Chapter V
Freyr
The scream I let out is extremely dignified and not high-pitched at all. Ducking behind the archery dummies is only preserving more of that dignity, not chipping away at it. If anyone says otherwise, I’ll… look very sternly at them.
“What are you doing?” Lain asks flatly, arching an extremely judgmental eyebrow at me.
As my second bodyguard, she should really have more respect for me than that.
Except that we’ve been friends since we were young, and she has no time for that nonsense.
Soren is better at being circumspect than her. They’re both looking at me
“Keeping my head firmly on my shoulders.” It’s a solid tactic and a pretty damn good goal, I think.
Nearby, Soren sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. That’s unwarranted. Running and hiding is valid when an opponent is so much stronger than you. Fight to live another day, right? I’m just following instructions.
“And when someone actually attacks you, this is the strategy you’re going for?” Lain asks dryly. “You think that’s going to help you keep your head on your shoulders?”
A trick question that I’m not going to answer if only to avoid incriminating myself further. “I have two bodyguards who will make sure that doesn’t happen.” Isn’t that the whole point of having them follow me around for all these years? They’re not just pretty ornaments. At least I hope not.
“We won’t be fodder for you.” She glances at Soren, who shares an amused look with her. “You’re not leaving this room until you’ve landed at least one hit.”
We could be here for years. That sounds like torture. I don’t think they’re paid to torture me. Although given my father’s version of tough love, maybe they are. Who needs enemies with bodyguards like these?
Browsing the weapons hanging on the wall doesn’t entice my enthusiasm.
There are three different swords—one curved, one broad, one rapier—a battle axe that looks bigger than my entire body, and a smaller axe—what the hell am I supposed to do with that?
Throw it? There’s also a bunch of star-looking things, which probably are for throwing, and something small and curved like a half-moon blade that looks wicked sharp.
No idea what it is, but it looks cool. I don’t want to use any of them, but I can appreciate how deadly they all are.
Lain advances, and I leave my hiding space, putting distance between us by retreating to the other side of the mat.
“All right, time out,” Soren growls, stepping onto the mat. Great, now there are two of them. He’s only wearing loose-fitting cloth pants with no shirt or shoes, and he still looks more dangerous than me. “Frey, get over here, right now.”
There’s no arguing with that voice. I keep a close eye on Lain and her weapon. Soren is armed as well—both of them always are—but he at least isn’t holding his right now. That makes him slightly less scary than the glint in Lain’s eyes.
“Find a weapon. I don’t care if it’s a stick off the ground or your shoe if it pleases you. Find one, and put it in your hands.” He pulls out his pocket watch from the inside of his black leather coat and checks it. “One hour. You have one hour to land a hit on Lain.”
“And if I can’t?”
Soren doesn’t answer, merely raising an eyebrow at me, and then walks off the mat, dismissing the question entirely.
Unlike Lain, he doesn’t give me a chance to argue with him about it. Smart or cowardly? I’m at least smart enough not to ask that. Or take off a shoe. I don’t want to be outmatched and unbalanced.
I pick the rapier because it’s more lightweight and gives me more flexibility to get the hell out of the way when Lain does impressive moves I couldn’t do even if I had a lifetime to practice.
My skill is in running away. Hiding too.
Talking? I’m able to speak; I don’t know if I’d say I was particularly skilled at it.
It’s more like two hours—maybe even three—before Soren decides I’m done for the day. I decide not to mention it since the glower he’s sending me is enough to keep my mouth firmly shut.
Sweat pours from my face, and every limb in my body aches. Twice. The aching may never leave, and I’ll be stuck with it for eternity.
“Your stamina is terrible,” Lain remarks, watching me with a laconic smirk.
I grab a towel from the rack and wipe my face, ignoring her totally uncalled-for comment. I kept going until Soren blew the whistle, didn’t I? That’s impressive for me.
“So,” she says, leaning her shoulder against the rack. “Where’s your lycan? I heard he made quite the entrance; I’m sad I missed it.”
I wish I’d missed it. I’ve never seen a wild beast like that.
Untamed, barely controlled, dangerous. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me the entire night he’d been chained to the wall, with zero interest in all the gawkers walking past him to catch a glimpse.
