Dragon's Heart (2 page)

T
he fighters maneuvered
around one another, their boots kicking up small clouds of dust that drifted through the castle grounds. They traded blows, each seeking weaknesses in their opponent’s defenses. The prince struck, landing a glancing blow on the lieutenant’s arm. She stepped back with her spare movements meant to conserve energy and lull him into a false sense of superiority. Setting an easy rhythm, she fell back inch by slow inch, pulling the prince along with her.

Good, he’s improving, making fewer mistakes, forcing me to work and draw him into the trap,
Serena thought as she studied Killian’s technique and form. When the time was right, she dropped her guard. He attacked, striking out with his practice sword. The lieutenant stepped left and blocked the blow with her right arm. Serena brought her own practice sword up and tapped Killian’s exposed chest with the tip before stepping back and offering a low bow to him.

The prince stared at the place where her blade had touched, appearing equally shocked and amused. He shook his head and exhaled a long, frustrated sigh. “How did you do that?” The note of incredulity in his words hinted at admiration with a dose of laughter.

Smiling, she walked over and moved his arm into the position it had been prior to her landing the
killing blow
. “Your guard was just a little low. You knew it,” Serena said, shifting his arm into the proper height, “but rather than adjusting, you tried to overcompensate when I attacked.”

“I was out of position.”

“Yes, your Highness,” she answered, being careful to use his title, as was proper.

“I know better,” Killian said with the hint of a growl coloring his words.

“You do.” She fought the smile threatening to curl her lips again.

“I feel stuck. Like I’m not making any progress,” Killian complained while they walked to the pavilion on the edge of the practice field. The building offered a shady area to rest on hot, sunny days like this one. A table with various weapons, a washbasin of water, and linen towels was provided. Serena knew the queen had insisted on the pavilion, over the vehement objections of not only the Arms Master but also several of the generals whose men made regular use of the field.

She considered her answer, given the progress he was making. The improvement was subtle, something that required an experienced eye to see.
Encouragement hasn’t borne the results I was hoping for. Perhaps it is time to try a different approach.
“You are.” She paused and waited for a couple of seconds. “Every student reaches plateaus they must overcome. I believe you have come upon one such level. It is just a matter of time, your Highness.”

“Why can’t we work with edged weapons? I can’t see how these,” he held up his wooden practice sword, sparing a disgusted glance at it when he said, “are sufficient to prepare a fighter for a true battle.”

Serena shook her head and laid her wooden sword on the table beside a goblet.
I’ve expected this for quite some time. Whenever any student feels as though they’re not improving, they blame practice swords.
She knew she had done the same not too long ago. Then, she let Killian wait, something she knew he wasn’t subjected to often. As second in line to rule Illedria, no one but his grandmother and father had the right to make him wait. Because of their long friendship, she was accorded as much latitude as he allowed. So, Serena took every opportunity to make Killian practice patience. She poured herself a goblet of wine and took a sip before turning her attention back to the young man. “These practice swords approximate the weight and balance of an actual weapon. They are meant to train fighters with less risk of lethal injury. More experienced students sometimes use blunted steel or edged weapons to add an element of realism to their bouts, but it is risky. Several students have been injured while working with edged blades,” she answered as the healing wound on her arm gave a slight twinge, reminding her that she could count herself among the mentioned wounded.

She watched Killian pace. His eyes narrowed as he chewed on his bottom lip, deep in thought. He stopped and faced her. “I am ready.”

Serena leaned against the table, crossed her arms over her torso and shook her head. “No, you are not. I’ve landed an easy kill point on you three times in the past week, your Highness.”

“I’ve been distracted.” Killian’s voice held a note of teasing, and Serena noted a familiar wicked twinkle in his eyes. His heated gaze roamed over her body, appreciating the way her bodice and breeches hugged her curves and the way the billowy sleeves framed the hourglass shape of her waist. The red-gold waves he loved to run his fingers through were pulled back in a braid, which started at her hairline and fell to just below her shoulder blades. He even liked the way her eyes narrowed and the right brow lifted as his gaze lingered.

