5. Rivalry and Reprieve
“ C are for a quick spar with me, brother?”
On his way to start training early, Adrian turned to the sound of Dimitri’s voice. His brother fell into step beside him, and they made their way through the blowing snow to the training grounds. On an icy gust, Dimitri pulled his heavy fur cloak more securely around him. Being a vampire, Adrian wasn’t as susceptible to the cold and wore a lighter cloak over his uniform.
In warm weather, they trained outside, but with winter raging, they made their way to one of the large arenas with equipment racks along the wall. They hung their cloaks near the door and then chose weapons, silently agreeing on swords.
“What brought this on?”
“Thought it would be fun.”
Choosing thin and lightweight weapons, they tested their weight and balance. Glancing at Dimitri, Adrian said, “You know I’m going to kick your ass.”
Dimitri laughed. “We’ll see about that, you cocky bastard.”
Walking to the center of the large open space, they took position facing each other several paces apart. And began the dance of blades: stepping, swinging, retreating, blocking, ducking, and turning to evade. The blades clanged, clashed, and hissed against each other.
Though they were royalty and had their own militias, they were expected to be the best soldiers. Trained from a very young age, they knew not only how to handle a variety of swords as well as axes, maces, a variety of lances and pikes, and smaller daggers, they were also adept at archery, as well as self-defense weaponless.
Dimitri was at a disadvantage being human—his reflexes weren’t nearly as quick, nor his vision or hearing as sensitive as that of a vampire. Because of that, Dimitri spent extra time training.
“You’ve much improved, brother,” Adrian said amiably, blocking a strike. A second later, Dimitri lunged. Adrian blocked again, laughing at the ferocity on his brother’s face. The dance grew quicker. It remained elegant as blade met blade, the skill apparent in the fluid way they moved, like it was effortless, though it was far from it.
Soldiers began arriving for training, forming a loose circle around them. Excitement filled the air as they talked animatedly, watching the match.
“I’ve heard quite a lot recently about that new slave you acquired,” Dimitri said as they paused to reset, twirling his sword in a show of nonchalant grace.
Trying not to show his distraction at the mention of her, Adrian simply raised an eyebrow. He wondered if this was the real motive behind Dimitri wanting to spar. “Do tell, brother. I’m dying of curiosity at what the gossip-mongers are saying.”
Dimitri laughed and lunged. “I heard you pulled her from the washrooms to work for you privately. ”
“Privately?” Surprised by the word, Adrian faltered in the counter-attack following his block. Dimitri avoided him, swung with accuracy, and his blade sliced through the fabric of Adrian’s sleeve.
Dimitri grinned and tsked . “Careful, brother, or I’ll think I struck a nerve.”
Adrian sneered, spinning his sword in hand as they circled. The soldiers cheered and called encouragement.
“Lucky strike,” Adrian said, no longer affable. He hated being bested, hated more that Dimitri was right about having struck a nerve, and he didn’t even understand why .
Beginning again, Adrian moved faster, more focused and fiercer, refusing to give his brother another inch. He would not lose, in this or anything.
“I heard you’ve called her to your chambers twice and question your taste. Though I’ve not seen her personally, I hear she’s quite ugly. Surely, your Lucinda would be better for a quick bedding.”
“It is Larkin that is fond of the slave, not I.”
“Of course, Adrian, of course. Anything for your pet. He certainly deserves it, doesn’t he? Lounging about all day, spoiled by the palace food—”
“He hunts. ” Adrian lunged for a series of quick strikes that surprised Dimitri into falling back and struggling to keep up.
“Does the palace menu give him indigestion?” Dimitri mocked, shoving Adrian away from him.
Before Dimitri could recover, Adrian lunged again, his lightning-fast blade cutting shallowly into the flesh of Dimitri’s upper arm. As they stood heaving for breath, sweat dripping, Adrian’s nostrils flared. The scent of blood, being his brother’s, didn’t make him hunger, but it did set off predatory instincts he had to repress .
“Perhaps we should have used the practice swords,” Adrian said. It was an insult of the highest order; they hadn’t used the wooden toys since they were boys. “It seems you’re still delicate.”
