The Weight of a Gift

"Viego, wait!" I whisper as loudly as I dare.

"Hush, Kalista," he whispers back, "Do you want us to get caught?"

I shake my head.

"I didn't think so. Come on, hurry and stay quiet. We're almost there."

"Mm-hmm," I acknowledge.

The palace halls are eerie at night and I don't like walking through them. The stone floors are cold under my feet and the darkness makes me think I see monsters in the shadows.

"You just turned ten," I scold myself, "a big girl who knows that there aren't any monsters in the shadows. No reason to be nervous. And if there were monsters, you would hear them coming."

That's my least favorite part about the halls at night. They're too quiet. There are no lords and ladies talking about politics or gossip, no servants rushing around to do important tasks, and fewer guards clanking about in armor. The silence makes this place feel unwelcoming.

"We shouldn't be here. We should be in bed."

Then suddenly, something breaks the silence. Metal on stone. It's one of the guards about to come around the corner. Viego has heard the footsteps too.

"There," he says as he grabs my shoulder and tugs me along, "behind the tapestry."

He pulls the beautifully woven threads back and we duck behind, become as still as we can, and hope the guard doesn't notice four feet sticking out from the bottom of the hunting scene.

"This is silly," I grumble to myself, "I'm a princess hiding like a child that is avoiding chores."

I look up to Viego.

"And he's a prince doing the same. This is not appropriate behavior for people like us. I should have stayed in bed."

But I hadn't wanted to stay in bed. Viego had been so excited looking when he snuck into my room and woke me up. His blue eyes were wide and practically glowing in the moonlight as he told me he had a surprise for me. But when I asked him what it was, he only responded, "It won't be a surprise if I tell you. Follow me; I know you will like it." I couldn't fall back asleep after hearing that.

"And now here we are, hiding behind the tapestry of great-grandfather on a drake hunt."

After several minutes of stillness, the sounds of the guard's footsteps disappear down the hall. Then, we wait one more minute before creeping from our hiding place.

"I didn't like how close that was," I say with a sigh of relief, "if we get caught, we will be in trouble. Father hates it when people touch the art."

"You will get in trouble," Viego responds, "I won't."

"Why not?

"He's your father, of course he can say when his little princess goes to bed. Not me though, I'm his brother, he doesn't have that kind of authority over me."

"That's right. He's my father's brother, my uncle. He doesn't feel like an uncle though, or at least I don't think how an uncle is supposed to feel. I don't have much to compare him to. I know Seve, who works in the garden with his mother, has an uncle who is one of the kitchen's cooks. I've seen the three of them together before. His mother and uncle look like they are the same age. They are both adults, while Seve is still young. I can count the years Viego and I are apart on my fingers.

Also, Seve treats his uncle like he would his mother, speaking to him with respect, listening perfectly to his instructions, and behaving as you think a polite child would towards adults. According to grandfather, I am too informal with Viego and should address him as "uncle" and stop talking back to him, and stop playing so roughly with him, and many more things. But when it's just us, when there aren't any other adults around, he doesn't care if I only call him "Viego." I can't imagine Seve and his uncle like that at all."

"I still think you will get in trouble," I continue.

Viego shrugs.

"I don't think I will," he says.

"If you don't think so, then why were you hiding?"

"My reasons are my own," he says then gives me a smug smile, "don't question your elders."

"I hate it when he says that. He knows I hate it when he says that. Since he found that out, he's only said it more."

I give him my sourest frown and bite my lip to stop myself from saying anything, not because it would be rude, but because I don't want the guard to hear the noise and come back. My expression however, has only appeared to make Viego's smirk grow irritatingly wider.

"You won't be making that face for long," he says, "not once you see what I got for you. Come on."

We finish making our way to Viego's bedroom, hurry inside, and once the door is closed, let out sighs of relief. I look around his bedroom. Like mine, it is neat and tidy, with beautifully carved wooden furniture and a soft bed piled high with plush pillows and warm blankets that looks so very inviting to my tired self. On the wall opposite his bed is a painting of one of the Camavoran navy's ships at sea. The pale light falling on it makes the white crests of the waves shine like actual water. Below the painting are his drawers of folded finery and on top of them, little dragons carved from wood stand perfectly in a line.

I step over to take a closer look at the Camavoran one, serpentine and graceful. This one was always Viego's favorite. It's obvious from just looking at it. The paint has worn away on the top of its head and the carved points of the dragon's spines have been rounded smooth from years of play.

"Only him playing with it though. He never let me play with this one."

"Kalista, leave him alone," he says as if he could sense me wanting to reach out and touch it, "come here, and close your eyes until I say you can open them."

I do what he asks and stand with my eyes closed. Next to me, I can hear him crouch down and search for something under his bed. Despite how tired I am and how annoying Viego has been tonight, I can't help but get excited at the thought of this mystery thing.

"What had to wait until night for him to show me?"

"Kalista," he talks as he continues to search, "do you remember how I was given a metal sword last month."

"Uh-huh."

"Well," he grunts as he stands back up.

I can hear something scraping over the ground.

"I'm a man now."

