Chapter 13
I didn’t think I would sleep. Not after having that long, exhausted nap earlier in the afternoon, but with a belly full of delicious food, I’d fallen into oblivion as soon as my head hit the pillow.
I’d expected it to be weird to share a bedroom with the others, but I didn’t even notice them. I slept so deeply and completely that when I woke, it took me a moment to remember where I was.
I’d only woken because of the noise. A loud clanging dragged me from unconsciousness when it was still dark. The others began moving immediately, strapping on swords and lacing boots as if the obnoxious noise was nothing.
‘Wake up, Princess,’ Tain snarled. ‘No one will be saving your breakfast for you while you sleep.’
Tain had ignored me all night after I’d eaten my dinner. I didn’t know if the other female members had just followed her lead or if they also had a problem with me, but they had also ignored me. The men in the group at least acknowledged my existence even if they didn’t speak to me directly. I hadn’t contributed to the conversation, choosing to just listen. If I was quiet enough, maybe I would hear something I wasn’t supposed to.
No such luck, though. And after a while, I’d been yawning, and my eyes had been drooping. It was a struggle to stay awake until everyone else started moving in an unspoken agreement that it was time to sleep.
Parisar had stayed away from me and had barely looked at me. I didn’t know how to feel about that. I’d exposed my weakness to him, and I wondered just what he would do with it.
I followed the others out into the common room. Someone else had cooked breakfast, and I was surprised to see eggs and meat…bacon if my nose was to be trusted. I hadn’t seen any pigs anywhere. For that matter, there had been meat in the meal the night before, but I had no idea where it came from.
I took my seat, the only one left. It was right on the corner of the table as if it had been put there as an afterthought. I looked around the table. There were eight of us, so we should have fit comfortably around the table but no, I had been relegated to the corner like an outsider. I sighed and ate my meal in silence.
After breakfast I did the dishes and made the beds—another job I hadn’t expected to be so strenuous. When my maids did it, making the bed seemed an easy enough job, but it was more than just pulling the blankets up. After doing seven beds, I was much more appreciative of the work Greta and the others did.
With nothing left to do until after lunch, I decided to find Weylei. If he was on cooking duty again, maybe I could try helping him. But it wasn’t Weylei preparing lunch, it was Breust. The very last thing I wanted to do was spend any time in close quarters with him, so I turned and walked away, following the sounds of clanging swords.
The sparring I had witnessed the day before was nothing to what I saw happening in the yard this time. Parisar and Cor were in the centre, and the other members were sitting on the fence, watching them and cheering at different moments.
Staying away from the others, I climbed up on the fence to watch too. Cor had removed her wolf pelt, and her bare arms were muscled and sinewy. Her focus was on Parisar with such intent that I feared for his safety. The last thing I would wish for was to face Cor with a sword in her hand. I’d assumed the wolf pelt she wore was from a wolf she’d killed, but now I knew it to be true.
Parisar was just as impressive, and I was surprised. Of course I’d known he was skilled with a sword, but I hadn’t known it was for actual warfare. The lords sparred for exhibition during the festivals of Eudaimonia, and Parisar was a champion and crowd favourite. But those exhibition matches had nothing on what I was currently witnessing.
Parisar moved like water. I didn’t even really understand it. Yesterday, when Breust had been fighting, he’d moved with brute strength, even if it was pared down. There was strength in the way Parisar moved, but also a grace and a lightness that seemed to defy the laws of nature.
Cor matched him stroke for stroke. She was just as graceful, maybe more so. Her steps were lighter, and the way she moved…if Parisar was water, Cor was air. They twisted and swirled around one another in a blur of movement and the sound of metal crashing against metal as their swords met.
It was a dance.
It was breathtaking.
I wanted to be Cor when I grew up.
I didn’t know who was winning. I didn’t care.
‘Would you like a turn?’
I turned to look at Breust, who had come up to stand beside me, one foot on the bottom rung of the fence, arms crossed on the top rung next to where I sat.
‘Me?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘You look like you want a turn.’
‘I would like to stab Parisar,’ I said, and that earned me a deep chuckle from the man beside me.
‘We have all wanted to do that a time or two,’ he admitted.