“Not as delicate as your precious slave,” Dimitri retorted. “Since she is so special, perhaps I will check her out myself.”
Adrian tried to adopt a bored expression. He didn’t want his brother anywhere near Rose, but he couldn’t let on. If he did, Dimitri would exploit the weakness.
“If you’re not too hurt”—he flashed his fangs, and eyed Dimitri’s bloody arm—“perhaps we should train.”
“Of course.” Dimitri stepped back, all smiles, the affable mask back in place. “Let’s teach the troops a thing or two.”
At the end of a few hours, Adrian washed the dust and sweat from his skin in a lukewarm bath. The addition of several herbs helped ease the ache in his muscles. After dressing, he settled in his office with a cup of warm blood, working on business matters, answering requests and correspondence, and reading reports from the various shops and properties he owned or supported.
His blacksmith needed ore, which meant headaches since he and his father were still in the middle of negotiations with the dwarves. Living in villages near the not-so-distant Frostpeak Mountains, they owned and worked the mines, trading with not only Crimson City but settlements across the kingdom. The raw materials they dug, as well as the goods they created, were always pricey because not only were they skilled craftsmen but astute in business.
Adrian longed to buy one of those villages and claim ownership over one of those mines to avoid the hassle of constantly negotiating, but the dwarves were a proud race and refused. Not only did they value independence, but they also demanded ample compensation.
Sighing, he penned an explanation of the nature of things to his blacksmith, stating his hope to reach an agreement soon, and moved on to a quarterly report on a marble quarry he owned—how much had been dug, to whom and where it had been sold, and the profit.
Working in the dim light he preferred, he moved through his documents until he came to the last of his business—a request from Mrs. Hawthorne for more maid’s uniforms. She’d listed the type and quantity of exactly what she needed, efficient as always, and he quickly signed his approval.
It was time to meet with his bookkeeper again, he thought, to go over all his accounts for a more concise picture of his monetary flows. Though he knew his businesses were doing well, as the numbers were clear on the reports, he liked seeing everything neatly lined up and clearly stated. Concise. He penned a request, pressed his seal to the envelope, and sent it off.
Moving on to the pile of personal correspondence, a cloud of perfume wafted up. Grimacing, he waved a hand to clear the air. He tossed many envelopes unopened into his cold fireplace simply because of their offense. He’d burn the lot later.
One letter, however, was unscented, as she knew he hated such things. Lady Julianna, the darling of the capital, was the daughter of Duke Clearwater. Aside from his mother’s, they were the only human ducal family, and she was his highest bridal prospect .
Her letter mostly stated her melancholy over the cold and her desire for a quick arrival of spring. She so loved the sun and the flowers and blah blah blah. She wished to return to the capital from her family’s lands in the west and couldn’t wait for the season to start so she could see him again. She so missed him and the parties where they could see each other and their friends, the teas, the dresses, and all the shopping her parents let her do . . .
Adrian grew bored, so he set the letter aside, deciding not to reply right away.
Instead, he walked to the window to stare out at the expanse of swirling snow. Several more inches had fallen since the earlier evening, and it didn’t look about to let up with the arrival of the dawn. He didn’t mind, as, unlike Lady Julianna, the cold suited him.
When Larkin in his hawk form landed on his shoulder, he immediately stroked the bird’s warm breast. A barely-there smile tugged the corners of his mouth as Larkin rubbed his head on his cheek in an affectionate greeting.
“I’d ask where you were, but I’m sure I know.” He glanced sideways at his pet. “You’ve stirred up a mess with that one, my friend. Is she so worth the risk to my reputation?”
Larkin ruffled his feathers indignantly, squeezed Adrian’s shoulder with his sharp talons, and gave a highly annoyed kreeee .
“No need to be testy,” Adrian said fondly in response, stroking Larkin’s breast again. “She will remain protected.”
Larkin calmed, turning to the picturesque view out the window.
Soon, the Assembly would meet, but for the moment, Adrian enjoyed the rare moment of peace with his pet.