The first time Eirika held a sword, she was visiting Lyon in Grado. As usual, Ephraim showed her the basic movements, while Lyon lingered in the background with his books.
Occasionally, Ephraim left her to her own devices and joined Lyon for a chat. She wondered what they talked about in her absence. Even now, with Ephraim investigating the origins of the dark stone and Lyon's whereabouts unknown, it seemed like the two of them were conducting their own war – the real war – and her battles were just theater.
It was one reason she was glad Seth showed up for their practice session. He made sure she was informed. He didn't feel the need to treat her with kid gloves. She could trust him to answer her questions honestly, without the sugarcoating she'd come to expect from her other courtiers.
Most of the time, at least.
She'd seen his eyes shutter when they spoke in the garden. He was hiding something, and she was determined to find out what it was, whether it was the wound that wouldn't heal or something else on his mind.
"I was wondering if you'd be willing to spar with me today," she said as they set up the training grounds. She was using a rapier today, her preferred weapon. The double-edged blade with its ornate hilt had been a gift from Ephraim.
"Princess…" Seth picked up his own sword but did not assume a fighting stance.
"What is it? Don't tell me you've lost faith in me. Just the other day you told me my sword arm was magnificent."
"So it is, my lady. If I seem reluctant it's because I wish you would just leave the fighting to me."
You too, Seth? "How can I when so many have died for me and my brother?"
He raised a shoulder. "Your kingdom needs you, Princess."
Without warning, she advanced toward him and lunged. He moved quickly to parry, deflecting the blow just as she predicted.
"I need you." She pushed forward again, and this time he was able to knock the rapier out of her hand. Eirika attempted to grab the hilt of his sword, a trick he'd taught her for situations like this, only for him to grip her with his free hand and pull her against him, completely disarming her.
"Princess Eirika, lately you have been far too close to me." His voice was different now, rougher and more strained.
"I-I don't know what you mean," she lied and gasped as Seth released her, so dependent she was on him propping her up. When she recovered, she saw that he had moved to the opposite end of the field, breathing heavily though he couldn't possibly have exerted himself so.
"I am queen now," she said with as much dignity as she could muster. "I may as well acknowledge it. I have a country to rebuild and govern. I must be worthy of my station, and that means treating all my subjects equally."
"I'm glad you understand, Princess."
"I don't, in fact. You're not just a subject to me, Seth."
Another breath, then silence. Eirika wanted to press her case, confessing just how much he meant to her. The words were on the tip of her tongue.
"When I searched the castle earlier, we found Monica, your highness."
The name sounded familiar. Orson's late wife. "I thought she passed a year ago."
"That's just the thing, my lady. She was there, in the flesh. But she was not alive."
Not alive? Eirika shivered. She had met Monica only a few times, but she and Orson had struck her as an inordinately happy couple. It was a tragedy that she died so young.
She didn't want to think about what he meant by not alive.
"Keep in mind also, what happened in Jehanna," he continued. "Carlyle was content to serve Queen Ismaire until he saw an opportunity to have her all to himself. I…I've often wondered if I would suffer the same fate."
"Seth…" It wasn't possible. He was Seth, her father's most trusted retainer. The man who protected her and delivered her to safety when the world was falling apart.
"So you see, princess. This fraternization is out of the question. My duty is to protect you and Prince Ephraim. I will be there for you both as a Knight of Renais. And that must be enough."
He brushed past her on his way to the castle. Practice was over.
Eirika stared after him, speechless. She hadn't seen him this agitated since the night they fled Renais. The way he had cut down the enemy; the way he held her against him with an iron grip as they charged into the night. He hid it well, but somewhere beneath the controlled facade there was a passionate man, and she wanted to be there when he finally did break free. She wanted to experience it. Experience him.
From the way his hands habitually drifted toward her waist, the small of her back, her clavicle — no matter how much he tried to deny it or what he claimed to feel — she had a feeling he wanted the same for her, too.