I sighed. ‘But I don’t know how. I don’t think I could even lift one of those swords. I tried to play with my father’s sword once, and all I managed to do was put a deep scratch in the stone floor when I tried to lift it.’
‘You don’t start with a sword that size,’ he said. ‘Those two have been fighting and training for years. You start with this.’
He held up a small wooden sword that looked like a child’s toy. I didn’t know if he was trying to humiliate me or whether he was serious.
‘Ahh…no, thanks,’ I said. I had been humiliated enough, there was no need for me to willingly open myself up to more.
He looked at the toy sword and then grinned at me. ‘I know what it looks like, and you’re right. Children play with these, but play is a form of training. They learn with these, and as they grow, so do the swords until they graduate to full size.’
‘I appreciate the thought,’ I said, eyeing the wooden sword again.
‘Suit yourself,’ Breust said, straightening. ‘I’ll leave it here in case you change your mind.’
He leaned the sword against the fence and sauntered away, not looking back.
The bout in the yard had finished. Parisar and Cor were talking with the other members, discussing techniques, or so I assumed. I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but their movements hinted at the subject. I looked down at the sword again. If I wanted to be more than a burden, if I wanted to be able to protect myself if Parisar turned out to be the enemy and not my saviour, then learning to use a sword would help, right? But how could I do that without making a fool of myself?
I hopped down from the fence and picked up the wooden blade. It felt good in my hand. Sturdy. The weight was comfortable and the grip was the perfect size for my hand. With a quick look over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching me, I took a couple of practise swings.
Breust had given me the sword, so would he also be willing to teach me how to use it? Without making a fool of me?
After lunch—which was better than I expected considering Breust was the cook—everyone separated to their assigned chores. I did the dishes again, some of them repaired clothing, others sharpened swords or did maintenance of other weapons, and someone was chopping wood. Still others disappeared into the woods for I don’t know what.
When I’d finished the dishes, and the kitchen was put back to rights, I went to find the wooden sword Breust had given me. Before lunch, I’d tucked it under my mattress and now, as I grabbed it, I made sure no one was watching me. Breust might very well be willing to help me, but I wanted to familiarise myself with the weapon first.
While everyone was busy, I took the opportunity to explore the ‘village’. I already knew where the kitchen building was, and beside it I discovered the meat locker. The stone structure was cold and unidentifiable carcasses hung from the rafters. Unidentifiable to me. I’m sure those on the cooking rotation knew exactly what the meat was.
I backed out and closed the door before moving toward the stable near the training ground. I could hear voices inside, so I stayed out of sight as I peeked around the frame of the cavernous door. It was what I expected a barn or stable to look like. Stalls ran along the edges with an open space in the middle. There was a second floor with a ladder leading up, the structural integrity of which I questioned. The voices were coming from one of the stalls. They were discussing training techniques as far as I could tell. It probably would be advantageous for me to stay and listen, but I didn’t understand the terminology they used. Words like parry and block, I knew, the others, not so much.
I moved on, crossing the large open space in front of the main house and skirting the edge of the fire pit. There were three buildings on this side of the compound. The first one I checked, the one farthest from the house, was locked. I couldn’t even see in through any cracks in the siding.
Why was it locked? I added that question to the growing list in my head and moved on.
The next building was storage and the third was easily recognisable, or at least it was now that the forge had been lit. It was a blacksmith building, and I watched, fascinated as Zeyr used a heavy hammer to pound the hot metal on the anvil. He was sweaty and breathing hard, and it was incredible to witness. He was always so quiet and reserved, and he was the last person I expected to be able to work metal. If I had to assign things like that to the group, I would have picked Breust as the blacksmith, not Zeyr.
The sound of pounding from another section of the compound stole my attention. It wasn’t pounding so much as chopping. I drifted away from the blacksmith building and saw the wood pile. Keeping close to the edge of the pile and out of direct line of sight of the person chopping wood, I edged around until I could see them.
I drew in a breath in a quick hiss.
Parisar.
Parisar swinging an axe.
Parisar shirtless, swinging an axe with such precision that I could hardly believe this was the same man who had swanned around court in silk and lace.
