“I’m sorry!”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he growled but said little else as he all but dragged me to the practice field. Normally, he would have blistered the air around him with remonstrations, so my apology must have startled him, my character typically being one that has few reasons to give him apologies.
The fields were empty. A quick poke at my bond told me Fox and the other soldiers had moved to the archery grounds, and Kalen wasted no time beginning. Despite his earlier threats, he assumed the defensive, giving me the first chance to strike.
My reflexes were slower, clumsier than usual. I was no master at swordsmanship, though Kalen had been training me for many long months. Regardless, the Deathseeker had never been one to give up on lost causes, even if that lost cause was me.
Kalen’s blade blocked my first blow. I could hear his orders—“Bring your arm up! Keep your feet moving!”—but my body refused to comply.
The Scrying spell, I realized. I’d used it before Kalen had come stomping in, and now that my initial burst of adrenaline was gone, I had no second wind to fall back on.
I ducked low, using my smaller height to my advantage, and swung my sword up. He sidestepped the move, and I managed to parry his next attack. He backed away and waited again, but I never knew if I could have followed through with another blow.
My knees buckled, and I must have blacked out, though I had no memory of hitting the ground.
When I came to, I was sitting propped against a tree, a cloak bunched behind my head. Kalen was beside me, a combination of annoyance and concern.
“You OK, Lady Tea?”
Kalen never called me that before. “Didn’t you tell me that honorifics had no place in battle?” I croaked, strangely light-headed. I felt something cold and soothing pressing against my forehead.
“The battle was over as soon as you passed out. Why didn’t you tell me you were exhausted?”
“There wasn’t time,” I mumbled, though that was only partly true. “You dragged me out of my room like the palace was on fire. But I’m better now.”
“Don’t lie.” The Deathseeker gave the green flickers in my heartsglass a pointed glance. Sometimes I forgot that Kalen could read them as well as I could. “I should have known something was wrong. Your sword techniques are terrible, you leave your defenses so open that any expert swordsman could stab you through several times and run before you recovered, and you always try to overextend your reach—but tardiness has never been one of your bad habits.”
Only Kalen could insult and praise me all in the same breath. “I’m glad you think so highly of me,” I said, but my sarcasm missed him by miles.
“I know I’m not the first person you’d choose to divulge your secrets to, and I’m sure you have other friends in the asha-ka you can confide in. Share your worries with your brother. It isn’t good to keep them bottled up inside so you start losing sleep over them.”
Was he trying to be nice? I was accustomed to a contrary, belligerent Kalen. A kind Kalen was a strange animal I had little experience with. “What are you going on about?”
Was I imagining it or did pink touch his cheeks? Kalen was a master at concealing his emotions, so his heartsglass only showed obvious irritation. “Prince Kance, of course!” he shot back testily. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”
I gaped at him. It had not occurred to me that Kalen was trying to cheer me up.
His tone softened. “His impending marriage isn’t something he has control over. Neither of them do. This was an arrangement between Empress Alyx and King Telemaine, an alliance between Kion and Odalia. Prince Kance has nothing but the highest esteem for Princess Inessa, but he isn’t happy. Polaire and Mykaela were aware of the engagement, but I didn’t know they hadn’t told you.”
I was sure my face burned, and my embarrassment made Kalen even more formal, more awkward in his attempts to soothe me. “It came as a surprise to all of us. Princess Inessa is furious at both Kance and King Telemaine, though she can’t appear so in public.”
“She has no reason to be!” I exclaimed despite myself. “It isn’t fair that Prince Kance should have to shoulder her anger for his father’s…”
I trailed off. Kalen was smiling, a rarity. “Kance could declare war on an innocent village and you’d find a way to defend him still, wouldn’t you?”
“Their engagement shouldn’t begin with a misunderstanding,” I mumbled. I tried to stand, but Kalen placed both his hands on my shoulders—gently but with enough pressure to keep me where I was. “I said I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He sounded annoyed again, more like the Kalen I knew. “Stop being so stubborn. Rely on others more often.”
Anger burst from my lips. “But I can’t! Do you know what it’s like to have no control over who people think you are? To be feared and hated, even when you protect them, help them? To be deemed unimportant by your friends, the very people you look up to? It isn’t fair!”
There was a pause before the Deathseeker responded. “You’re right,” he said, and his voice made me look at him more closely. “It isn’t fair at all. But you live with it and accept it. There isn’t much use to complain when there is little you can do.” Kalen set his jaw.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
“A few seconds ago, you told me to rely on other people, to not be so stubborn.”
He sighed. “The official engagement ceremony will take place in a week. King Telemaine has temporarily released the Duke of Holsrath so he can attend both the official betrothal and the wedding.”
“The Duke of Holsrath? But…” The king’s brother had been languishing in prison for years. Arrested after an attempted uprising against his own sibling, his noble blood had spared him from the gallows but not from life imprisonment.
And Kalen was his son.
“Blood ties are stronger than treason.” Kalen laughed bitterly. “Perhaps King Telemaine wishes to reconcile with his brother despite all he’s done. Whatever the reason, my father shall be present for the betrothal, whatever the rumors may say.”
“What rumors?”
“They’re not important.”
“Kalen!”
He glared but gave in. “People have been talking. They think the duke still plots to take the throne. That I insinuated myself with the royal family to gain the influence needed for his reprieve.”
I understood and was ashamed. Kalen had been judged far longer than I had. To be a traitor’s son was hard enough; to be believed a traitor yourself, despite dedicating your life to serving the very people who despise you, was even worse. I had been an object of derision for more than two years. Kalen had been subjected to it since childhood.
“I’m sorry.” I was horrified by my lack of empathy, at having dismissed his personal experiences for my own. “All my talk about being hated—I had no right to say that to you.”
“People need someone to hate. And it’s easier to see that in others than to find it in themselves. I should know,” Kalen added in a strangely calm voice. “I’ve hated my father nearly all my life.”
“Was he cruel?” I asked hesitantly, then cursed myself. “I apologize. You don’t need to answer that.”