Rory woke up to someone banging into the room before dawn. They heard numerous other doors slammed open and guards yelling. Rory shot up, and she heard one of the guys in her room fall from his cot. There was a muffled curse as he lay on the ground. "Up! Up! You have sixty seconds to be dressed and in the hall. Don't bring your swords, just yourselves. We're going for a run. Move!"
They exited the room and the four occupants scrambled around in the dark. She had her dress over her head and flung to the wall in a matter of seconds and she threw on the uniform provided for her. She looked around wildly, but in the dark couldn't see anything and had no idea what to do with her hair. Seeing that she was dressed, Nick grabbed her elbow and dragged her from the room with him, leaving the other two to exit behind them. Her eyes were adjusting to the dark, and by the time she could get any picture of what was going on, the guards were yelling again and the new men were being herded out of the hall and down a flight of stairs.
They poured out of a side exit to the castle and Rory was pushed forward onto the dew covered grass. She ran her hands through her hair, looking around at the men. Within seconds all had exited the castle, and the guards were in front of the group. Without so much as an explanation or a chance to get their bearings, two of the guards took off. Most of the country men were uncertain of what to do, but Rory and Nick glanced at each other, rolling their eyes and sighing in exasperation before streaking off after the two guards. Three of the other men had realized what the guards were doing just as quickly, and they'd shot off as well.
After the first hour and a half, most of the men were lagging farther and farther behind. She and Nick were still at the front, but their pace had definitely slowed. By now the sun was beginning to rise and she could see that they'd been woken by and were training with the king's personal guard. Sweat rolled down her back in rivulets and she felt her forehead, neck, and chest drenched in it. The muggy morning heat was beginning to set in and the humidity of dawn had prevented the sweat from leaving her skin. She clenched her fists, biting the insides of her cheeks as the guards ten feet in front of her and Nick splashed through another stream. She didn't even feel it as her foot and shin entered and then exited the icy water. They'd already gone through four damn streams. She was convinced that they were crossing over the same spring in loops.
Rory didn't bother glancing over her shoulder. They'd lost sight of all but four other men and the two guards in the front. The last of the other new men had fallen behind ten minutes ago. She flicked her head to the side, trying to get some of the hair from her face. It was weighted down with perspiration and sticking to her neck a face.
Finally the exited the woods at a steady jog and the two guards stopped, turning around to face the six behind them. They were breathing heavily, but didn't bend over to catch their breath. They didn't even look all that winded. Nick collapsed to the ground and didn't even bother to roll onto his back, along with two of the other four men that had stayed with them. One of the men sat down and put his head between his knees, closing his eyes tightly. The fourth man fell to his knees and closed his eyes, resting the crown of his head on the cool grass. Rory bent over, resting her hands on her knees and closing her eyes, gritting her teeth as she forced down the pain shooting through her calves and the arches of her feet. She was just grateful that she, Jess, Lane, and Dave ran so much. They'd practically lived in the woods as children and still couldn't be kept indoors for long.
The two guards nodded towards the five young men and one young woman, "You six were in the lead the entire time, weren't you?" one of them asked. Rory nodded, unable to speak as she inhaled heavily.
The second guard nodded, "You two were the first ones to start running, too, right?" he asked,
motioning to Nick, who still hadn't rolled onto his back. He hadn't even moved.
Rory nodded, still unable to stand up straight, "Yes, sir."
The two guards shared a look, "Leigh Danes and Nicholas Dreeden?"
Nick raised his head weakly and Rory's head cocked back, "Yes."
The first guard nodded slowly, "I figured."
The two shared a look, but were too exhausted to give it any thought before Rory sat down heavily, pulling her legs to her chest. "How long did we run for?" she asked.
"Two hours."
Her eyes bulged slightly and she fell on her side, closing her eyes.
"How far?" Nick breathed, pushing himself up on his elbows; he'd finally rolled over onto his stomach.
"About fifteen miles." The other four men emitted small whistles and grunts, lying down and curling into balls.
The two guards laughed, "That's impressive, though. Not many men can keep up with the king's guard." he glanced over at Rory, "And especially not a woman." She smiled lightly, but didn't respond as the other men began trickling out of the woods, every last one collapsing as he made his way to the group.
------
After they'd gotten their breakfast they were led out to the practice rings. Rory had finally found a leather cord and her hair was secured up in a messy bun, wisps of it falling out around her face. They were told to pair up and begin dueling, while the king's current personal guards would walk amongst them, correcting and criticizing.
