35. Perfect Sync
Chapter thirty-five
Perfect Sync
T hey stood on the training field, away from the curious eyes of the market below. Their stances mirror images of each other.
“Swords, elements, or both?” Solveig called over her shoulder as she withdrew the wooden training swords from their stowage.
“Both. Let’s make this interesting.” He smirked. Solveig threw him a sword, and he manipulated the air around it so that it landed gracefully in his waiting hand.
“Ready, Princess?” Emmerich raised a brow.
“Are you?” she bit back, before launching her first attack.
They moved as though they were part of a dance that only they knew the steps too. Left, right, right, left, forward, back. She struck, he parried and on it went. Wooden swords clashed, sticking together from the force for a moment. Emmerich drew close, breaths hard, skin flushed.
“You’re toying with me,” he accused, as her scent engulfed his senses.
Solveig blinked, eyes shining as her hands clenched tighter around the hilt. “I was merely trying to spare your ego.”
“Did I ask you to go easy on me?”
“No.”
He pushed down on their swords, leaning into her space, “then let go,” he whispered, never once breaking eye contact. He saw the darkness descend, the wicked gleam that edged her gaze now.
“There’s no need to beg.” She inhaled the scent of his skin like a hunter would their prey. Wrenching her sword free, she spun out to land a blow on his back. “We’ll pretend that was a flesh wound.” She smirked as Emmerich turned to follow, striking out with his sword, a move she deflected with ease.
The vibrations reverberated through their bones. Sweat graced both their brows despite the chill. They drew an audience. Small at first but rapidly growing as word spread around the guild of the two royals engaged in battle; meeting each other blow for blow, in perfect sync.
Solveig reached out with her power to draw the lingering damp from her pants. She manipulated it to spread on the ground around the prince, creating a slick mud patch beneath his feet. Emmerich lost his balance momentarily, and that was all the opening she needed.
She moved to strike his unguarded left flank, but he threw up a shield with his Aire to protect himself. With his concentration distracted, Solveig drew more water into the ground, this time causing him to lose his balance entirely. He landed in a heap with the point of Solveig’s sword pressed against the hollow of his neck.
“You should be less ambitious with your choice of opponent, Prince. You rely too much on your right side, leaving your left unguarded.”
Emmerich gritted his teeth as he realised how easily she had read him. “Help me up, would ya,” he snapped, and Solveig held out a hand to him, a smug grin on her face at the sight of him riled up. The tension creeping into his usually calm stance. Yet she didn’t release his hand right away, pulling him closer to her instead, until she could smell the warm amber of his skin mingled with the fresh air.
Her voice trembling slightly as she spoke. “You don’t have to tell me why you don’t use your left side to fight. That’s your business, but you must learn how to use it in some capacity.” Her voice hardened. “If you ever want to stand a chance against comparable opponents, or even those who aren’t under your command.” She dropped his hand, taking a step back so she could look him in the eye.
“That was always the benefit of growing up magically weak, Prince, an advantage you have failed to realise. When my magic failed me, I had to learn other ways to protect myself. You rely too much on something that another elemental could easily stifle. Strength of arms, however, is something no one can ever take away from you.”
“Who did you need to protect yourself from?” he whispered, eyes narrowing.
“Everyone who ever underestimated me,”
Emmerich made as if to say something, but Solveig beat him to it. “I’m done here Prince. Meet me tomorrow at the Grand Library. Perhaps some mental investigations will give your wounded pride time to heal.”
The tavern stank. Cheap watered-down ale, stale piss, and rotted wood. It was the perfect place to go unseen. Dark enough for the dregs of society to come and play without being disturbed.
This was where the prince found himself that night, sat in the back in a shadowed alcove, nursing a warm ale, as he stared at the cloaked woman before him.
“It was you who got the message to Elithiend, wasn’t it?”
“Your Highness,” the woman started, her accent strange, as though born of many places.
“You got close to them. You’re on the inside. Tell me how she died?”
“I did not see the princess that night, beyond bringing them supper. It’s possible someone slipped something into the duchess’s food either before or after that, but I cannot be certain.”
“And her death?”
“Exactly the same as her son’s, it appears.”
The prince mulled that over silently as the woman continued, “I know you think little of the princess, but I believe you can trust her. She isn’t as enthralled with her family as she may appear.”
“She’s murdered for them before and has continued too since I arrived,” he fired back.
“Perhaps, but things are changing. I can feel it. Don’t give up on her. She needs someone to believe she can be better than what she has become.”
“It cannot be me,” the prince said resolutely. “I have a duty to my people. I can’t risk exposing them to her.”
“You underestimate your people, and her.”
“If she has changed, as you claim, why would she murder that girl’s parents?”
“I have no answers for the decisions the princess makes, Your Highness. I’m not in her head. All I know is that not everything is as it appears.”
The prince dropped a heavy velvet pouch on the wooden table between them, the coins within rattled against each other. “For your continued discretion and service.”
The woman nodded in silent acceptance. She grabbed the bag and made her way out to the alley. The blue glow of a sconce revealed deep red hair in a low bun, against freckled pale skin before she winked it out with a flick of her wrist. The action hid her from the view of the figure above, lurking between the chimney stacks. They watched them both come and go before disappearing into the night.