“And you still can. You would just be an apprentice instead of a squire. You could still serve in the Crown’s Army among your friends when you ascend.” The man’s voice was a bit gruff. “Now, go on, child. Marius is a busy man.”
The girl shot one final look at Darren, a hesitant glance that bespoke her guilt, and then she was gone.
The prince scowled. The one friend, the only person he actually trusted in this place, let alone could bear the company of, was never coming back. Darren had always held onto the belief that they would be leaving the palace for the School together.
That dream was gone.
Later that evening, Darren begged his father to admit him to the School early. There was no point in remaining behind at court. But Lucius refused to grant his request.
“You need to be the best,” the king snarled. “You will apply at sixteen when you are sure to stand out. I won’t have you dishonor the Crown by letting another perform better, and Sir Audric reports you still have much to learn.”
Darren had a few choice words for what he thought of the knight master now that he had stolen his one friend away from his training. He had even more when he arrived at the training field the next morning and found someone else who was not Eve waiting in his old friend’s place.
He would recognize those sharp violet eyes anywhere. He was familiar with the way her body curved and how those long beautiful tendrils of dark auburn hair curved along her face. He’d become aware of that two years before.
Priscilla was beautiful, and she knew it. That was never the problem. Darren admired confidence. His issue was with the implication of her presence.
Priscilla was Baron Langli’s daughter, a man well-known for his temper and braggart nature in court. The king put up with the baron because the Langlis had more wealth than most of Jerar’s noble families combined.
If Priscilla was here now, it could mean only one thing, and it was the same reason Darren had avoided the girl’s presence for so long.
A forced friendship and, if the baron had his way, betrothal. That was something the prince wanted to avoid at all costs.
Blayne was free of the intrigues of court. Lucius was already working on an alliance between heirs with the Borean emperor. The crown prince didn’t have to deal with plotting courtiers and the countless daughters that followed—all of which would lie through their teeth, save Eve.
“Priscilla is to be your new sparring partner. The two of you will train together from here on out. She also plans to enter the School.”
“Does she?” Darren’s smirk was cruel. He looked the girl up and down. She was just like the others who pretended to share his same interests in hopes of ensnaring a prince. She might have been beautiful, but she was a flower. And a flower belonged in a glass, not in his training court.
The prince wondered if his father had sold the role of his new training partner to the highest bidder. Baron Langli certainly had the most coin, and the court liked games.
The girl gave him a demure smile, blatantly ignoring his tone. “How nice that we share the same interests.”
He would see about that when their practice began.
Darren looked to the knight master. Priscilla was already outfitted for sparring, so he would prefer to end this charade before it began. Once Sir Audric saw how ill-equipped his partner was, surely he would petition the king to allow one of the others to take her place—someone who knew how to wield a sword instead of counting jewels. King Lucius would not want his son’s education to suffer, no matter how pretty the price might have been.
The knight motioned for the two to grab a scabbard and take their starting positions across the way.
For a moment, Darren was surprised to find Priscilla’s posture mirrored his own, not a muscle out of place.
And then the drill began.
“Block left, half-crest right. Reverse…” The knight trailed off, clearing his throat. They were only two minutes into the drill. “Very good, Priscilla.” The shock in his voice was unmistakable.
The girl hadn’t just performed the moves, she had done so with the same vigor as Darren. There were no flaws to her stance. The strength she projected, the way she adjusted her sword for each cut… it was perfect.
She knew what she was doing, and she was doing it well.
The girl batted her eyes at the prince, having noticed his open-mouthed stare. “I’ve been training as long as you.”
So she didn’t lie about everything.
The rest of the practice followed the same turn as their initial drill. It was pleasant, even.
But that only made it worse. Darren wanted his friend back. He didn’t want this… imposter, even if she really was as good as she claimed. And she was good, but every moment they had a bit of respite, she was sidling up next to him, trying to win him over with compliments. When that didn’t work, she used blatant flirtation.
She might fight like Eve, but she wasn’t his friend. She was just like the others, a part of the endless circle of courtiers masquerading as gentry, and Darren wanted something else. There were enough wolves roaming the halls as it was.
“I don’t know why you are complaining.” Blayne gave Darren a raised brow. Months had passed since his new sparring partner had been announced. “Priscilla all but throws herself at you. She’s miles above that knight’s daughter you were always practicing with. If Father wasn’t so set on the Langli girl for you, I’d bed her myself.”