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I shook my head as I glanced at Kelyn’s portrait again. A tickling in my stomach made me smile, and a flush of heat raced into my face. If anything, my light glowed brighter as I thought about Kelyn. Romance. I almost giggled. This is not romance. This is silly girl feelings.
I squared my shoulders. Kelyn wasn’t in the great hall. He was busy with princely affairs. The hall was safe, and the sweating men would clear the confusion in my head. Battle had a way of focusing me.
I paused with my hand on the doorframe. The ladies steered clear of the area when the men engaged each other. Was it a forbidden thing for the ladies to watch the men? Was it deemed inappropriate? Men and women trained together in Gorlassar. That didn’t seem to be the case in Talfryn. Would they run me out of the room? I supposed I wouldn’t be permitted to spar with them either.
My face fell. A few men whirled staffs. Others scraped swords against each other. Intriguing. Emrys rarely used weapons. I fought with my light as an extension of my physical self. Weapons were a cumbersome burden.
Forget what everyone else thought. I didn’t care. I was bold anyway.
I entered the great hall.
TWENTY-TWO
“How did I let you talk me into this?” I glared at two dozen men surrounding me in the hall. Kelyn stood at my right, with Kenrik at his side. “This is your fault, Kenrik.”
He held his hands up. “I told Kelyn nothing, as promised.”
The other day, I simply told Kenrik he’d have more force behind his punch if he changed his footing. He waved me over to show him how, and I complied. As I thought about it, I realized the sweaty debacle was my fault because I had wandered down to the hall, again, bored to tears after two days of rain.
Bored after watching the men while I hovered near the wall. I was hesitant to join them, but at least they didn’t chase me out of the room.
Kenrik spent every spare moment catching my eye until I sparred with him. He didn’t think my fighting was unsuitable, and I was glad.
Everyone wanted a round with me after learning of my skill. So the punching session with Kenrik turned into me dropping a six-foot-tall guard to his knees right as Kelyn strolled in.
“Niawen!” Kelyn exclaimed.
I whirled around. “Your Highness!”
“I’ve come to fetch Kenrik to council, and here you are crippling my best guard.” He laughed. “You are full of surprises. Indulge me; show me that maneuver.”
“Later, Kelyn,” Kenrik said. “We shouldn’t keep the council waiting.” He was trying to save me.
Kelyn held his hand up. “No. Show me now. This might be the answer I’m seeking.”
Kenrik questioned Kelyn with his eyes. I moved into position as a guard approached me. With bare hands, I struck him. He blocked. I could tell he wasn’t used to fighting without a weapon.
After a few passes, the guard crashed to the floor. I was too nimble for him.
“Again.” Kelyn ordered.
I engaged another man.
After I defeated five men, Kelyn interrupted me. “Niawen, Kenrik, come with me.”
He strode out of the room after turning on his heel.
In council, King Sieffre and Kelyn were devising a plan to stop the looting in the north from a local rabble that had become more than a nuisance. Their leader wanted control of Lord Mathonwy’s northwestern province, which consisted of half a dozen towns and the farmlands between them.
Kelyn maintained that his father should send a unit of special soldiers to seek the rabble’s haunts in the Alwyn Foothills. After quizzing me on my numerous skills, which included tracking, hunting, and stealth, among other talents, Kelyn brimmed with the idea of me training his men.
Kenrik couldn’t hide his amused expression while Kelyn gabbed. Kenrik was thrilled that for once he knew something Kelyn didn’t—that Kenrik had been sparring with me for days before Kelyn knew.
As I thought about his face when he walked in and saw me fighting, I almost laughed. I casually brought my hand to my mouth and forced my lips into a straight line. Kenrik noticed, and his eyes widened as if he was trying to send a mental message.
I think it said, “That’s one point for me.”
Yes, most definitely. Brotherly competition.
