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A spark of life returned to her eyes, and she fixed him with a skeptical look. “Among other things, I’m sure.”
He winked as she took his hand and rose. “I’m more than just a pretty face, my lady.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
The Liar
“All teasing aside, you show promise,” Auberon said as he moved the mannequin to the edge of the stage, out of the way. When he returned to Riona, he gestured for her to lift the prop sword and corrected her grip. “You’re a skilled dancer—you have control over your body and you’re aware of the space around you. Use that to your advantage.” He stepped to her side and nudged her foot with his until she shifted, moving her weight to the balls of her feet. “You’re tall, but most of your opponents will be larger and stronger than you. So use your grace and speed against them. Let them tire themselves out with brute force, then strike.”
Riona laughed softly. “You make it sound so simple.”
Auberon reached over to correct her grip on the sword again. “Eventually, your body takes over, and you don’t have to think. Same with a dance. You adapt and learn.”
“Or you die.”
“Which is what I’m trying to help you avoid. If you end up in Erduria with Drystan—or in Kenter with your darling, selfless Valerian—you will face many enemies simply because of the man you marry.”
She raised a brow at him over her shoulder. “You’remy enemy, Your Highness.”
“Yes, but I’ve had the very unfortunate experience of having been charmed by you,” Auberon responded, his voice sickly sweet. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I would very much hate to see you dead.”
“I believe that’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it. Your stance is absolutely dreadful.” He pushed her foot back to where he had placed it before, then stepped back and crossed his arms. “Forget what I said about your dancer’s instincts. I’ll need a miracle to turn you into a proper warrior.”
That familiar flash of annoyance returned to her face. “I may surprise you yet.”
He grinned. “My lady, I don’t doubt it.”
Auberon walked her through the proper stance one more time, then demonstrated a few simple drills—blocking, slashing, stabbing, disarming an opponent. A little furrow of concentration formed between her brows as she followed him through the movements. Without music, without anyone else around, the theater was as silent as a tomb. The only sounds came from the soft scuff of Riona’s boots and the whistle of her blade through the air.
After an hour, Auberon caught her arm, stilling her. “Now try to strike me.”
“Already? I hardly know what I’m doing!”
“Better than fighting a wooden dummy.” He nodded to the mannequin as he retrieved a prop sword from backstage. His lungs still ached from the poison, but the pain was easing every day. “You should practice fighting an opponent who can react to your attacks. Your enemies aren’t going to stand still and wait for you to kill them.”
“Willyoustand still and let me try?”
He chuckled at her irritated tone. “I think,aramati, that you have forgotten I am doing you a favor by teaching you. Would you rather I take you to the Erdurian court and throw you to the wolves?”
“If they’re anything like you, they’re all bark and no bite. Give me a couple days, and I’d have them eating out of my hand.”
Auberon shot her a knowing look. “Tell me, how did that confidence help you while you were awaiting execution in Beltharos just a few short weeks ago? For all your courtly manners and lovely smiles, you still ended up a prisoner. Your head would have been staked to the city gate alongside all the others if not for the arrival of King Tamriel’s army. Men with swords. That’s what saved your life. Not the court maneuvering you so love.”
Riona glared at him. “I do not love it.”
“Lie to yourself, but not to me. That little display of charity with Duke Valerian earlier today? Oh, yes, I heard about it, and I have no doubt the rest of the city did, as well. Just as you intended,” Auberon said, stalking forward. She lifted her chin and held his gaze, her grip tightening on the sword. “You don’t care about the people. You care about the way your little act makes you look, and the way it’s going to affect Valerian’s standing in the negotiations.”
“Say what you will about me,” Riona responded, her voice quiet and cold, “but don’t believe for one second that I would not give anything for my people.”
“Yet you will dance and drink and charm the court while our people fight for their lives on the Tranquil Sea. You will pull your little strings and pit Eamon and Valerian against each other, all while knowing that your inaction sends more innocent people to their graves. So who are you really doing this for: your people, or yourself?”
That was enough. Riona lunged, slashing low. Auberon lifted his sword and knocked the blow aside with ease. She huffed and tried again, fury twisting her features. He blocked. The third time, she feinted right, then twisted past him and aimed at the back of his thigh. He turned and caught her blade with his own before it could make contact.
“I detest you,” she snarled, retreating and falling into the stance he had shown her.
“Apparently, as you haven’t yet convinced your uncle to accept my brother’s offer and end the bloodshed between our countries. How many more people will you allow to die, just so you don’t have to marry Drystan?”
