The Prince
I weaved through the sheer silver decorative curtains and entered the training room. Flashing shamshirs and quick footwork slipped past me as soldiers deep in training sparred. I walked along the edge of the chamber, a simmering frustration rising in me.
I kept close to the shifting curtains at the perimeter of the chamber.
No one had seen me yet. They were too concentrated on their matches.
I approached Zeki. He was smiling broadly, holding a wooden sword as he stared down at Omid.
My little brother was grinning just as large.
Zeki must have agreed to something he shouldn’t have.
My bodyguard spotted me and snapped to attention.
Omid turned, his smile growing even wider, if such a thing were possible.
My own lips twitched in response, a familiar warmth filling my chest that my siblings never failed to elicit.
“Day! Zeki is going to teach me your move!”
I glanced at Zeki, who suddenly found great interest in the wooden sword. “Is he now?”
Zeki looked up with a sheepish glance. “I was going to demonstrate it.”
“Please let him, Day!” Omid turned his large eyes on me, powerful weapons he used at every opportunity.
I wavered before shaking my head. “It is a dangerous move. We will teach you when you grow a bit taller.”
Omid pouted, sticking out his lower lip before he held up his fingers. “This much taller?”
I reached down, widening the gap between his fingers. “More like this much.”
“When I pass Del?”
I nodded, noticing Zeki turn to laugh discreetly. Our little sister had maintained her height over Omid despite the one-year difference in their ages, and she never failed to remind him.
“When you pass Del,” I repeated before frowning. “Where is your sister?” They were usually stuck together.
Omid deflated at the question. “She is with the healers.”
I flinched. “I see.” I ruffled his hair. “Brother Zeki will teach you some other moves.” I pulled to my full height, leveling Zeki with a stare. “Simple ones.”
Zeki bowed his head, hiding his grin. “As you wish, shahzadem.”
I felt Omid’s eyes on me and looked down. He was frowning, staring at the lower half of my face.
“What happened to your lip?”
I brushed the spot and a sliver of pain greeted me. I experienced a small measure of peace knowing Farani would likely stab me if I approached her again. She would bury this strange attachment in no time.
“A lesson. This is what happens when you underestimate your opponent. You must always be on guard.”
Omid nodded, taking my words to heart. “Was it Zeki?”
“It was another warrior.”
Zeki leaned in with Omid to learn the details of who had managed to land a blow on their prince.
“And that is all I shall say.”
They sighed. I almost smiled again, wincing when the action tugged at my lip.
Loud conversation drifted toward us, and I turned.
The soldiers had all gathered in a circle around a match.
Two men faced each other. I placed their features: Bahir’s bodyguard, Lapi, and Javed, Wazir Elmas’s planted gossip collector.
“Where is Shahzadeh Bahir? We haven’t seen him since the wedding,” Javed said.
Lapi snarled at the question, and his grip on his shamshir tightened. “The shahzadeh is quite well.”
Javed smiled at the onlookers. “We are all pleased to hear that. After the embarrassment of losing his bride, we were worried about the prince’s pride.”
Lapi swung, and Javed ducked under the blow. “The jadugar revealed the shahdokht’s falsehood. Bahir was spared, and the Southerner got what she deserved.”
“And what is that?”
“Shahzadeh Dayyan,” Lapi spat. “You must have heard the whispers years ago. He’s as filthy as she is.”
I shot a look at Zeki, and he stepped forward.
“What whispers?” Javed leaned in.
“About Malikeh Madar Morvarid and Shahzadeh Vorkosh. They—”
“Attention!” Zeki’s deep shout startled them all. “His Highness, Shahzadeh Dayyan.”
I swept forward as all heads turned toward us. Mouths dropped open, eyes flitted wide, and fear painted each face as chins lowered to chests. The circle parted, granting me entrance. Javed and Lapi swallowed, unable to meet my gaze.
“Training means increasing the skill of a warrior’s body, honing techniques. Moving the muscles of your arms and legs, not your mouth.”
I could smell the shame from some and sense the dislike spewing from others.
“Javed and Lapi have both volunteered to give us a show. Let us proceed with it.”
I unsheathed my shamshir, waving at the men to lift their weapons. They glanced at each other, uncertainty in their postures, before they shared a nod. If there was one thing they could relate on, it was their mutual dislike for the shah’s executioner.
Lapi attacked first, swinging to my side.
I parried the move, shoving him off my blade.
He stumbled back, and Javed took his place, stabbing at my ribs.
I slammed my blade over his and sent the tip of his weapon screeching against the floor.
Our audience looked on with rapt fascination, a hush gripping them as both men circled me.
I turned with them. I could practically hear the strategies rushing through their minds.
Lapi finally flew forward, lifting his shamshir into the air for an overhead strike.
His shifting eyes gave him away. I lifted my arm, blocking his blade as it swung at my neck instead.
Our weapons clanged together, metal grinding against metal.
I sensed Javed sneaking around me. Lapi gritted his teeth.
His muscles strained as he pushed against me until I relinquished my position, sliding out of the way.
Lapi’s momentum carried him forward just as Javed moved to attack.
They crashed into each other but managed to pull their blades back in time. They sprawled to the ground in a heap.
Laughter erupted around us as onlookers pointed at the defeated duo. Lapi and Javed sat up. Embarrassment colored their faces. What had once been two warriors worthy of listening to were now a pair of bumbling defeated fools. The match was over.
I turned away, heard footsteps rush toward me, and spun back in time.
Steel flashed, catching Lapi’s blade between my shamshir and knife.
Laughter froze over as all watched with a muffled sort of horror.
Lapi’s fury dissolved into fear, his attention transfixed on his blade trapped between both of mine.
It was a dangerous move, one I had never seen anyone attempt other than my trainer.
If you failed to catch the weapon with just enough force and at the exact right angle, the opponent’s blade would skewer your throat.
My blades moved in a blink, sending Lapi’s shamshir clattering.
I pointed my knife at his throat. He gulped before lowering himself to his knees.
I slid my knife into its sheath, glancing around the chamber.
Everyone looked on with that fear I had grown so accustomed to.
None could meet my gaze. I was the executioner, the heartless murderer, the merciless.
The villain in the South and North. Then my gaze caught on Omid, who had come near to watch the confrontation.
My brother stared at me with adoration, and his small fists pumped against Zeki’s as they celebrated my victory.
Even if I was the monster in everyone else’s eyes, being the hero in my brother’s gave my miserable life meaning.