Lance

As much as her brother tried to dissuade him, Prince William never forgot the little girl in her brothers’ cast off training clothes.

He worked twice as hard to best the Duke of Aldarius’s two sons in daily training, hoping to again get to practice with their sister.

All to no avail.

If they wouldn’t let her cross swords with him, perhaps she could be his dance instructor. He was awful, but with footwork like hers, he was certain she could train him.

He smiled. Maybe dancing wouldn’t be so awful.

After several days, Prince William still had not seen Lady Onyx practicing. Finally, he asked her brother, “Where is Lady Onyx? I had hoped for her to teach me more.”

“She has returned to the family estate with our mother.”

Prince William frowned.

“Please forgive her impertinence. She is young and trying to prove herself.”

“With two such brothers as she has, I understand her need. All is forgiven, though I would like to practice with her again.”

Sir Godfrey merely bowed to him.

“Godfrey,” Onyx started.

Cold angered snapped around the knight. “That is His Highness Prince William.”

Onyx’s eyes widened and her mouth opened but no words came out.

William dusted himself off. “It’s quite all right. I asked you to spar with me, and you taught me quite a lot. I hope you will train with me again.”

Sir Godfrey bowed to William as he gripped his sister’s shoulder and guided her out of the training room.

As she stepped back and offered him her hand, a voice cut through the training room. “Onyx Mercedes Aldarius!”

The girl froze.

William pushed himself back to his feet as Sir Godfrey, the Duke of Aldarius’s oldest son and one of Prince William’s personal knights, stormed into the room. William stared at the girl, then the knight, and realization swamped the prince.

He was sparring partner was duke Aldarius’s youngest child and only daughter.

 

 

Despite giving it everything he had, Prince William found himself flat on his back on the training room floor, the girl’s wooden sword pressed against his chest.

His eyes were wide as he stared into eyes bluer than a winter sky and a face just as coldly intense. “I concede,” he said. “This round is yours.”

She nodded once.

“How did you beat me so easily?”

“You rely on your strength and size. I used it against you.”

“Can you teach me that?”

“No.”

He looked away.

“You have strength and size. You must learn to use that.”

 

Prince William was less skilled with swords than he was with lances, but he still selected a sword.

“Choose a lance. I want it to be a fair fight.”

“But I am taller, with longer reach-”

“So are those I will face on the battlefield. Take the lance.”

He set aside his misgivings. He’d beat her with the lance first, then practice his sword work with her.