“Then perhaps I should inquire with the other members of the guard and seek out a less… distracting, sparring partner for you, your Highness.” Her green gold-flecked eyes sparkled, teasing, even though she tried to resist his flirtation.

“I see no reason for you to do that, Lieutenant Harlowe.” Killian tossed his wooden sword on the table beside Serena’s and poured himself a goblet of wine. Servants weren’t allowed on the practice field, not even for a prince. “Even Arms Master Hayes admits that, up until recently, I have been improving under your,” he paused, a half-smile curling his lips, “expert tutelage.”

She smiled and nodded, “Then perhaps you will leave the question of your progression to me, as Arms Master Hayes has?”

Killian frowned, his blue eyes narrowing. “I thought you might be easier to convince.”

Serena nodded, and her lips quirked up in a wry half-smile. “Because I am a weak-willed woman?”

“If your will was weak, I doubt we would be having this conversation.”

She smiled. “You have a point, Highness.”

“So.” He toed the ground and ran a hand through his raven hair. “We can begin working with edged weapons?”

“Are you trying to have me executed?” A note of laughter was obvious in her voice though the question she asked was deadly serious. “If you are, there are simpler ways to go about it.”

“Such as?”

She shrugged. “Simply ordering it.”

“I am not trying to get you hanged.” Killian laid his hand over hers for a moment before pulling it away and facing the practice ring again. “I really think I am ready to try practice with edged weapons.”

Serena took a deep breath and let out a soft laugh while shaking her head. “I will make a bargain with you, my prince.” A slight smile curled her lips. “If you can best me in a bout, then we will begin working with edged weapons… tomorrow.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed, and she could see him turning the offer over in his mind. Serena picked up the goblet and sipped the wine while waiting for his answer. “If I win, we will begin working with edged weapons?”

She nodded and met his eyes before answering. “Yes.”

He looked her up and down, wary, certain there was a catch. “I don’t have to do anything else?”

“No.” Her smile was confident. “Just best me.”

“And, if you win?”

“You trust my judgment. You trust that when you are ready,” she said and shrugged, “we will begin practicing with edged blades.”

“Done.” He held out his hand, a slight smile curling his lips.

“As you wish, my prince,” Serena said, setting her goblet down. She turned and picked up a pair of blunted long swords, handing one to Killian. “Are you ready?”

He took the sword from her and tested its weight in his grip before walking back into the practice ring. Out of habit, Serena scanned the area, noting they had attracted a crowd. She caught sight of Ryan and the three additional members of the Royal Guard, all watching for threats. Other spectators included ladies of the court, who hid their faces behind fans or shielded their delicate skin from the rays of the sun with a parasol.

One lady, in particular, caught Serena’s eye. She was new to the court, but in the few short months since her arrival, Katia Dennsmore had almost every eligible young man falling over himself to win her hand. Rumors about the offer her father had made to the crown ranged from the ridiculous to the outright obscene. She was a stunning beauty with pale blue-green eyes, porcelain skin and chestnut hair, and her petite frame was always covered with opulent gowns at the height of fashion for proper ladies. With the right family name and fortune to match, Katia was everything the royal family could want in a bride for the second in line to the throne. Her active pursuit of Killian was a favorite topic among the court gossips.

Serena’s throat tightened and poisoned words drifted through her mind. The voices of court harpies and gossips assured her that Killian’s declarations were false, that the prince was simply indulging in a dalliance with a commoner before settling into marriage with a proper lady. As if she knew what Serena was thinking, Katia lifted her hand and gave a dainty wave. To other onlookers, it would appear as though she was trying to catch the prince’s attention, but Serena sensed the other woman’s eyes on her. She took a deep breath, turned and was about to walk into the practice ring when a man’s voice broke the silence.

“Are you going to show our princeling how it’s done?” one of her fellow trainees asked, the sneer evident in his voice.

Serena glanced over her shoulder, looking the hulking brute of a man up and down before she said, “You’re Roberts, right?”

