Chapter 20
Raban
I open my eyes as night falls, and instantly there’s a smile on my face. There is a princess in the castle again. A beautiful, fierce princess, more worthy of the title than any we have served before.
I stretch out my wings and descend to the courtyard, looking around for her.
It has been seven nights since she returned to us, and I no longer wake afraid I’ll find her in pieces again.
The sight of her poor body ripped to shreds by monsters is one I’ll never forget as long as I’m whole.
I think if I had a heart it would have been ripped into pieces right then, but luckily I’m only made of stone.
I catch sight of her sitting atop a crumbling wall, and immediately I spread my wings and leap up to meet her. She looks around and greets me warmly. “Good morning—well goodnight really, I suppose. That will take some getting used to.”
“If you call it morning, then it will be morning. What should we do today?”
“The same thing we do every day. Train me to kill.”
I wish I could smooth out the lines of worry at her brow. Not that they mar her beauty, but I wish I could take away all her cares and leave her only happiness. I cannot, so I concentrate on giving her what she wants instead. “Yes, princess. Come, let me wrap your hands.”
She frowns. “I want to try again without. It makes me cumbersome.”
That worries me. The first few nights she rubbed her fingers raw over and over before she admitted how much they pained her. Since her magic prevents her from forming scars or calluses, she can’t build up the resistance she needs to train with the sword for hours, but that won’t stop her.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
By now I know that glint in her eyes. She will not relent.
I sigh. Standing, I hold out my hand for her, and she places her smaller one in mine. I wrap my other arm around her and lift, gently carrying her down to the ground before releasing her, though I wish I did not need to.
She begins by running through the movements évandre showed her. He is the most skilled of us with a weapon. Oftentimes Corvin and I would fight with our bare hands, swooping down to snap the necks of our enemies or scratch with sharp claws.
She moves gracefully, already more fluid and natural with her sword. It is too long for her, but she compensates well, and it is the best we can do. I wish we could have a special blade made for her, but, of course, that is impossible.
Today she is finished quickly with the drills and calls évandre over. “I want a real opponent. I am ready.”
My tail flicks against the stone of the wall where I sit, but thankfully évandre shakes his head. “Not yet, princess.”
I relax back into my seat, but as I do, Corvin picks up a sword from the array we laid out for the princess, swiping it through the air in a few practice strokes to loosen up his muscles.
“Do you think this huntsman is going to go easy on her if he comes? Do you think he will hold back because she’s not ready?
I doubt it. Come, princess. I will fight you. "
The princess turns to him, knees bent, sword at the ready. She already moves like a warrior. I worry still. One failed parry…
“She cannot die,” calls Corvin when he catches sight of the nervous expression on my face. “Stop worrying.”
“I do not like it.”
Ignoring me, he strides forward, thrusting a blow which the princess easily deflects.
Unable to sit still, I leap from the wall, lingering impatiently by the edge of their training ground.
My chest tightens every time my brother lunges, every time the princess must dodge and parry.
It excites me to see her fighting back, but she is still far slower than Corvin. He easily outpaces her.
He lazily blocks a blow aimed at his neck, spinning and slicing with his sword and narrowly missing her belly.
The princess laughs aloud and redoubles her efforts until she finally has him on the retreat.
Just as she gets close, he leaps into the air, beating his wings once then tucking them and twisting to land directly behind her.
I dart forward, pushing him roughly out of the way into the dirt before he can continue his attack. “You do not fight fair!”
The princess spins, her sword arcing through the air directly at my face, and I’m forced to duck quickly or lose my head.
Her eyes widen. “Raban! What are you doing?”
Corvin stands, brushing dirt from himself and scowling at me. “Yes, Raban, what are you doing?”
“I do not like it. This is not our purpose.”
Corvin takes a step closer, chest puffed out, and I know he is ready to argue, but I stand my ground.
évandre strides over and places a hand on both our shoulders. “Enough. The princess has asked us to help her train. To serve is our purpose.”
I sigh, looking to her for a resolution. “There is no need to worry,” she says gently. “I am not made of glass. But if it will make you feel better, why not be my shield bearer? You can step in if things become too dangerous.”
Standing close to her to protect her does not sound so arduous. I nod hesitantly. “If it pleases you.”
“You are so sweet to worry about me,” she says. “But I am stronger than I have ever been. And Corvin is right. Alaric will not fight honorably. That much I know.”
“You do not have to fight him,” I tell her. “We could take care of him for you.”
“No. I must. I will never let anyone take power from me again.”