Disclaimer: I don't own the recongizable characters.
Sorry for the long wait. I have self-discipline issues.
Enter the Prince
Chapter Four
Three weeks had passed. Three weeks of being in that room. Three weeks of them trying to decide what to do with me, without my say. And then it finally came to them. 'Vayga needs to be trained.' Great. Just peachy.
Today was my first day of training. I dressed in my own clothes, not the clothes that were set out for me. My breeches were worn at the knees, and my tunic was torn, but I refused to wear the clothes that were so finely made to suit me. I hung my knives from their spot in my belt, and waited for my escort. I was not permitted to walk around by myself; they were afaird I'd run off, which, if I got the chance, I would try.
A knock came from my door, and a young man appeared. His eyes ran up and down my frame, as mine did the same.
Pale blue eyes took me in from behind curly black hair. He was tall, far taller than I was. His skin was pale, but still darker than mine. His blue tunic was simple, but clearly finely made. The shirt accented his eyes, and made them appear to be ablaze. There was an interested and skeptical look in his eyes when they finally looked into mine. He appeared to be bored.
"Who the heck are you?" I didn't try to my irritation, and the man raised an eyebrow.
"Prince Jonathon the Second, youngest son of His Majesty King Jonathon of Conte." There was such arrogance in his voice, that I wanted nothing more than to hit him.
"Well, excuse me, Your Majesty. You probably expect me to at least ask your forgiveness for speaking so rudely to the future king of Tortall, but let's get something straight right now. I answer to no one. That includes your father, and you. So from now on, I suggest that you don't take that tone of supposed superiority with me. I am armed, and my temper is not one to take lightly."
Throughout my little speech, Jonathon's eyes got darker and darker with anger. "Is that a threat?"
"Yes, I believe that's what such things are called nowadays." Sarcasm ran down from each word.
"I would challenge you to a duel had you not been a girl." He turned to go out the door.
"To scared that I'd win?" I taunted. His head snapped around, and his eyes were absolutely on fire with rage.
"To the practice courts." A muscle in his jaw was twitching.
"Gladly."
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Ten minutes later, we stood in the practice courts, shoes off, weapons drawn. My curve-backs where in my hands, and I stood completely still in stance. Jonathon's sword hung limply at his side as he paced, obviously trying to figure the best way to attack.
Our weapon choices made it hard to fight in the usual way. Swords were meant for farther range than knives. He could lunge for me, but then there was the chance that he'd miss, and then I'd have an opening to strike.
It was strange how silent we were. We just stared at each other, contemplating on how to attack.
Jonathon lost his patience. He made a lightening fast lunge at my shoulder. I managed to roll my shoulder enough that he missed, and brought one of my knives up, but I wasn't quick enough. Instead of leaving a nice scratch on his cheek, I took off a lock of his onyx hair.
We broke away for a second before coming back together. There was the clash of steel on steel that rang through the courts as we blocked each other's attacks.
Then the window of opportunity. Jonathon thrust a little too far off to the side. I caught the sword's blade in between the hilt and blade of my knife, and twisted. The sword's blade shattered near the hilt, only leaving four inches of it.
But then disaster struck, in the seconds it took to shatter his blade, Jonathon had me pinned against his chest with one arm, the other holding broken sword to my throat.
"Do you yield?" His breath came out violently, stirring the hair in my face. I lifted my face up to his, and slowly repositioned my knives in my hands. My arms were pinned in between our bodies, but now the points were digging into his ribcage. Surprise flashed in his eyes when he realized what had changed.
"I believe we are at a draw." I lowered my face, because it was starting to hurt to crane my neck so far to see his face. My eyes were level with the base of his throat. "Let go of me, and I'll step back." And his arm was gone from my back, and I took my spaceā¦and looked around for the first time.
Apparently we had gathered a crowd during our fight. Dozens of people stood along the borders of the court, looking a bit shocked.
"You're fair surprising." Jonathon said quietly as he picked up the remains of his sword from the ground. And when he looked back up at me, there was interest in his eyes, and curiosity. And truth be told, I wasn't sure if I liked that any better than the bored I had seen earlier. "Anyway, I was supposed to escort you to the training grounds, and I believe we're late."
Author's Note: Prince Roald died in battle, the other prince(for the life of me, I can't remember his name) doesn't want the crown. That'll come up later in the story.
And the curve-backed knives are in the same of an upside down u. The hilt is on one side, and the blade is along the outside.
And a big THANK YOU to my reviewers! 'Love you guys!