My eyes are still closed, but I can picture that he's puffed out his chest to look like that statue of the Knight Commander from the last war, all heroic looking. I bet he looks ridiculous.

"And as a man, I don't need toys anymore."

"If that's true," I can't help but tease, "then why do you still have all your little dragons?"

"They aren't toys," he protests.

I can practically hear his puffed posture deflating.

"They are miniature statuettes."

I giggle.

"Hush," he hisses, "let me finish speaking or I'll put the surprise back."

"Sorry, sorry," I say, only half meaning it, "I'll be quiet."

He takes a breath to calm himself and then continues to talk.

"As I was saying, I don't need toys anymore and that is why I want you to have this. You may open your eyes now."

I do.

In his outstretched hands is a wooden sword. It was carved to look like the blades carried by Camavoran soldiers, though it is completely blunt. Its edges are dented from the countless times it has struck training dummies, the finish has been worn away around the hilt, and the grip has been wrapped in a piece of fabric dyed a regal blue color. I recognize this toy.

"This is your sword," I say.

"Not anymore," he corrects, "now it is yours. I want you to have it."

"Really?" I gasp, "Do you really mean it?"

My cheeks feel warm, like it was closer to midday than midnight, as they pull up in a smile.

"I do," Viego says, "I was your age when I was given this sword. I've trained with it for years and now I am giving it to you."

He holds the sword out and I take it from him as carefully as though it were a real metal one. It is heavier than I expect it to be.

"I've seen what you pay attention to when we are force to sit through court," he continues, "you're not watching the ladies with their dresses, you don't care about their gossip, and you look like you are going to fall asleep whenever they discuss trade or agriculture. But you are always watching the guards. You pay more attention when any general gives a report and I've seen you sneak out to watch the knights train."

"I know my father wants you to learn how to be a proper lady of the court so that he can marry you off for some political alliance someday," he waves his hand dismissively as he says this, "but that doesn't mean that you can't also learn how to fight. We are royalty of Camavor, a kingdom of great warriors. I'm a prince and I'm learning how to fight. You should also be both a warrior and a princess. I think a sword matches you better than any dress would."

I throw myself at Viego and hug him with all my strength.

"Thank you," I say, "thank you, thank you."

"Whoah! Careful with that, it still hurts to get hit by," he calls out startled, "but, you are welcome."

His arms wrap around me for a quick hug. When he releases me, he asks me a question.

"Are you ready to begin your training?"

"Yes!" I exclaim.

He puts a finger to his lips and shushes me.

"Oh, right, still up past bedtime. Whispering only. Sorry."

This time I answer him more quietly but with no less enthusiasm.

"Yes!"

Viego goes to the corner of his room where his new sword rests on stand and picks it up. Moonlight shines down on the blade, reflecting brilliantly off its perfectly polished surface. For a moment, the blade looks as though it is made of pure light.

"I'll teach you a few practice exercises," he says, "but first, I need you to promise me that you will only use this sword for the good of the kingdom."

"I promise!" I blurt out.

Judging by his expression, I guess that he was not done speaking yet. My cheeks grow warm again.

"Sorry," I mumble, "you finish first."

Viego sighs and then resumes speaking.

"Kalista, please kneel and place your weapon before you."

Excitement tickles every limb on my body as I place the sword on the ground and kneel on one leg with my head lowered, just as I have seen knights do before the king.

"Kalista of Camavor," he says, trying his best to mimic grandfather's voice, "do you vow to pledge yourself heart and soul to the kingdom, to serve the crown faithfully, and dedicate your life to the protection of Camavor?"

"Wait, that's not how the knighting ceremony goes."

"That's not the words to the vow," I whisper.

"Well, I don't know the exact words," he hisses back in his normal, albeit more irritated, voice.

"I know how it's supposed to go."

"I'm not going to need to know them anyways," he says, "knighting people will be my brother's responsibility. Besides, what I am saying still sounds grand enough. So even though it's not exact, will you still accept the vow?"

"I will."

"Then answer me Kalista," the exaggerated kingly tone is back, "do you vow to pledge yourself heart and soul to the kingdom, to serve the crown faithfully, and dedicate your life to the protection of Camavor?"

"Even if he doesn't know the words to the vow, I can still answer it with the proper response."

"I, Kalista, do vow to serve my king and country faithfully, with grace and humility, with reverence for our past, a desire to forge our future, and the willingness to do what is necessary to preserve our present, from now until the moment of my death."

"I, prince Viego of Camavor, accept your vow."

He lowers his sword and touches it to each of my shoulders. Unlike the wooden one, the edge on this sword is real. Though he brings it less than a hand's width from my throat, I am not worried at all. I know he will not hurt me.

"Now rise, Kalista," he says with a flourish, "princess, warrior, and champion of Camavor."

I stand back up and hold the sword out before me. In my mind, I know the vow I said was just for play, something Viego did to make this gift more special, but in my heart, I know it is something more. I know those are words I will want to live by, words I hope I will be able to say when a king reads the vow correctly to me. And as I look at my uncle, I know in my soul that I will live by those words. I will protect my king and my country, from now until the moment of my death because I love them.