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“So I can’t go there?” The look she gave me was as if I’d given her an unacceptable boundary. It almost made me laugh.
“No, princess. You can’t.” It wouldn’t have been hard to get her access. I only needed to ask Cyrus and, as the keeper of the castle, he could’ve given her immediate permission. But I enjoyed seeing her riled up like this.
She tore her wrist from my clutch and gazed longingly up the staircase. When she turned back to me, I couldn’t miss the rage in her eyes. It was a good thing she wasn’t a fire wielder. She might’ve set the whole place up in flames with that glare.
“Don’t you have enough books to keep you busy for a while?” I asked, attempting to appease her. We still had more of the tour to go and I was tired of the library.
“I suppose so.” She sighed, but followed as I led the way back to the first level. I made a brief stop to talk to the librarian, arranging for Emilie’s stack of books to be sent back to her room.
Our next stop was the northern wing of the castle. While the southern wing contained the massive mazes of gardens and the pathway to the city, the northern exterior consisted entirely of our training grounds.
Racks of equipment, archery targets, and sparring dummies were scattered across the large barren field of dirt. This late in the morning, the field was already full of soldiers-in-training. We stopped along the exterior wall and sat on the bleachers overlooking the field.
“Is this where you spend most of your time?” she asked.
I gave a noncommittal grunt and noticed her frown from the corner of my eye. I’d told my brother I’d give her a tour. I’d never said I’d make small talk.
I sensed that she was just as entertained by the sparring as she was with the library. Chancing a look in her direction, I found that she wasn’t even blinking. The sound of swords clashing made her jump and inhale sharply. There were two warriors training with metal swords. Normally, we practiced with wooden ones, but as they advanced through training, we switched to swords of steel so they could get a feel for the weight and balance of the weapons they’d be using in proper battle.
Emilie smiled as one warrior outsmarted the other, bending to dodge a strike and then tapping the dull edge of their sword against the other warrior’s back. A swift kick to the back and the second warrior fell to the ground. Without a moment’s hesitation, the first warrior pulled up on the other’s neck, blade pressed to their throat, and the warrior tapped out.
It was a matchup I’d seen a million times before, but Emilie was hanging on every movement. Then she nearly jumped out of her seat. She smacked my arm with untamed excitement and interrupted my own trance of watching her reactions.
“What did I say about touching—”
“You let women fight?” She turned to me and the eagerness in her expression made me forget about my promise to break her fingers. I looked back at the field and sure enough, the winning warrior removed her helmet and leaned over to help her partner off the ground, patting him on the back in consolation.
He smiled, and I could read his lips as he offered his congratulations.
“Yes, our armies are made of women and men. Of course, we have to let them train, which includes sparring.”
I knew the armies in Dreslen excluded women. I’d hardly call them armies, though. They had a handful of guards for the royal family and some soldiers available for personal hire, but as far as I knew, their army was nothing compared to Osavian’s. It hadn’t occurred to me they wouldn’t even allow women to train.
“Have you never…”
She shook her head and frowned again.
“That’s a shame. You should know how to protect yourself, even if you aren’t on the front lines.”
We sat a while longer and watched a few more matchups. A mix of women and men met in the center of the field, and every time I noticed Emilie rooting for the women.
I couldn’t help but grin. The training ground was my favorite place in Renoa, too. I quickly wiped the smile off my face, though. Just because we shared something in common didn’t mean I approved of Emilie. Or her conniving family. She didn’t belong here.
“Are you ready to move on?”
She looked disappointed, but stood to leave anyway.
Most of the other rooms were boring compared to the library and the training field. The only rooms worth noting were the Hall of Heroes—a room dedicated to all the kings of the past—and an art gallery. Emilie took her time studying each of the paintings while I followed a few steps behind.
“I think this one is my favorite,” she said, and I crossed the room to stand beside her. It was a dark painting. Mostly black with waves of blue and violet. It was impossible to tell what it was supposed to be.
“Why?”
“It makes me feel something.”
I crossed my arms and stared at the painting, trying to see what she saw. I still remembered that deadly winter day over five years ago. My father had gone out to sea with a naval force. It was supposed to be a drill…a routine exercise. It shouldn’t have been dangerous. But the blue skies had quickly turned black and none of the ships in that fleet returned. That had been the last day I’d seen my father.
A mind healer had said a creative outlet like painting would help me work through my feelings. It was hard to tell if it actually helped or if time just healed the wounds, but I hadn’t painted in years. I didn’t know who decided to hang my painting in the gallery.