Unsurprisingly, no one wanted to pair up with her. They all thought she would be the worst and that the rejects would be practicing with her. Finally the head guard forced one of the men to pair up with her. He grumbled the entire time, but once they were told to begin, she had him of the ground and her blade at his throat in a matter of seconds. The men complained loudly, saying that it'd been luck. Several jumped up, saying that they'd fight her just to prove that it hadn't been a real win. By the time the fifth man lost, Nick was rolling on the ground, having already told the men not to take Leigh lightly. No one listened to him, of course. And as the sixth man fell faster than the first five, he cackled like a jackal, holding his stomach as he rolled from side to side.
Several of the men yelled that if he was so amazing, then why didn't he go against her himself. He'd just rolled his eyes and explained that he had fought her before and had nothing to prove to any of them, so he wasn't going to fight her again.
Eventually they took half an hour for lunch and then came back and worked on archery. She was okay at that, but not one of the best. Periodically the king's advisor would come and pull one of the men away. The first man to be pulled returned in a little over an hour and revealed that the king was having a personal meeting with each one of them. At that, Rory had swallowed hard and shifted her right leg ever so slightly, feeling her crest rub against the rough material of her pants.
All in all, the first day was uneventful, but the men didn't disillusion themselves into believing that it would be easy. They all knew that in the morning they would be sore. The guards told them that tomorrow they'd be working on building arm and leg muscles. . . . .doing exercises and lifting sacks of flour.
------
The next morning, after going for their run and eating breakfast, they were once more led to the training grounds, only this time they entered a large pavilion without walls. She guessed to prevent heat exhaustion while the men were working. The guards began pulling the bags of flour out of a small closet while the new men lined up.
They were halfway through their first exercise when the king's advisor came in, "Leigh Danes!" he called looking around. She dropped her sack gently and stood up straight, meeting his eye. He nodded and motioned towards the door, "Come with me."
She wove her way through the men and met him right outside the building, "Yes sir?"
He started towards the castle, leaving her to follow him, "The king is meeting with each of the new men individually. You're up first today." Her mouth curved into a perfect 'O' and she nodded slowly, not that he was looking at her. He walked quickly, with long strides. She nearly limped after him, and she was sure that the 'bow-legged' look was nice. Miss Patty would be horrified that she was about to see the king, fresh in all her glory. Dried sweat plastered every inch of her skin, her hair was stiff in her bun from it, she was wearing men's clothes, and she didn't have a speck of powder on her body. No to mention that she was positive she smelled wonderful.
He led her up a few paths and then into the castle. She looked around, chewing on the insides of her cheeks. The new soldiers weren't allowed to walk around the castle. They'd only been into the foyer once; the night they came. Otherwise they used back entrances.
Once inside, his pace quickened and she sped up painfully to catch up with him. "Right this way." he went up the large staircase and she nearly swore, gritting her teeth as pain shot through her lower body. Upon reaching the top, he went left and she followed two steps behind.
They turned right and went down a corridor littered with windows. Looking outside, she saw that there were private gardens on either side. They were gorgeous, like nothing she'd ever seen. Huge and scattered with every color you could think of, with a fountain in the middle of each. Several gardeners were poking around them, making sure it looked perfect. She smiled, following the advisor down the narrow hall. . . .Rachel loved flowers.
Suddenly the man in front of her stopped. Rory glanced around, there was one door directly to their left and another one to the right, a little ways down the hall. He raised his fist and knocked several times before pushing the door open. He didn't even bother saying anything. He simply let her in and then left, closing the door behind him.
Despite her resolve to ignore him, her gaze fell on the king. She hadn't really gotten a good look at him two nights before. It'd been dark and she'd been tired. He was young. . . .well, she knew how old he was, only four more than her, but she'd never expected to find him so. . . . . .what was the word? Attractive? No, that wasn't right. She could never find him attractive. His hair was surprisingly messy, sticking up at several different angles as if he was constantly running his hands through it. He had a strong, sharp jaw and clear tanned skin. Strong arms from what she could see and long, lean muscles. At the moment he was seated behind a large desk, his elbow on the surface of it and his hand tangled in his hair, staring down at a sheet of parchment in front of him. Obviously he knew she was in the room, but was ignoring her for the moment.
He slowly looked up after a moment and his eyes fell on her. She looked away and took a step farther into the room, looking around. At last she realized it was a small library. The two longer walls of the rectangular room were made up of shelves reaching from about her hip to the ceiling. She glanced around and saw a ladder leaning against one of the walls. Very useful to get books from the upper shelves. In the middle of the wall across from the door there was a large window with a cushioned bench. She took a step closer and exhaled longingly. The perfect spot to read.