My eyes travelled over him and marvelled at the flex and movement of his muscles as he swung the axe high and then brought it down swiftly. He worked with an easy rhythm, almost as if he enjoyed the task. I certainly enjoyed watching him. It felt illicit. Exciting.
This Parisar and the one I knew from the castle were so different. I had a hard time reconciling that they were the same person. The Parisar I had known was arrogant and pompous and walked around court like everyone was adoring him. He’d had an air about him that told the world he was the centre of everything, and it was the reason I had suspected him in the first place. He behaved as if he was the heir, not me.
But this Parisar…he was different. And it was more than just seeing what was beneath his silk shirts. This Parisar was still commanding, but in this place, it was the confident aura of natural leadership, not the arrogance of privilege I’d witnessed in the castle. This Parisar cooked and chopped wood and…I supposed he did other chores too. Tain had hinted at such. In the castle, that Parisar had ordered servants around with barely a glance of acknowledgement. He hadn’t lifted a finger unless absolutely necessary, and then he did it with disdain.
How could two men be so entirely opposite and yet inhabit the same body?
I wasn’t na?ve enough to think he was literally two people, but which was the truth and which was the lie? Was this Parisar the real one and the one in the castle an act? Or was this the act?
‘Are you just going to stand there and watch, or are you going to help?’ Parisar said as he swung the axe down and split a log neatly in half.
Embarrassment burned my cheeks, but I stepped out from behind the pile and held my head high. I refused to let him make me feel small.
‘You look like you know what you’re doing,’ I said as he swung again. ‘Did your father teach you?’
He didn’t react to my jab. I doubted very much that Lord Adryon had ever even held an axe, let alone swung one.
‘No, one of our manservants did,’ he replied.
That surprised me. ‘Part of your lordling training?’ I asked.
‘A lord should be well-versed in all aspects of his land and houses,’ Parisar said as if reciting from a lesson he’d heard often.
Another surprise.
He stopped and looked up at me, his eyes tracing over me. ‘Are you okay, now?’ he asked, his gaze landing on my finger, which was no longer bound in a bandage.
I held it up for him to see, although we both knew he wasn’t talking about the cut. ‘It was just a small cut,’ I said.
He looked at my finger and then at my face before he nodded. His eyes roamed over me again and then snagged on the sword I was trying to hide behind my back.
‘Where did you get that?’ he asked.
I thought he’d be angry or amused or…I don’t know, mocking, maybe? But his question was curious without any condescension.
‘Breust gave it to me,’ I said. ‘He thought I might like to learn how to fight.’
Parisar nodded slowly and then lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his face. I’m ashamed to admit my eyes dropped to his chest and the dance of his muscles at the movement. This was another thing that was completely unreconcilable about the man in front of me. He stood without a shirt on in front of his princess, and he was entirely without concern for the impropriety.
‘Is Breust going to teach you, then?’ he asked, and my eyes darted back to his.
Had he caught me looking at his body? His expression gave nothing away and I pretended it hadn’t happened too.
‘He offered, but I thought I might just try it by myself first. I was looking for somewhere to practise.’
I had wanted to keep my training a secret, but what other reason could I give him for carrying a wooden sword around? I could always tell him later that it hadn’t been fun and I had given up.
He used his head to indicate something behind me. I turned to look.
‘There’s an unused building over there,’ he said. ‘It’s in pretty bad shape, but it should be safe enough for you to swing a sword around.’
I could only just make out the structure tucked into the edge of the woods. The stone walls were almost covered with vines, but the roof looked solid enough.
‘I could probably scrounge up a bow and some arrows for you too,’ he said.
My eyebrows rose in surprise.
Parisar scoffed. ‘I know how much you like to shoot things,’ he said with a smirk. ‘And I’d much rather you shoot a target than me.’
I couldn’t resist smirking in return. ‘Thank you,’ I said, turning to go toward the abandoned building.
‘Princess,’ he called, stopping me. I turned back to face him. ‘If you need help…you can always ask me.’
I didn’t know if he was talking about the sword training or the emotional breakdown from the day before. I supposed it didn’t really matter because I wouldn’t be asking for his help for anything.
‘Thank you,’ I replied primly and turned back to the building that would become my new practise room.