AYLETH

There was a moment of silence in which Ayleth would have sworn she could have heard a leaf flutter to the ground. Then a booming roar that vibrated in her bones shook the entire arena, as the crowd realized who they’d witnessed win the fight.

Ayleth blushed and bowed and the applause climbed higher. It wasn’t a real win, she reminded herself. Etan had been distracted by learning it was her. He was a man of honor who would not raise a hand to a woman. He’d been unwilling to hurt her once he’d known. But she comforted herself that he hadn’t beaten her outright.

Falek was smiling and clapping with the crowd, but he kept shooting glances at her father who still stood in silence, his expression wide with shock as he tried to process what he’d just seen. What he was still seeing: His daughter in trousers, sweating and dirtied from hand-to-hand combat.

Then there was a flash of blue at his side, and Ayleth’s breath caught as her mother joined him at the railing, her eyes wide too. But… her smile grew and grew and when Ayleth caught her eye, she nodded and raised her hands in applause. The people cheered and leaped up and down, even her ladies were clapping and hopping at the rails.

Ayleth’s cheeks went hot, but she bowed again and nodded.

The Master of Ceremonies spoke to her father, who seemed to shake himself, then speak, and then he turned back to the podium.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Zenithra, and the Continent, I present to you, the Princess Ayleth, Heir to the Zenithran throne, and our future Queen!”

Ayleth winced as the roar that rose in response thundered in her ears. But she smiled, her heart light and thrilled with the response of her people.

But when she turned to Etan to share this moment with him, he only stared at her, wide-eyed, and her smile faded. She pleaded with him silently to understand—that she only wanted to keep him safe. But—

“The King would honor his daughter at a feast tomorrow with the nobles of the Continent and their heirs!” The Master called, and the people cheered again.

Ayleth snapped her head back around to the front, gaping at the Master, then her father—whose eyes burned, despite his smile.

He was not impressed to be taken by surprise, she knew. But he would play it well—and leverage her power and courage. This feast… he would use it. To promote her strength and courage. To paint her as the perfect queen-to-be. To force other Kingdoms to realize her value even outside her position as Heir.

He was going to sell her to the highest bidder.

“Shitting hell,” she muttered, grateful that no one could hear her, though her Knight must have read her lips, because he gave her a dark glare.

The cheering continued as Ayleth and Etan were excused from the audience and urged to return to the barracks. With twenty feet between them, and Etan walking ahead, Ayleth yearned to rush after him, to touch him, to ask if he was angry, but as soon as she and her Knight Defender stepped outside the arena they were rushed by her Court, and many of the visiting Heirs as well. She did not miss the bright gazes of many of the men, or the seething jealousy of the women, though most made their curtseys and applauded her, wishing to gain her approval.

It took several minutes for her to make her way through the crowd, and in the end, her Knight Defender had to call in his men to circle her and bring her out of the people before things got out of hand.

They ushered her to the barracks and closed and barred the door behind her, the men spreading out to check throughout the building for intruders or attackers, so she was left with Falek at the entrance. He watched the men disperse, then turned to her, his eyes bright.

“That was the greatest show of courage I have been privy to witness,” he said gruffly. Ayleth’s mouth dropped open. “Well done, Princess,” he said quietly and, drawing his sword, took a knee before her, holding his sword toward her, hilt-first. “You have the heart of a lion, and a goddess. I am honored to serve you. I pledge you my vow of loyalty.”

Clutching a hand to her chest, Ayleth wanted to protest. But the vow was not one of servant to ruler, but one of soldier to General. He honored her as a fighter, not a queen, and she was touched to her bones.

“Stand, sir,” she rasped. “You have no need to kneel before me.” It was the traditional response of brother-to-brother and she prayed she didn’t somehow dishonor him by using it as a female. When he got to his feet and re-sheathed his sword, they stared at each other for a moment.

“I wouldn’t be strong without you, Falek,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “The next time we train we’re working on your willingness to strike. You could have ended that in the first minute if you hadn’t hesitated.”

She opened her mouth to tell him it was only because she hadn’t wanted to strike her husband-to-be, hadn’t wanted to humiliate him, but realized she couldn’t. And shouldn’t, anyway. The code of the Warrior was not to defend one’s mistakes, but to own them, and work on improving.

“Yes, of course,” she said, and smiled. Falek smiled back.

Ayleth’s eyes pricked. She could count Falek’s true smiles on one hand.

Desperate to break the tension, she put a hand to his arm, this man who felt like family, and whispered, “Did you see their faces, though?”

He threw back his head and laughed. “You will be a legend, Ayleth. This story will be told for generations—and grow in the telling. My grandchildren will tell yours that you grew wings and tail and swallowed him whole.”

Ayleth snorted. “I hope not. Very unflattering for the hips.”

Falek laughed again, then, as one by one, the soldiers stepped out of the doors of the rooms and declared them clear, he gestured for her to walk first, through the ranks.

Tears made her vision blur as the soldiers saluted her when she passed. Not the salute of citizen to ruler, but clasping fists to their chests, as if she were one of their equals.

“Thank you,” she murmured, hurrying her steps before they saw her cry and she ruined the entire episode. “Thank you.”

When she’d passed through the barracks and out the back, with Falek still at her heels, and the men surrounding them, to take her back to the castle, she prayed the servants would be prepared to help her bathe and ready.

She had another feast to attend. And she needed to find her betrothed and find out if he’d forgiven her.