“Your enemy will not hesitate, so you must not either. Anticipate their moves and you cannot lose.”


    Jaxon marches around, hands clasped behind his back, as a dozen teenagers, pair off in sets of two, practice with blunted blades. Their movements are clumsy and ragged. Exhausted. The training grounds are adjacent to the castle and I get a clear view from my window. So this morning when I noticed Jaxon commanding a troop of sixteen-year-olds, I came down from my room to investigate.


    I watch in mild interest as he barks out corrections to form or effort while I nurse my small mug of coffee. I found the hidden stash this morning and nearly giggled with glee. My caffeine addiction was second to none before this world forced me to go cold turkey. Something about it calms me. And after last night, I need it.


    My racing mind stole my sleep. I’m running out of time to meet up with Eli. What if things go wrong and Thomas can’t get me out in time? Will Eli leave, thinking I chose to live in the city with my brother rather than return to him?


    I jump as a hand appears on my shoulder but a familiar blond beard calms my tense nerves.


    “He usually gets them started before sunrise,” Ivan says.


    “Explains why they look like half-dead, abused puppies.”


    That earns a laugh. I smile in turn.


    “Well then, let’s give them a break.”


    Ivan picks a sword from the lineup of blunted steel, weighing it in his hand for a moment before approaching the group. The kids stop, the tips of their blades dipping into the grassy earth as they stare at my brother.


    Jaxon’s lip quirks in a smile as he meets Ivan in the middle of the group. The boys form a ring around the two older men like ants around a drop of sugar water.


    Ivan drives his sword into the ground and removes his shirt. Several moments pass as Ivan says something and Jaxon’s gaze flickers to me and then back to Ivan. I narrow my eyes at my brother’s back and whatever that devious imp is saying. Eventually, Jaxon rips off his shirt and I duck my gaze away, shaking my head slightly and suppressing a smirk as I sip my bitter coffee. My brother is anything but subtle.


    The two men are something else. If it weren’t for Eli’s lessons, I would be entirely impressed—and lost—as they move this way and that, ducking and swinging. They work up a sweat going at each other, fighting similar to how Eli showed me most men fight, at least the ones who know what they’re doing. I can see why Eli created the technique he did. It takes advantage of common moves and interrupts the rhythm, taking control of the fight in a way that would leave your opponent dazed and confused. And then dead.


    I set my coffee aside and walk up as they finish.


    “Impressive. I only counted two mistakes for you Vanny, and one for Jaxon.”


    Ivan’s brows leap up as he pants, arms stretched out as he leans on his sword, “What’s this? When did my sister become an expert in swordsmanship?”


    “Guess there’s still a lot you don’t know about me,” I tease behind a smirk.


    “She is right, you know.” Jaxon nods at Ivan. “You could have gotten me at the start had you been a little quicker.”


    “Is it all talk? Or can you swing a sword, sister?” Ivan’s eyes spark mischievously. “Here, spar with Jaxon.”


    I open my mouth to refuse, but his sword is already flying through the air at me. I catch it easily enough and marvel at the feel of a blade in my hands again. It’s bigger than I’m used to but still, the muscles in my arm, shoulder, and back flex in a familiar grip.


    It dips in my hand. “I really can’t. I just picked up a few things; I’m nothing near your level.”


    “Nonsense. No one expects you to beat Jaxon.”


    “How about a handicap? I’ll keep one hand behind me and cannot move from this spot,” Jaxon offers and I cut him a sour look, surprised he’s going along with this. Surely he sees what Ivan is up to.


    I glance around, looking for something—someone to rescue me. But all I find are curious, eager eyes from the boys surrounding us and Ivan’s irksome dare of a smile.


    I curse my big mouth and finally relent. “Give me your dagger and you can keep your handicap.”


    A delighted laugh escapes Ivan’s lips. “That’s the sister I know.”


    Jaxon’s eyes widen a hair and he offers me the dagger on his waist. I take it, getting a feel of the two weapons in my hands. Wow. This dagger is nice.


    “Look out Jaxon, I think my sister’s considering stealing your blade.”


    I roll my eyes. “I’m sure I don’t need to. I can just steal yours, brother.” I eye the matching blade at his hip.


    “Might be easier that way considering Jaxon never takes his off.”


    My eyes go round in mock surprise, “Not even to bed? Jaxon, isn’t that a bit…uncomfortable?”


    Jaxon heaves a sigh, suppressing an eye roll powerful enough to alter the Earth’s rotation. “I am quite used to uncomfortable things, Miss Volkov.”


    “Hm.” I turn suspicious eyes toward Ivan. Kind of like this sparring match. “I wonder why.”


    Ivan’s Cheshire grin holds more excitement than I think is normal for any human. This man really needs more drama in his life if scheming to marry me off brings him this much delight.


    I stop before Jaxon and take in my opponent. His stance. The way he holds his sword. The easy look with which he regards me. I have the advantage of knowing how he moves which is half the battle according to Eli.


    You must know what they will do before they know themselves.


    Eli’s words ring in my mind and I take a calming breath, turn my body, and level the sword. Jaxon’s chest rises and falls after his little showoff with Ivan and I plan to take full advantage of the man’s exhaustion.