The king's desk was several feet from one of the shorter sides, so that he was looking at most of the room. The wall behind him had several large maps, and the wall across from him had an elaborate fire place with a portrait of a young man and a boy above it. She blinked slowly, taking a step towards it and looking closer. Most portraits were stuffy and unnatural, but these two looked genuinely happy, even though they weren't smiling. The man looked a lot like the king, only a few years older.
Suddenly she sensed him beside her, looking up at the picture as well, his posture straight and his hands clasped behind his back. She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore his presence. "The former king." He didn't realize she knew exactly who it was. His voice was void of emotion. She wondered if it still bothered him.
Rory gave the picture one last glance before walking over to one of the shelves, skimming over the title. She was there for only a moment before he followed her, holding out his hand, "Tristan Dugrey." She didn't look at him, simply picked up one of the books and skimmed over the first page, ignoring his presence. He cleared his throat after a moment, his hand still in the air.
"I know who you are." her gaze didn't leave the page. Out of the corner of her eye she caught his eyebrow arching. They sat in silence for a moment before he snatched the book from her hands. She looked up defiantly, an insult on the tip of her tongue. He smirked lightly and she rolled her eyes, walking away from him. "Michiavelli is lost on you."
Her back was to him, so she didn't see his eyes widen before glancing down at the book in his hand. The Prince. "You can read?" he asked, obviously surprised.
She glanced over at him, "Yes, I can read. I'm glad you think so highly of your people."
He shrugged, slipping the book back into it's place, "Most peasants can't read." He looked her up and down, "Especially the women." Rory turned to face him, her eyes narrowed. There was something about his expression. It was half way between disinterested, amused, and impressed.
"Well in my house, reading was always important."
He smirked, stepping closer, "That's good. I love reading." she just gave him a looked and rolled her eyes, going back over to the bookcase.
"How many of these have you read?"
"About half." her eyes widened slightly and she turned to look up at him, obviously surprised.
He smiled lightly, "I'd love to read the rest, but I rarely have time for anything." She nodded slowly, turning back to the books. "You could borrow any of them if you'd like. I don't mind." Rory didn't respond, simply pulled another book out and flipped through it. "Have you read the Decameron?" he asked, stepping closer to her.
"When I was thirteen." She didn't move, even though his closeness was making her skin tingle and her stomach drop.
He nodded slowly, glancing around his library, "Well Mary, what would you like to do."
Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed, "Mary?"
"Yes, Mary. Since you refuse to tell me your name."
"Where does Mary come from?"
He smirked and leaned into her, his breath tickling her neck as he whispered into her ear, "The holy virgin."
She jerked away from him, "What makes you so sure I'm a virgin?" she set the book down and walked over to the maps, ignoring him. He watched her walk away and crossed his arms, staring at her back. It was strange, she didn't seem impressed by him at all. The men he'd seen yesterday had practically been kissing his feet. She didn't even seem to respect him. His gaze followed her hand as it moved to sweep a strand of hair from her face; it'd gotten out of the bun at the back of her head. He chewed on his bottom lip, studying her. She was thin, but it was more of a strong, lean frame. She had slender curves and long legs that he was sure would seem to go on and on. He could only imagine what they looked like without anything covering them. Her face was unexplainable. Large, round eyes whose color rivaled the sky. Her lips were generous, a light tint to them. She had high cheekbones and a natural blush, something he'd always found undeniable, but a trait few women were blessed with.
It'd been dark when he'd seen her last, and she'd been in a crowd. Now, by herself, he saw that she was even more beautiful than he'd first expected. There was something about her, a natural allure. There were countless beauties in his court, but he didn't even know what they looked like in old clothes and without their faces made up. This girl. . . .she was gorgeous in old clothes, her hair a mess, and her face red from the heat and her training.
She walked with her shoulders squared, her head up straight. She didn't walk like a commoner. If he didn't know any better he would've said it was a learned posture, something a governess or one of the etiquette tutors in the city would teach. He walked over to her, his skin tingling ever so slightly from where his arm had grazed hers, "So what town are you from?"
"Stars Hollow." she nodded towards one of the maps and Tristan glanced over at it, finding the small dot after a moment. His uncle hadn't been lying. It really was small.
He tore his gaze from the map to look at her, "So what's your name?"