“Yes.” He puffed up and threw his chest out, eyeing her like a hunter going in for the kill.

“I’ll remember that.” She turned and made her way to the center of the practice ring.

“Is there anything wrong?” Killian asked. He’d known Serena long enough to spot the tightness around her eyes that wasn’t always there. She walked a little faster than normal, her glossy black boots kicking up dust with each step.

She took a deep breath and let it out.
Insults directed at the heir to the throne coming from a Royal Guard candidate? That is not acceptable. I will speak with Captain Donnavon.
She considered mentioning it to Killian, but thought better of it and shrugged. “The usual.”

He nodded and because he knew it would help calm her, he asked, “Directed at you or me?”

“You,” Serena answered and without thinking added, “and treating me as if I were a tavern wench, not an officer who outranks him.”

Anger flashed in Killian’s eyes and his grip on the sword tightened. “Would you like me to take care of him for you?”

“No. I can handle him”—Serena flashed a wicked smile, eyeing his sword hand, making sure he relaxed its grip some before she finished—”when the time comes.”

“Once again.” He shook his head. “Please remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Serena chuckled and offered him a quick bow. “Consider it done.” She stepped back and settled into a ready stance. “My prince?”

“I love it when you call me that,” Killian said in a low whisper as he prepared himself.

“And here I thought you hated it with all the complaints I hear about your title,” Serena teased before they touched swords and the conversation stopped.

She deflected his first testing blows, getting a feel for the differences in the power of his attacks caused by the change in weapon. Settling into the rhythm, she let Killian lead the dance while she watched for an opening.

He dropped his guard. Serena took advantage, feinting to the left before trying to slip in on the right. Killian managed to make a messy block, deflecting her attack, though he was off balance. Serena pressed her advantage, raining a flurry of blows down on him, not giving him a chance to rest or think.

Killian fell back, the heavier blade flashing in the sun as he tried to fend off Serena’s attacks. He let muscle memory take over and, on instinct, acted to keep her sword at bay. Several minutes later, her attacks eased. He pressed the advantage, going on the offensive. Killian feinted, trying to get past her defenses, but she didn’t let her guard down. He watched, waiting for an opening while keeping the pressure on. When he saw Serena’s left shoulder dip lower than her right, without thinking, he reacted, his blade lashed out to tap her arm. As the blade connected, something smacked hard against his upper inner thigh. He froze and looked down. Serena’s blade lay across his leg. His own rested against her forearm just below where her sleeve disappeared underneath her leather arm guard.

Her lips curled into a wry smile, and one eyebrow rose higher than the other. “You’re dead, my prince,” she whispered so it wouldn’t be overhead by the spectators.

“So, it would seem, my lady.”

“Would you care to know your mistake?”

Killian took a step back and bowed low. When he spoke again, his words were a promise-filled whisper. “I would. However, I have a previous engagement with a lady, who will not be put off.”

Serena stepped forward and held out her hand. “One of your many admirers?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the retreating gaggle of giggling female courtiers with Katia leading the way, her black parasol standing out among its paler counterparts.

“She’s an older woman,” he sucked in a deep hissing breath and said, “very powerful.”

Serena laughed and closed her hand around the hilt of his sword. “Even I am not foolish enough to tangle with Her Majesty.”

“My love,” Killian breathed, as their fingers brushed when he released his grip.

“Your Highness.” She offered him a deep curtsy, turned and strode away, leaving Killian alone.

Good Gods, how does she manage to do that? Leave me so off balance and yet yearning for her company?

He watched her leave, fighting to keep a stupid grin from appearing on his face. He didn’t notice when Ryan stepped up beside him until the captain of his personal guard cleared his throat. Killian shook himself and turned to face him.

“Captain?”

“You are starting to garner more than the usual amount of attention that follows a prince of the realm. Your grandmother is expecting you.”

Killian sighed and felt his mood turn dark.
I’d rather not discuss my impending betrothal to one of these hounding harpies.
The discussions were never pleasant, especially since the one woman he had any inclination toward marrying had just walked away, held no land or title and was not from one of the
proper
families.