    We circle for a while, each testing the waters. His movements are quick and I sense him measuring my skill level. His size, strength, and experience put me at a disadvantage but I have a secret. Eli. My teacher is better. He’s the best. And he taught me how to win when I am outmatched. A fencer’s strength is their ability to control distance—a samurai’s is movement. Eli’s technique uses both and a dozen others, all while evading the opponent’s strike, slash, and stab with beauty and grace.


    Notice the feet. The shift of weight will tell you their intent.


    My attacks can’t compare with Jaxon’s powerful swings but they don’t need to. He’s tired and if there’s one thing I can do, it’s evade. I graduated top of my class in the dodge, duck, sidestep, and roll—nevermind it was a class of one. I often wondered how much Eli held back in our training and here, with Jaxon, my excitement steadily grows alongside my heart rate.


    Jaxon stops after an embarrassing number of failed attempts to at least touch swords with me. A huff of frustration as sweat trickles down his forehead. I bite my lip to keep a grin inside.


    “Maybe I should stand back here and catch my breath. Unless you want to try for the offensive?” Jaxon baits.


    Until now I’ve played off my strengths and his exhaustion—his willingness to attack—making myself look better than I am. In a fairer fight, he would mop the floor with me. But even still, the silence around us gratifies something deep in my soul. I can only imagine my brother’s look of astonishment somewhere at my back. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    I implement the technique Eli showed me a million times, attacking with my sword and lunging with the dagger with the intent to draw Jaxon’s defenses out. And it works. I get in close enough to worry him and nearly get clipped in the process. But when I step back, he follows. He strikes. I block the blow with my sword then duck and roll, sliding up beside him. Before he can blink my dagger is pressed against his side.


    I won.


    I wheeze a victorious laugh and straighten, taking a wobbly step back. With satisfaction swelling in my chest, I drink in Jaxon’s look of utter shock. This feeling of pleasure must be the kind of thing addicts destroy their lives over. It’s marvelous.


    I turn to Ivan and my pride fizzles out like a candle’s flame at the end of its wick. He stands, pale-faced and fragile, like the slightest breeze might topple him. As if he’s staring at a ghost.


    “Vanny?”


    I blink and it’s gone. But his chest rises and falls too quickly. The tenseness in his jaw draws me forward, but his words hold me back.


    “Who taught you to fight that way?”


    I made a horrible mistake. I see it now. Now—when it’s too late. The question is not a question, but a realization spoken aloud. He knows.


    Sudden regret swings for my stomach like a bat. My fingertips turn to ice as my breaths turn faint. I never should have agreed to this. Or at the very least I should have kept Eli’s lessons to myself. Instead, I put it all on display. Flaunted it. Might as well have shouted his name from the rooftops.


    My silence must speak volumes because Ivan spins on his heels leaving me dumbstruck and stunned. Cracks of unease shine through Jaxon’s usual shroud of indifference but he turns to his audience and whips them back into task, paying me no mind.


    “Vanny.” I drop the sword and dagger, jogging after him but he doesn’t slow. “Ivan!”


    He storms through the training gates and I run to catch up with his long strides.


    I reach out, grabbing his arm. “What’s wrong with you?” I nearly shout.


    The anger flaring in his eyes hits me hard. I stagger back a step, withdrawing my hand as though I just touched a hot stove rather than my brother.


    “Who was it that taught you to fight like that?”


    The question is now a warning. A test. To see how I respond. Perhaps to see if I lie.


    I level my gaze to meet his. “Why does it matter?”


    His brows shoot up. “If it didn’t matter, then you would tell me.”


    “Would I? How do you expect me to trust you when you act like this.”


    We standoff, like a frothy ocean wave crashing against a cliffside. Nothing but unblinking and unbroken stares between us. I may love my brother, but I don’t trust the hatred inside him.


    Ivan gives up. On me or the argument, I cannot tell which but one moment he is before me, and the next I am staring at his back as it shrinks in the distance.


    A thought strikes me like a punch to the gut, taking my breath with it. You’re going to fail. Ivan will never accept Eli. His hatred runs too deep and even I cannot pull him from it.


    The tempest in my chest rips me open so unexpectedly that I find myself crumbled on the ground. Short tufts of grass press against my palms as my fingers slowly sink into the earth. The scent of soil fills my mind, mixing with the sweat from my skin. I hear small, sickly-sounding gasps rasping into the cold morning air and realize they are coming from my own throat. The sky crowds against me, squeezing the blood from my heart until it turns to dust. I close my eyes and try to focus on taking slow, deep breaths. At that moment something lightly rests against my back. I ignore it, but a voice joins it.


    “Miss Volkov, are you okay?”


    Not him. I can’t do this right now. My walls are shattered, leaving me defenseless against that sharp gaze always drilling for answers or those keen questions waiting to trap me. I pull away, lurching to my feet, and begin to run.


    “Miss Volkov!”


    I keep running. Something about the pumping of my legs, the smack of my feet against the cobblestone, and the air filling my lungs shoves the sky back into its place. It yanks me from that suffocating world behind me and sets me free.