His stare had been intense, weirdly compelling, and entirely uncomfortable.
I’d left as soon as I was able to and have tried desperately not to think about it since.
Failed, of course, but failure is my lot in life.
“He’s downstairs, in one of the holding rooms,” Soren answers for me, after my pause goes on for too long. We have holding rooms? What for?
Lain blinks at me. “Wait, you mean you don’t know?”
“Why would I?” I return defensively. Was I supposed to follow them when they put him somewhere?
Stay with him? I didn’t ask for him to be brought here.
The war that determined the current status quo in the world happened well before my time, and I’ve never been interested in learning the history or why the lycans bow to us.
I’ve never even seen outside the walls guarding the castle grounds.
My whole existence has started and ended here.
I know nothing about the ones who attempt to hide from us, to live outside our influence in the world.
I think some use the humans as a shield, hiding their nature by living as humans.
It’s not something that I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about.
Or thought I ever would. I’m in a gilded cage I’m too scared to ever leave, no matter how much I think I might want to.
Now I’m to be responsible for one? No.
“Frey, your father expects you to tame it,” Lain says slowly. She sheaths her sword and crosses her arms over her chest. “You can’t just ignore a direct order like that.”
“Maybe you can’t, but what is he gonna do to me? Scold me and tell me to stay in my room?”
“You think he can’t make your life more uncomfortable?” Soren says, raising an eyebrow.
Ignoring them both, I wipe my face again and then throw the towel back over the rack for someone else to deal with. If we’re done here, I have better things to do. Not sure what they are, but I’m sure they’re better.
Soren stops me with a hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say a word, only searches my face, obviously concerned. I’m expecting some kind of reprimand, another statement about my obligations as prince. Instead, he says, “I’ll escort you to your room.”
Why is he giving me a reprieve? Doesn’t matter, I’m taking it.
Lain stays in the training room, righting the equipment and dealing with the cleaning. She doesn’t allow any of the servants in there or anyone but us when we’re training.
Soren doesn’t say a word as we walk the long halls, random vampyres bowing to us as we go.
I’ve always hated the way they act around me, the way they only care who I am because of the man who sired me.
I had nothing to do with it, and what I wouldn’t give for the anonymity of being a nobody.
To be able to hide in the shadows and be left alone sounds like a dream.
“Have you heard anything about Nico?” Soren asks when we’re on the home stretch, my suites just ahead.
“No.” The vampyre hunter that Soren is close with wouldn’t ever contact me directly, but word travels fast here. I’m more likely to hear something than Soren since he keeps to himself and isn’t… the friendliest vampyre around. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. He went out on a hunt a few nights ago, and we haven’t heard from him since.”
“Is that unusual?” Nicolai can be gone for weeks at a time on a hunt. He’s been like that the whole time I’ve known him. He’s not exactly a chatterbox, and he likes his personal space. It doesn’t take a genius to work out why he and Soren are friends. “I bet he’s fine.”
Soren gives a sharp nod, cutting the conversation short. He stops at my door and halts me from going in. “Are you staying here for the rest of the night?”
“Yeah, you’re off the hook.”
“What a relief.” He tugs a strand of my hair that’s brushed over my temple. “You did good today.”
“That’s not true at all.” I give him a lopsided smile. “But thanks for saying it.”
“Not everyone is born to be a fighter. We don’t expect you to go to war or even fight if you don’t need to. You’re right that it’s our job to ensure you aren’t in a position to need these skills. We simply want you to be able to protect yourself if the need arises; we want you safe.”
It’s not that I don’t know that. It’s just harder to remember when they’re trying to take my head off with blades and showing me just how much more impressive they are than I’ll ever be.
They move with enviable ease and make it look easy when I know it’s not.
I’ll never be like them. I’ll never really be important, no matter what my last name is. I’m a trophy, nothing more.
Soren slides a hand down the back of my head and squeezes my nape. “Call for me if you plan on leaving.”
“I know the drill.” We’ve been doing this song and dance for decades.
A loud roar erupts around us, the walls almost vibrating from the strength of it.
“What the hell was that?”
Soren frowns, opens my door, and then shoves me through it unceremoniously. “Stay in here.”