The sun slowly rose in the sky, and soon sweat dropped down every inch of Felix’s body. Yet he went on. Aethelbald took the offensive and lunged, and Felix attempted to put into play what he’d been taught. Time and again he failed and found himself disarmed and sputtering. But at last his motions were right, his timing correct, and he watched in triumph as Aethelbald’s sword flew through the air. He whooped and raised his sword above his head, twirling it to the sky. The next moment he was flat on his back, the Prince of Farthestshore kneeling on his chest and the wind completely knocked out of him.
“Even disarmed, your enemy is dangerous,” Aethelbald said. “Remember, Felix.” He stood and helped the boy up. “You have earned a rest, my friend. Come.”
Felix was flushed and exhausted as he followed Prince Aethelbald to the barracks. He realized suddenly that they had an audience. A lineup of guards stood along the fringes, whispering among themselves and pointing like so many gossiping ladies. Felix blushed, thinking what a fool he must have looked, but Aethelbald slapped him on the shoulder. “They’re impressed,” he said.
“With you, perhaps,” the boy replied.
“With you, Prince Felix. They’ve not seen such a soldierly performance from you before, I would wager.”
Aethelbald led him to a bench against the outside wall of the barracks, and the two of them sat and stretched their feet out before them. Every muscle in Felix’s back and shoulders throbbed, but it felt good – in a painful sort of way. He closed his eyes and let his breath out in a puff. “Is that how they teach swordplay in Farthestshore?”
Aethelbald chuckled quietly beside him. “You could say that.”
Felix opened one eye and squinted up at the other prince. “Do your knights all fight like that?”
Aethelbald leaned his head back against the wall. “My knights bring individual skills and fighting styles from their own countries.”
“Your knights aren’t from Farthestshore?”
“They are the Knights of Farthestshore. But their homelands are many and varied.”
Felix pondered this a moment, thinking of the three strange men who had accompanied this unprepossessing prince into the palace dining hall the night before. “Where is Sir Oeric from?” he asked, remembering the enormous knight with the saucer eyes and rocklike hide who had greeted his father at the market.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Yes, I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Try me!”
Aethelbald smiled sideways at the young prince. “Sir Oeric hails from the realm of King Vahe of the Veiled People, the far land of Arpiar.”
Felix frowned. “You’re teasing me,” he growled. “Arpiar isn’t a real place. It’s a story. Arpiar is where goblins are . . .” He paused as his brain caught up with his words. “Is Sir Oeric a goblin?”
“No.”
“But stories say Arpiar is the realm of goblins. If anyone ever looked like a goblin – ”
“And yet, Oeric is no goblin.”
Felix sank into silence, pondering several thoughts as they spun through his head. A minute or two passed, and he became aware suddenly of voices just around the corner of the building against which he and Aethelbald leaned.
“Stranger than I like,” the first voice said. “I’m not in favor of mysteries; I won’t deny it.”
“Who are these people?” another voice asked. “They come from the Wood without a by-your-leave and take up residence in our king’s home. . . . How are we to know they’re trustworthy?”
“They’re not our kind,” the first said.
“That they aren’t.”
“My grandmother told me,” the first voice went on. “She said, ‘Nothing good comes from the Wood.’ ”
“And we all know the fount of wisdom your grandmother was.”
“Well, I trust the old biddy!”
The next moment two guards came around the corner. They stopped when they saw Felix and Aethelbald. Aethelbald remained where he sat with his eyes closed and his head back, looking soundly asleep. But Felix saw the guards exchange worried glances, then scurry past without even a bow for their prince.
Felix nudged Aethelbald with his elbow. “They don’t like you.”
Aethelbald grunted.
“Where are you from, Prince Aethelbald?”
“From the Wood, they’re saying,” Aethelbald replied.
“But where are you really from? You say you’re the Prince of Farthestshore, but is Farthestshore a real place?”
“Just as real as Arpiar.”
“That helps a lot!”
Aethelbald yawned suddenly and stretched his arms over his head. “People fear the unknown, Prince Felix. They fear what they cannot understand.”
“They fear you,” Felix said. “You and your knights.”
“Just so.”
Felix crossed his arms. “I’m not afraid of you.”
Aethelbald raised an eyebrow, looking down at him again. “Perhaps you should be.” He got to his feet. “Come. Let’s see if your muscles remember what you’ve been trying to teach them this morning.”
Felix groaned but got up and followed the Prince of Farthestshore into the middle of the yard. He drew his sword and swung his arms to loosen up his shoulders. But before he took position, he said, “You really intend to marry my sister, Prince Aethelbald?”
Aethelbald swung his sword arm in an arc, then did the same with the other. “I hope to.”
“She won’t have you,” Felix said.
“Perhaps not.”
“She doesn’t like you.”
Aethelbald smiled wryly and took up his wooden sword. “I’d gathered as much last night.”
“She won’t change her mind.”