At this, there were more gasps.
My jaw clenched tight, fingers curling into my palm. How dare Amias use me as an excuse for his outrage, when it was clearly petty jealousy. This was not the first time Amias had tried to interfere with my partnerships. He’d gone to his uncle, King Krowe, and told an elaborate story about how Kellian had consumed too much dwarven liquor, when Kellian had food poisoning instead—the reason behind his poor stomach a “mystery.”
It was why the Legion taught that logic and reason, not emotions, should govern our actions. We should lead by example. Always.
And yet, I couldn’t help being curious to see how this played out. What would Zach do when his bloodline was attacked? Was he ashamed to be born of a heretic? I wondered if that was why he was so skilled—that he trained so hard to overcome his parentage and the prejudice that came with it.
Zach took a sip from his goblet, then looked up and smiled at Amias. “I don’t mean to offend, but is there something you need from me? You’re ruining my meal.”
Amias leaned forward. “Why? Don’t want everyone to know about your heretic mother?”
“Ah, no, it’s not that.” Zach reached for a piece of bread. “It’s just your foul breath. It’s making it hard to hold down the delicious food.”
Silence.
Then Amias roared, grabbing the table and upending it.
Zach was fast. He lifted his plate and his goblet and slid back as the table and all the other dishes crashed to the ground.
I covered my mouth. This was beyond jealousy. I’d never seen Amias act like this.
He turned on Zach. “Romantica scum! You don’t deserve her!”
Zach tilted his head. “Don’t deserve who?”
Irritation, and maybe a little disappointment, prickled under my skin. Did he not remember meeting me at all?
Then Zach’s face lit up. “Oh! The princess with the freckles who likes strawberries! You mean her, right?”
My cheeks warmed. That’s what he remembered? Seas of Glyll, did he have to remember my freckles?
Amias let loose another roar, but this time I rushed to stop him. “Back away, Amias!” I commanded, planting myself between them. Zach was going to keep on baiting him until one of them put a table through a window. I could almost hear the glass shattering and the wood crashing to the ground below.
“He insulted you, Ivy!” Amias reached for his sword.
“I didn’t hear any insult. And you insult us all if you draw your blade in front of our guests. Now back down.”
Amias did not advance, but neither did he step back.
“So the problem is…” Behind me, Zach placed his dishes on the table closest to him and stood. “I’m not worthy of her. Is that correct?” he said, jabbing his thumb at me.
Amias narrowed his gray eyes.
Zach looked me up and down, and I felt myself blush again. “That could very well be true.”
Amias’s hand on his sword slackened, just slightly.
“But,” the Swordsman Prince went on with a smirk, “I think the important thing here is I’m more worthy than you.”
Not even my words could stop Amias now. He lunged for Zach, forgetting about the sword—forgetting about everything, apparently.
“Amias!” A voice boomed throughout the dining hall, echoing off the walls. It was a voice that made Amias stop, and very few could. Amias whirled to face King Krowe, who now stood on the steps of the hall, looking grand with his gold crown and sapphire cloak.
“Calm yourself, nephew,” he commanded.
Amias straightened, his fists curled at his sides. “Uncle, this heretic can’t be Princess Ivy’s partner. He shouldn’t even be eating at our tables.”
“That is not for you to decide,” King Krowe said. “It is the Council’s decision. As it is for all partnerships, we must take everything into consideration.” Krowe glared at his nephew in a way that made me conclude Amias must have gone to the Council to ask for my partnership again. Despite him already having Matilda, a half princess, for a partner, and that the Council had already refused to bind us twice before.
“For the good of the kingdom,” Krowe continued, “the prince with the most skill should be paired with Queen Myriana’s direct descendant. And seeing as he’s the best swordsman here—”
“I am the best swordsman here!” Amias yelled.
“Perhaps you were,” Zach said calmly.
Rage built in Amias’s face like never before. I thought he might actually explode. He unsheathed his sword and pointed it straight at Zach’s chest. “I could kill you.”
“You could try.” Zach’s eyes narrowed, turning cold and sharp, at last looking like the cutthroat warrior he was rumored to be.
This new persona gave me chills—of either fear or excitement. It was impossible to tell which.
“Let me try, then.” Amias pressed the tip of his blade to Zach’s chest. “Let us see who’s better. Who the worthy one really is.”
Zach stared at the blade’s point for a moment before he brought two fingers to the side of the sword and moved it away from his chest, as if it were no more lethal than a blade of grass. “Fine, I accept your challenge.”
King Krowe clapped. “Grand! A duel, then. Tomorrow at dawn!”
At that moment it was obvious he had been the puppet master pulling Amias’s strings. He was the one who let Zach’s parentage slip out. So this had been his brilliant idea.
Amias slowly lowered his sword, still fuming, and Zach merely turned around, sat at the table where his food was, and continued eating.
I stood there, wringing my napkin in my hands, annoyed but not surprised. A duel was the perfect way to test Zach’s strength without offending the Saevallans as our guests. Logically, I knew it was a good plan, but it didn’t feel like an evaluation or a test. It felt like a competition for me. And I didn’t like being viewed as a prize to be won.
But if this was what I had to endure to get the legendary swordsman as a partner, to go after the Sable Dragon egg, and to one day find and defeat the Evil Queen, then I would sit and be considered a prize. And as for the victor, I would reward him with my Kiss.
Chapter
Seven
A Fiery Duel
Everyone greeted dawn in the arena of the training grounds the next day. I doubted a single person within the castle was not either sitting on the slopes of the hill up to the castle or under the red leaves of the jerr trees.
The murmur of the crowd was low, as if they were speaking in hushed voices for fear of waking the still-sleeping sun, their tongues placing bets. Who would win? A proper prince who was big and strong and naturally good with a blade? Or the legendary swordsman with a heretic’s blood? Fires glowed around the edges to light the grounds. It was so early that even the Myrial bells had not yet chimed.
The Council and the Mages sat on chairs within the carved-out indention of the hill. As I passed them to stand next to Tulia and Minnow, I heard a few of them quietly congratulating King Krowe on his brilliant manipulation of his nephew.
“Best use my nephew’s outrage to our advantage,” he muttered to Queen Jocelyn.
Despite my aggravation at being a prize, I couldn’t have agreed more. I was eager to see Zach’s skills in action. To see for myself if he was worthy of Myriana’s Mark.
With the morning air so chilly, I was wrapped in my gray cloak, wearing a handsome navy blue dress underneath. My hair was done in a bun, as usual, except for a few wisps of curl that always escaped if there was a breeze.
“I see Amias is as ready as ever,” whispered Minnow, leaning closer to me. She also wore her gray cloak, and her blond hair was fastened in braids.
Amias stood at the base of the hill, strapping on his armor and testing out his sword arm.
“Question is,” Tulia said on Minnow’s other side, “where is his opponent?”
It was nearly dawn, and Zach was nowhere to be seen. A few minutes ago, Master Gelloren had sent a page to fetch him from his room.