Finnikin of the Rock

rails.

'Use more than the weapon to fight,' Trevanion ordered. 'Fight from the heart, lads.'

'Train your body to do the moving,' Perri shouted.

'Finnikin, too tight,' Moss said. 'Hold the sword like you'd want a woman holding your—'

Finnikin heard one of the men clearing his throat as he indicated toward the balcony with his head.

'Sorry, Evanjalin,' Moss said meekly, waving up to her.

She spent most days watching, not permitted to participate. Despite the resourcefulness she had displayed over the last few months, Sir Topher had ordered that she keep out of harm's way.

At times Finnikin felt Sir Topher treated her as if she were some prized possession and not just Evanjalin who could take care of herself. He had noticed that whenever she watched from the balcony, the aggression of the men intensified and the competition became more fierce, especially among the younger guards. Finnikin had received great satisfaction that morning beating Aldron of the River in front of her, catching him across the ears with the buckler. When the fourth serious injury of the day occurred, Trevanion intervened.

'Froi, go make yourself useful and tell Evanjalin that Sir Topher would like her to join him for a walk. A very long one.'

But she was back again that evening after the rest of the Guard had left. Finnikin felt her eyes on him and caught her look of displeasure. Exasperated, he finally dropped the practice sword in his hand and leaped up to the trellis, climbing his way toward the balcony, where she sat under the light of the moon. When he reached the railing, the sight of her robbed him of breath; her golden skin glowed in the pale light.

With his feet balanced on the trellis, he propped both arms on the timber rail. 'What?' he asked.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Beg all you like. Just tell me what the problem is.'

She stared at him and sighed. 'What do you want me to say, Finnikin? You are as good as them. Perhaps in time you will be the best fighter in Lumatere. But you are not meant to be in the King's Guard. You are meant to be in the king's court.'

He shook his head. 'You are wrong. When we were children, Balthazar always dreamed of the same future. He would be king and I would be captain of the Guard. Like our fathers before us.'

She looked at him sadly. She was only inches away from him, and he fought the urge to take her face in his hands.

'But that was a time when Balthazar thought he would live forever,' she said. 'Before they slayed his parents and sisters. When he still believed silver wolves and unicorns existed in the Forest of Lumatere and there was no difference between him and a peasant. But there was. Just like there is a difference between a great warrior and a great king's First Man. And your father is one, Finnikin, and you are the other.'

'You think I can't be a great warrior?' he asked.

'Today this courtyard was filled with great warriors. What is one more? But it was not filled with great men who have the heart to rule a kingdom. Any man can kill, Finnikin. It is a stroke, an action with one's hand. But not every man knows how to lead. For that you need what's here,' she said, pointing to his head, 'and what's here.' She laid a hand on his chest. He heard a door open below them.

'Finnikin!' Trevanion strode into the courtyard. 'Where are you? We're off to the bathhouse. Are you with us?'

Finnikin's gaze was locked on Evanjalin's.

'Are you with them?' she asked softly.

'Always.'

'Then go.' She sniffed dramatically. 'Leave me in my gilded cage.'

He grinned. 'You are just put out because we're treating you like a girl.'

'I am a girl. And if I am put out, it is because a bunch of men who don't care for keeping clean are afforded the luxury of a bathhouse, and those who crave it are stuck with ten layers of grime on their face.'

He reached out his hand and traced the backs of his fingers across her face. 'You lie. I can only feel eight.'

'Finnikin!' his father called again.

'Off you go, Little Finch,' she mocked. 'To the bathhouse, where you can all sit around and compare the skills and attributes of the warrior class.'

Finnikin watched Aldron of the River strut around the bathhouse before making himself comfortable next to Trevanion. The young guard reminded Finnikin too much of Lucian. Unlike Finnikin's pale, lean frame, Aldron had the coloring of the River people and had lost his leanness years before. Finnikin tried hard not to compare himself with any of the Guard in their nakedness.

'I hear we are to split up to travel to Lumatere, Captain Trevanion,' Aldron said.

Trevanion nodded. 'We have exiles to collect from other kingdoms,' he explained. 'I will speak of it tonight.'

'And, of course, Aldron will be the first to volunteer to escort our younger visitors,' one of the older guards joked.

Finnikin turned to Aldron. 'Evanjalin and the boy travel with me,' he said coldly. 'It's best to keep things simple.'

'Simplicity would have you traveling with Perri and Moss, and a few of the older men who can teach you a thing or two about defense, Finnikin,' Aldron said.

'It takes great character to handle Evanjalin and Froi,' Finnikin went on. 'You would have much to fear.'

'What is the worst that can happen?' Aldron scoffed.

'She could have you imprisoned in the mines. Or sell you to the slave traders of Sorel,' Finnikin said with a shrug.

'You are trying to scare me off. Does she belong to you, Finnikin? If she does, say the word and I will bite my tongue and look the other way.'

The men turned toward Finnikin, waiting for a response.

Did Evanjalin belong to him? No, he wanted to say, she belonged to their future king, his boyhood companion whom he had loved like a brother. But there were moments, as he lay beside her deep in the night, when he hated beloved Balthazar. When he wished to covet it all.

'I think you need to find yourselves wives,' Finnikin said.

The men chuckled.

'Well, here is our dilemma,' Moss began. 'There are those who refuse to betray their bonding vows and consider themselves still joined to their women in Lumatere, and those who are free to come and go as they please. Except the first rule of Pietrodore is that their young women are off-limits.'

'Tomas and I are bonded to each other,' Bosco said from a lower step.

'Which we are forced to be reminded of each night.'

'While the rest of us go with nothing,' Aldron sulked.

'You're most welcome to join us any time, Aldron,' Tomas joked.

The others laughed.

'Anyway, each month we enjoy a day or two in Bilson,' Moss said with a grin. His face instantly reddened when he found Sir Topher's gaze on him.

'And what is it you do there, Moss?' Sir Topher asked politely.

Finnikin exchanged a look with his mentor, who was trying to hide a smile.

'Ah, of course,' Sir Topher said, as if a thought had just occurred to him. 'With such diverse places of worship and the tastiest delicacies, it would be hard to keep away.'

'Not to mention the reading rooms,' Finnikin said, catching Sir Topher's grin. 'I once spent a whole week there reading about the sixth-century fighting techniques of the Leticians. I can understand what drew you to the town, Moss.'

Aldron snorted. 'What an exciting life you lead, Finnikin.'

'Thank you, Aldron. I do enjoy the philosophical discussions I have with Evanjalin. Reading and languages are her passion. Yours?'

'Oh yes, Aldron and Moss are great readers,' Perri said dryly. 'And as for languages, I do believe they know