    I stop with the city gates in sight, chest heaving and muscles twitching. Past the gates and wide open fields of green, thick forest beacons. I imagine Eli standing behind a tree somewhere right out of sight. A line of men trails back several yards as the guards stop people one by one before they leave. A checkpoint before people enter the city I understand but this hardens my jaw.


    Ignoring the unwanted stares and slowed steps, I duck behind a building and pull my hood up, tucking my hair away. Out of sight, out of mind, I suppose, because soon my presence is forgotten and I take a deep breath, stepping in line. The moment the guards see my face I will undoubtedly be barred from leaving. But I need to try. Need to see it for myself how far Ivan has gone to keep me here.


    “Rumor has it they’re checking for the last man responsible for nearly killing the commander’s sister.”


    My ear perks up at the conversation ahead.


    “I heard they raped her and that’s the reason for all the extra security,” a bald man with a long red beard pipes up. “They say the Commander beat them senseless before the execution.”


    “It’s true, I saw their faces beforehand. Barely even faces,” a third, younger man confirms. “But I heard it’s the girl they’re trying to keep in the city. She’s trying to escape.”


    “Escape?” The bald one laughs, “doesn’t she know what it’s like out there? If she wants out I’ll be more than happy to show her a good time on the other side of the city walls.”


    A few in the group chuckle, but get cut short by a much older man. “Watch it. That’s the commander’s sister you’re talking about. The man deserves more respect than that. Besides, we’re not animals, we’re men. New Haven men. I know you’re still new to the city, but around here, that means something.”


    A few grunts of agreement and the bald man keeps his mouth shut after that. The conversation turns to muted subjects and I tune them out, keeping my gaze down as I hide behind my hood. In all my trips around the city with Jaxon, whenever the topic of the Commander came up, I rarely found dissenters. That’s not to say a critical eye is never turned in Ivan’s direction but respect and admiration runs deep in the hearts of the men who live here.


    The line inches forward and I’ve nearly reached the front when the men ahead give startled glances my way. But they aren’t looking at me. Something looms behind me.


    “Captain! What can we do for you?”


    My heart drops to the pit of my stomach and I freeze, staring at my dusty shoes.


    “Nothing, gentlemen. I am here for the commander’s sister.”


    Multiple pairs of eyes, round in alarm and confusion now fall upon me. I lift my face and turn to go, seeking escape from the weight of this sudden attention.


    “What is the matter, Miss Volkov? I thought you were in line to leave?”


    The uncharacteristic snip in Jaxon’s tone gives me pause. He’s mad at me? I resist a scoff as his attitude roots out some of my own.


    I turn to him as stubbornness swells my chest and fuels my words. “You’re right, I was. But why should the King’s sister wait in line, hm? Let’s cut to the chase and see how this goes.”


    I lower the hood from my head and step past stunned faces until I stand before the guard. He looks dazed but then his spine straightens as a shadow crawls over me from behind. His nervous eyes flitter between me and the space over my shoulder.


    “I-I’m sorry Miss. Our orders say you are not to leave the city without expressed permission from the Commander.”


    I cut Jaxon a narrow look, “shocking.”


    Swift steps powered by irritation carry me away, but it seems Jaxon is not satisfied with my defeat and follows closely behind.


    “Did you ever consider what would happen the moment you step beyond these city walls?” His voice comes out sharp. Rebuking. “Your secret is no longer a secret. Men here know what you are. Here, they must respect our laws, but out there? There is no law out there.”


    His brows raise, daring me to disagree, and I stop. Anger and frustration bleed through so plainly in those copper eyes that all I can do is stare in astonishment. The man who guards every emotion stands before me, so plain, so open. Maybe this is some elaborate trap in which to trick me but if this is him acting, then the man deserves an Oscar. Too bad those aren’t a thing anymore.


    “You may be willing to make bets with your life, but don’t ask those who care for you to do the same,” he says.


    I narrow my eyes at him, “you say it’s my life, but is it really? Someone I trust told me that if I was discovered as a woman in this city, I would not be held hostage.”


    “I think you know this has far more to do with who you are rather than what you are.”


    I grind my teeth and glower at the man, but only because he is right. Mostly. Even if I were a man, my brother would still insist I stay within the safety of his walls. As much as I hate to admit it, Jaxon is right, at least in part. Ivan lost everyone he loved and now a piece of his dead family comes back to him. Add to that the fact my little brother is now nearly ten years my elder and knows it.


    “He should trust me enough to let me go.”


    “It is clear neither of you are the people each remembers. Trust must be rebuilt over time.”


    But Eli cannot wait that long. Or maybe I can’t wait that long. I bite my tongue but as I do, suspicion flashes in Jaxon’s face before he yanks it behind doors of neutrality.


    “Tell Ivan I’m going on a trip outside the city.” I give a sarcastic smile, “with my escort, of course.”


    “I’ll pass the request along.”


    I cut him a bitter look, “I want my weapons back.”


    “I’ll have them sent over.”


    “Today.”


    “Within the hour.”


    I spin on my heel and clench my jaw as I stalk back to the castle.