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I leveled the sword on the prone body as I reached up and tugged the blindfold down. “Was that a sufficient response?”
Sir Braylon Holland was sprawled across the stone floor of the west tower. “Quite.”
I smirked, tossing the thick braid of hair over my shoulder.
Groaning under his breath, Sir Holland rolled to his feet. Born at least two decades before me, he appeared much younger since there wasn’t a single crease in his deep brown skin. I’d once heard him tell one of his guards who’d asked if he’d summoned a god in exchange for everlasting youth, that his secret was to drink a fifth of whiskey each night.
Pretty sure he’d be dead if he drank that much.
“But your aim is lacking,” he said, dusting off his black breeches. Absent of the obnoxious gold and plum uniform of the Royal Guard, he looked like any other guard. I’d never seen him in the finery. “And in need of much improvement.”
Frowning, I turned to where the dummy was propped against the wall. The sad thing had seen better days. Cotton and straw leaked from numerous stab wounds. Its linen shirt had been replaced many times over the years. I’d stolen this one from Tavius’s room, and it hung in shreds from wooden shoulders. The burlap head, stuffed with more straw and rags, flopped sadly to one side.
Sunlight streamed in from the narrow window, glinting off the handle of the iron dagger protruding from the dummy’s chest. “How is my aim off?” I demanded, wiping a hand across my sweat-slick brow. The summer…it was steadily becoming unbearable. Last week, an elderly couple had been found in their tiny apartment in Croft’s Cross, dead from heatstroke. They weren’t the first, and I feared they wouldn’t be the last. “You said to aim for the chest. I hit the chest.”
“I told you to aim for the heart. Are hearts typically on the right side of the body, Sera?”
My lips pursed. “Do we really think someone would survive taking a blade to either side of the chest? Because I can tell you that, no, they would not.”
The look he shot me could only be described as unimpressed as he took the sword from my hand and started for the dummy. It was a look I was unfortunately quite accustomed to.
He gripped the dagger and pulled it free. “They wouldn’t recover from such a wound, but it wouldn’t be a quick death nor an honorable one, and it would bring dishonor to you.”
“Why should I care about giving an honorable death to someone who just tried to kill me?” I asked, thinking that was an incredibly valid question.
“Several reasons, Sera. Do I need to list them for you?”
“No.”
“Too bad. I like hearing myself list things,” he replied, and I groaned. “You, my dear, live a dangerous life.”
“Not by choice,” I muttered under my breath.
One eyebrow rose sardonically. “You are not protected like Princess Ezmeria,” he stated as he crossed to the wall opposite the small window, where numerous weapons were stored. He placed the sword next to heavier, longer ones. “No Royal Guards are assigned to watch over your chambers or keep an eye on you as you run wild throughout the capital.”
“I do not run wild throughout the capital.”
The look he sent me this time said that he knew better. “Many of the people may not realize who you are,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t some out there who have heard rumors of your existence and have figured out that you are no handmaiden but carry the Mierel blood in your veins,” he continued. “All it takes is for one of them to tell someone who thinks they can use you as a means to achieve what they want.”
My jaw clenched. There had been two in the past three years that’d somehow learned that I was, in fact, a Princess and attempted to kidnap me. That hadn’t worked out well for them, but their blood wasn’t on my hands.
It was on Tavius’s, who I strongly believed had been behind the rumor.
“Not only that, it’s only a matter of time before the Vodina Isles Crown learns of their Lords. They will attempt a siege.” He faced me. “You will just be another body they cut through to get to the Crown.”
I was already just another body around here. One that was mostly ignored. But whatever…
“And then there is the heir,” Sir Holland stated flatly. “Who is still extremely angry over what happened in the stables last week.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still upset with him for whipping that horse because of his foolishness and lack of skill,” I retorted. “Every time I see him, I want to punch him again.”
“While his behavior towards that animal was abominable, blackening the Heir of Lasania’s eye and then threatening to use the whip in the same manner as he did was not the wisest choice.”
