didn’t knock him down. But the attack revealed a weakness on his right side; he wasn’t as fast at defending it. I faked to his left, and he took the bait. Before he could react, I twisted around and swung with all my might at his right side.
A killing hit. His eyes widened. He couldn’t get his arm around fast enough to block me. But just before my sword should have hit him, it collided with a barrier — as though I’d hit a wall instead of soft human flesh and bone. My arm vibrated from the impact and I very nearly lost my grip on the sword. Then, as though I’d imagined it, the barrier disappeared and the wooden blade hit his ribs. He groaned and fell to the ground as though nothing unusual had happened — as though I actually had knocked him to the dirt. I stood over him in confusion and shock, my grip loose on my weapon. It had all happened so fast, those watching probably didn’t even notice. But I knew he’d done something — something to stop my hit from hurting him. And then he’d pretended to lose.
He stood up and brushed himself off.
“Five minutes and twenty seconds,” Deron called out.
“Pity,” my opponent murmured and walked away as I stared after him. Despite the heat and the muggy humidity of the impending storm, an icy chill rushed over me, making goose bumps rise on my skin. Ignoring the final contender, who had stepped into the ring, I went over to where Deron stood watching. He tried to conceal the concern on his face.
“Is everything okay, Alex?”
“Who was that man?”
Deron glanced across the ring. When I followed his gaze, the masked contender was already striding away, not bothering to watch the final fight.
“He said his name was Eljin.”
“Is he a member of another palace guard? Does anyone know anything about him?”
Deron gave me a piercing look. “He’s supposedly in the army. You beat him, so why all the questions?”
I didn’t know if I dared mention my suspicions — that he was some sort of sorcerer. “I wondered why he wore the mask,” I finally answered, deciding to keep my thoughts to myself. If I had somehow imagined it and accused an innocent man of using sorcery, it would mean his death. “It was disconcerting and he wouldn’t answer me.”
I looked over to where the final opponent stood in the ring, waiting for me. Eljin had disappeared from sight.
“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”
I shrugged and turned away, just as the clouds burst open above us. Rain, so warm it felt like sweat, poured down on me, coating my face, drenching my short hair.
“Alex, are you sure that’s all?” Deron called after me.
I glanced back and nodded, ignoring the obvious worry on his face.
The last opponent shook my hand when I finally entered the ring, introduced himself as Mateo before taking a few steps back and lifting his sword to his face. Polite. He was good, too. Despite the driving rain a
nd the slippery mud beneath our feet, he was quick and strong. It took me just under seven minutes to beat him, by knocking his sword from his hand and leveling mine at his chest. Instead of looking frustrated or tired, he smiled happily through the rain pouring off his brown hair, after peering at Rylan to confirm that he’d lasted the longest.
“It was an honor to fight you for this position. We’ve heard all about how good you are,” he said as he came forward to shake my hand again.
“You’re very good as well. Welcome to the guard, Mateo.” I shook his hand, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to smile back. I was still cold from my encounter with Eljin. There were too many unanswered questions piling up — secret passageways, cryptic messages from Tanoori, assassination attempts, the prince himself, and now Eljin, who I was sure blocked my hit with sorcery. What had been his goal — why did he even try if he didn’t want to win? Why reveal his ability when he must know it could mean his death?
I didn’t like unanswered questions.
THE REST OF the prince’s guard was in a boisterous mood; those not on duty later were well on their way to getting flat-out drunk. Kai had two different women sitting on his lap, one on each leg. Even Jerrod was smiling as he listened to Asher tell a story. But I could barely make myself eat. Mateo fit into the guard well, but his presence served only to remind me that he was here because Marcel was dead.
And tomorrow, Tanoori would die as well.
It was all too much. My stomach roiled, threatening to heave up what little I’d managed to choke down.
“Going seven minutes against Alex is pretty impressive.” Jude pointed at Mateo. “Well, unless you’re my brother. He’s the only one who can last longer than ten minutes.”
Marcel could, too, I thought. But I remained silent.
“I’m still trying to learn everyone’s names,” Mateo admitted. “Which one is your brother again?”
“Rylan, over there next to Alex.” Jude gestured with his fork, splatting Jerrod with mashed sweet potatoes in the process. “He’s a master swordsman.”