The Beauty of Darkness (The Remnant Chronicles 3)

I walked over to the rack of practice swords, testing their weights. “Try this one.” It was a lighter sword that wouldn’t fatigue her arm as quickly but still had a decent reach. I selected a shield for her too.

Sven stepped forward. “Your Majesty, is this wise?”

Lia leveled a death stare at him. I knew she was already weary of every decision being deferred to me. “We’ll be fine, Colonel.”

“Astute move, Your Majesty,” Lia said under her breath. “Or I might have had to take your steward down.”

We went through a few slow thrusts and parries so she could get the feel of her weapon and then I applied more pressure.

“Don’t use your sword to block or defend unless you have to,” I said as our blows reverberated through the yard. “Advance! The sword is a killing weapon, not a defensive one. If you’re using it to defend, you’re missing a chance to kill.” I showed her how to use her shield to deflect and unbalance her opponent to her best advantage, while at the same time using her sword to thrust and cut.

“Attack!” I yelled, baiting her just as I did the other soldiers. “Attack! Don’t wait for me to wear you down! Keep me on the move! Let surprise be your ally!”

She did, in earnest. The dust kicked up around us.

The soldiers hooted. I had no doubt it was the first time they’d ever seen a woman sparring in the work yard—with their king, no less.

Her reflexes were fast and her concentration dogged—excellent qualities for a swordsman, but I had the advantage of height, weight, and strength, as most opponents she might face would.

To her advantage, she seemed to naturally understand the concept of movement and timing. Some soldiers planted their feet like trees, as if their sheer size would keep them upright. I had seen many of them felled by soldiers not much bigger than Lia. Her face glistened with sweat, and I was caught by a surge of pride.

“Watch your shins,” someone called out. I glanced toward the crowd. Kaden. Our audience had grown.

Her sword skimmed my ribs, and cheers erupted. Like a wolf tasting blood, her thrusts became ravenous, her movement a graceful chaos that kept me increasingly alert. I advanced, pressing harder, and her strikes slowed against the pressure. I knew every sinew in her shoulder had to be burning with fire.

“Go for the kill,” I yelled, “before the choice is taken from you.”

She was a fast learner, using her shield well, deflecting my blows expertly, but then a piercing horn sounded, dividing her attention. I pulled back on my swing, but not before the flat of the sword caught her in the jaw and she went flying backward to the ground. The shocked groan of the crowd ricocheted through the yard, and I r

ushed to her side, falling to the ground.

I gathered her into my arms. “Lia! My gods. Are you all right?” Soldiers closed in around us and I yelled for someone to get the physician.

She grimaced, reaching up to hold her jaw where the redness was already turning blue. “Stupid,” she hissed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Not you. Me. Walther told me a hundred times I couldn’t let in distractions.” She pushed my hand away and opened her mouth, testing to see that her jaw was in working order. “I still have all my teeth. Stop fussing.”

The horn sounded again. “What is it?” she asked.

I wasn’t sure. “A warning or a welcome.” I looked up at the watchtower, and a soldier waved the Dalbreck banner. “Our soldiers!” he yelled.

The rotation of troops had arrived.

I’d be able to leave for Dalbreck with Lia at last.

CHAPTER THIRTY

That evening, no one mentioned my tumble, whether to spare me or their king I wasn’t sure. But if Sven said anything, I was prepared to point out that two of Rafe’s sparring partners had fared worse—one a knot on the head, and the other a cracked knuckle. I hadn’t sparred with Rafe to prove a point the way I had with Kaden. I knew a time might come when I would need greater sword skills, and I wanted to learn from the best.

With the arrival of the troops, everyone lingered over dinner, then dessert, eagerly eating up news of home from the newly arrived Officers Taggart and Durante.

While both officers were relieved to learn that Prince Jaxon had been found alive, I noticed Rafe grew quieter as the evening progressed and news was shared. Some of the reports were lackluster—betrothals, harvests, promotions in the ranks—but when it turned to the squabbles among the assembly and cabinet, and the rumblings of generals, Rafe’s eyes narrowed and his fingers curled around the arm of his chair.

“We leave in two days. It will all be addressed soon enough,” he said. His tense composure didn’t escape the officers and further news of grumbling generals stalled on their lips.

Colonel Bodeen turned the conversation back to a lighter topic—the party that was planned for the next evening—and he noted the good timing of the troops’ arrival. Apparently Officers Taggart and Durante were well-versed in Bodeen’s celebrations.