She rolled her eyes, a bored expression finding it's way onto that gorgeous face, "I'm sure you know my name."
He grinned, leaning against the wall. He most certainly did, "Why would you say that?"
She looked over at him, slightly annoyed, "Because you're the king. You wouldn't let forty men into the castle without at least checking their history, and I highly doubt that you're unintelligent enough to forget the one girl on the list." She crossed her arms, looking back at the map, "Especially the girl."
His eyebrow arched, "Oh? Why especially the girl?"
"Besides the fact that I stand out because of it? It's a known fact throughout the kingdom that you notice women."
Tristan laughed lightly, pushing himself off the wall, "Is that so?"
She looked over and met his gaze, "Yes."
He took a step closer to her, "Well maybe it's just that women notice me."
Rory tried to break eye contact, but couldn't seem to, "Most people do notice the king." she swallowed as he took a step closer, "But you didn't get that title for anything that you yourself have done, so don't be so smug." She looked away, walking to sit in his chair. She pulled her knees to her chest and looked over the document he'd been reading. Tristan opened his mouth to yell at her, but closed it instead. It wasn't like it was very important, just something to do with the outer villages and them wanting more protection. He couldn't believe she was so forward. He walked around to the front of the table and rested his hands on it, leaning forward as he watched her eyes dart across the page. She glanced up at him after a moment, "You haven't signed it."
His lip quirked, "Very observant."
She ignored his condescending reply, "Why not?"
He shrugged dismissively, "I haven't decided if I want to give it to them yet." Her lips parted slightly and her eyes narrowed in disgust. She opened her mouth wider to give him what he was sure would be a biting insult, but he cut her off, rolling his eyes, "Kidding. I just haven't gotten around to it yet." She closed her mouth slowly, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. They sat in silence for a moment, her looking around the room and him staring at her. "You don't like me." She didn't respond, "You don't know me, and yet you really just don't like me."
She stood from the chair and walked over to the window seat, ignoring him. "I never said I didn't like you."
He stayed at the table, but turned to look at her, "You didn't have to." She sat and crossed her legs Indian style, letting her shoulders slouch as she looked out the window. "Have I done something to offend you?"
She didn't respond, just shrugged. After a moment she spoke, "You're the king. At one point or another you've done something to offend every member of your kingdom."
He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. No one had ever spoken to him like this. It wasn't that he surrounded himself with flatterers, people just didn't talk to the king like she was. Not if they valued their life, anyway. He walked over to her slowly. Obviously he had done something, but he wasn't about to ask her about it. It wasn't like he actually cared. He didn't even know her. "So what's your name?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the shelf as he grinned.
Rory looked over at him, smiling lightly. He wasn't like she expected, "You tell me."
"Hmm." he sat down on the bench and leaned his back against the wall, "So many options."
She bit her lip, grinning as he stroked his chin. "Leigh."
He smiled at her, licking his bottom lip, "Beautiful name." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "So Leigh, I hear you're an amazing fighter."
"Oh yeah?"
He nodded, "Rumor had it that you and Nicholas Dreeden are the best."
Her head cocked back, "Really?"
"Really."
"Huh."
They sat in silence for a moment, Rory thinking over what he'd said, while he was watching her. "Are you?"
She looked over at him and shrugged, "I don't know. Yesterday I beat six of the other men, but then we broke for lunch."
He was silent for a moment, "Who were they?" Rory sighed, thinking for a moment as she slowly listed their names. His eyes widened with each name, but she was staring off into space, trying to picture each face. She looked at him once she finished and he chewed on the insides of his cheeks, thinking. "How long did it take you to beat them?"
She shrugged, "Not very long." He was silent, studying her. She shifted uncomfortably as his eyes raked her body, "What?"
He licked his lips before pressing them together, folding his arms over his chest, "How old are you?"
She looked down, biting her bottom lip, "Seventeen."
His eyes widened and his head cocked forward, "What?"
Rory glanced up at him, still biting her lip, "I'm seventeen."
"And you beat the six of them that quickly?"
"Yes." she said modestly, blushing.
He exhaled a long breath, "Wow." She smiled lightly, unsure of what to say. His gaze leveled with hers and he just stared, his face void of emotion, sensing that she was uncomfortable. He'd had no idea she was that young. He'd thought she was at least nineteen. Maybe twenty or twenty one. . .but seventeen? She was still a child. He saw that she shifted again, looking away form him and biting her lip. He unfolded his arms, trying to think of something to say to make her more comfortable, "So, how long have you been training?"