A Fate of Wrath & Flame (Fate & Flame 1)

With a weapon for safekeeping, I collect the paper and graphite from the table and busy myself with a sketch of the king’s handsome face until Zander announces it’s time for them to leave.

I frown at my personal bodyguard, who has strapped a small arsenal to himself. “Elisaf’s going with you?”

“Yes, Elisaf has been pacing outside bedroom chambers and minding a princess around the clock for weeks. He needs a break and is going to join the fight,” he mocks with a grin, answering for himself in third person.

“Fair enough.” I raise my hands in surrender. “But what about me?” I look meaningfully at Zander.

“Do I still need a guard to keep you in line?”

“Well, no, but …” What about Saoirse and the others? I want to say. Surely, she’s just waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

He leans in, slips a finger beneath my chin, and tips my head to lay a languid kiss against my lips. “Don’t worry. None of them will come anywhere near this tent with Abarrane here.”

“Abarrane!” I hiss. “Why her?”

“Because she must be receiving punishment for something, though she does not yet know what.” The Legion captain materializes out of nowhere and steps from behind a room-divider screen to my left. How long has she been here?

“We will see you in a few hours. Play nice.” Zander disappears into the drizzle, along with the rest of them.

“Be careful,” I murmur as an afterthought. My dread swirls at the thought of an afternoon with a woman whose résumé boasts torture techniques. At least I won’t have to deal with any ambushes, though. I eye her warily. “I’m sure you could still catch up with them if you leave now.”

“Why, when I could spend the afternoon here with the Ybarisan princess who aims to be our queen?” Her braids tumble off her shoulder as she stoops to collect the hidden blade from beneath the rug.

The blood drains from my face.

“This is quite the choice to pilfer from the weapons table. You’ll stab yourself within minutes.” Her lips pull back with a wicked smile. “Shall I show you how it works?”

“What are you, a newborn foal? Fix your stance.” She swats my calf with the flat edge of her sword, making me jump. “Shift your left foot back to strengthen your balance and bend your knees.”

I follow her instructions, ignoring the fact that I’m in a gown.

“Now, jab.”

With my fingers curved around the blade’s handle in my palm, I make a sweeping motion with my arm.

“Not bad. Back to position. And again.”

We’ve been practicing this one move since the hunting party left, interrupted briefly by Annika who, upon seeing my company, quickly fled. That earned my babysitter’s grin of satisfaction. I think she prefers to be feared.

Despite my tutor’s abrasive nature, I find I don’t mind her teaching style.

“You are getting sloppy,” she mutters, nodding toward the settee. “Take a rest.”

I drop the knife onto the table with a groan—my arm aches—and flop into my seat. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I intended to do with it?”

“I know what you intended to do with it. Nothing,” she sneers as she paces. “You are surrounded by enemies who did not want you on the throne before the attack, and their hatred has only grown. You saw an opportunity, and you took it. It is what I would have done in your place, too, so perhaps you will not be entirely useless.”

I think that’s a compliment, but I don’t want to assume anything, especially coming from her. I hesitate, afraid I’m going to regret this. “Would you be willing to teach me how to fight?”

She spins on her heels to face me. “You want to be trained as a Legion soldier?”

“No. I would just like to be able to defend myself.”

“I do not train for defense. I train for war. I train Legionaries.”

“But you just trained me with that.”

“That was not training,” she scoffs, roping her braid around her fist. “That was a simple lesson because I was bored. It would be a waste of my time. I doubt you could fend off a puppy.”