A week later, Darren was on his way back from training when he noticed a figure duck behind the stables. Naturally suspicious, he’d waited for it to emerge. He knew some of the servants’ children were still waiting to avenge his bullying from the past. It was only a matter of time before they made their assault.
Let them try. He had his sword, and Sir Audric couldn’t very well blame him for defending himself.
A minute later, it reemerged.
When it did, he was surprised to find his brother.
“What were you doing back there?”
The heir smiled without blinking an eye. “Thought I saw something, but it must have been a bird.”
“A bird?”
Blayne gave an irritated sigh. “Yes, little brother, a bird. A thing that pecks and preens and flies around in the sky.” He scowled in irritation. “And what were you doing following me?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Well, you might as well now. Father will be expecting us at dinner in an hour.”
Darren shook his head. “Sir Audric wants me to practice a bit more in the evenings, says it’ll improve my aim.”
“Sir Audric sure asks a lot of you.” The prince’s mood swung dark. “You chose to obey a doddering old fool over your own brother?”
“He wants me to be the best.” The boy bristled. He liked the man, and the knight was far too young to be the cripple his brother claimed. “Don’t you?”
Blayne looked at his hands, picking out little flecks of dirt that had gotten caught underneath his fingernails. “I suppose.” He sighed rather loudly. “Just don’t stay out too late, little brother.”
“I won’t.”
Darren waited until Blayne had vanished and then sprinted over to the stables. The thick scent of horse dung and straw assaulted his nostrils as he crept around the back of the building. He wasn’t sure whether his brother had been lying or not.
It had been hard to read Blayne’s eyes in the dark.
But he was hiding something, and Darren wanted to know what.
After a couple of minutes, Darren frowned. Everything looked the same. Heavy pine, a light sprinkling of grass, nothing out of the ordinary. Perhaps his brother had been telling the truth after all.
Still, his mood had been so abrupt…
Darren turned back around, and as he did, his boot brushed a mound of dirt a bit higher than the rest. He paused. The soil was looser here.
Now that he was bending down, the boy could see a small patch of black peeking out beneath the pile.
Is this what Blayne was hiding? Darren fell to his knees and began to dig.
When he touched something soft, he pulled away and peered down the hole. What he saw had him stumbling back on his hands, a horrified sound falling from his mouth as he recognized the creature inside.
A small kitten, barely four weeks old.
Darren had broken enough of his own bones to recognize the odd way the head hung off its tiny frame.
Maybe it was dead when he buried it. Maybe it broke then.
Or maybe a pair of twelve-year-old hands had snapped it in half.
Darren fought against the latter thought. Blayne never hurt anyone. If there had ever been a question of which boy would commit such a violent act, the resounding answer would have been Darren. Never Blayne.
Darren pushed himself up off the ground. His brother might have been capable of lying, and perhaps he’d grown a bit colder than years before, but he wasn’t capable of this.
The kitten must have been dead before he buried it.
It was the only explanation that made sense.
3
Another year passed with the sword, and Sir Audric decided both Eve and Darren were ready for their next weapon. The two would continue with the former, of course, but they would now also be taking up archery, which was something the boy had been looking forward to for weeks.
When the knight master pulled out three painted targets, Darren wondered who would be joining them.
“Ah, your highness, so nice of you to join us.”
Darren spun on his heel to find his brother trotting down the field. Blayne was wearing a pair of training breeches like his own, and the same shirt and wrist-guards.
Blayne smirked. “Don’t look so surprised, brother. Every king knows how to shoot.”
Sir Audric didn’t seem surprised. “I trust Commander Salvador has taught you well?”
The crown prince nodded as Darren gaped at his brother. The head of the King’s Regiment had been giving Blayne private lessons?
“For how long?” Eve’s voice rang out.
“Two years. One hour most days.” Darren was sure he detected a note of pride in Blayne’s response.
Still, the boy couldn’t help himself. “Two years?”
“So I could participate in this year’s hunt. Father wants me at the head with Salvador’s best men.” The thirteen-year-old laughed. “It’s all for show, of course, but the hunt is, after all, the Crown’s favorite sport.”
That it was. And Darren had been looking forward to impressing the others with his skills. He didn’t have any yet, but he had hoped six months would give him enough time to learn before the event was held. He was ahead of the boys his age with the sword and the staff, why not the bow too?
It irked him that his brother was already better. Darren was supposed to be the best, and yet Blayne had been receiving lessons with a better knight than him. He liked Sir Audric, but four years of playing “who is the best knight-to-be” with Eve had left him more competitive than before.