“What is going on here? Trainees are prohibited from fighting outside of approved bouts.”
Josselyn crept in behind him, forcing herself to lift her chin and straighten her shoulders as though she possessed all the confidence in the world. Her eyes fell on Alex where he stood, panting and bloodied, beside Henry McLeod, a large, muscular boy who was at least fifty pounds heavier than him. His eyes met hers, and he flushed, dropping his gaze to the toes of his boots.
“Grey, McLeod, either of you care to explain yourselves?” The general looked back and forth between the two boys, his face etched in stern disapproval. When neither one spoke up, he shook his head and pointed to the exit.
“You're both banned from training for a month. Now get out of my arena.”
McLeod stalked out first, and he stumbled a bit when he saw Josselyn standing just inside the doorway. A guilty flush crept up his neck and he bowed his head.
“Your Highness.”
She narrowed her eyes before dipping her own head in acknowledgment.
“McLeod.”
He swallowed and hurried out. Alex followed, studiously avoiding eye contact. As he passed her, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against his bare arm. He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the spot where her fingers rested on his skin. She pulled her hand back, her face heating at her own audacity.
“Thank you.”
Her voice came out in a whisper, and at first she wasn't sure if he'd even heard her, but after a brief pause, he replied, “It was nothing.”
He started to walk out but stopped at the last moment. He looked over his shoulder at her, his expression as serious as always.
“Kick their asses, Your Highness. Show them what a real swordsman looks like.”
With that, he was gone, and she was left staring after him, her heart beating a strange rhythm inside her chest.
Chapter Six
A knock at the door brought Josselyn back to the present, and she tucked the memory away, a reminder of her girlish infatuation of the boy who'd believed in her.
“Come in.”
The boy-turned-man himself entered the room, bowing his head in her direction before addressing her in the stiff, formal tones he had adopted when he became her personal guard.
“Prince Stefan awaits your presence in the gardens, if you still wish to accompany him?”
“Ugh, strolling the garden, that's right.” She sighed, her shoulders drooping at the thought of spending what remained of her afternoon with the arrogant prince. “I suppose I must.”
“If Your Highness isn't feeling up to it, I'm sure he'll understand.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You're sure, huh?”
“Of course. I'd be happy to go let him down for you, if you'd like.”
“I do believe that would make you happy, but as sorely tempted as I am to let you, I'd better not. If there's even a chance we can come to a peaceful arrangement with Antos, I have to try.”
Her eyes lit on the sideboard where her father kept a decanter of his favorite brandy. With a mischievous grin, she half-skipped, half-danced over to it. She picked up the decanter, pulling out the stopper and giving it a sniff, her nose wrinkling at the sharp scent. Grinning, she poured some of the amber liquid into a glass and turned to raise it in Alex's direction.
“For Eldour.”
“Have you ever had something that strong before, Your Highness?” Alex took a step in her direction, concern etched on his face.
She met his eyes, and her grin broadened even more as she lifted the glass to her lips.
“Nope.”
And with that, she tossed the drink back, the liqueur burning its way down her throat and bringing tears to her eyes. She sputtered and stamped her foot on the ground a few times, before straightening her shoulders and nodding in determination.
“I'm ready.”
Alex stared at her for a moment, his lips twitching as if fighting against a smile. He cleared his throat as he swept an arm toward the open door, standing to the side as she breezed past him, looking every inch the princess that she was.
She strode down the corridor to the the back entrance, which led out into the castle gardens, Alex following a few steps behind. Pushing open the doors, she saw Prince Stefan pacing back and forth between the azaleas, hands clasped behind his back. A hint of gold peeked out from between his fingers. At the sound of their footsteps, he looked up and a quick smile crossed his face, an expression that was at odds with the steely glint reflected in his eyes.
“Princess Josselyn, you're looking as lovely as ever this afternoon.”
“You're too kind.”
“Not at all, not at all.” He offered her his arm, the other hanging loosely by his side with a small, golden box clutched in his hand. “Shall we?”
Josselyn hesitated for a fraction of a second, before slipping her hand into the crook of his arm. It's just a stroll, not a lifelong commitment, and Alex will be here the entire time. Stop being such a ninny.
“The flowers are truly gorgeous this time of year. I sometimes think our gardener must be a magician.”
“Then the same magic must have been used at your birth, for your beauty makes these flowers look like mere weeds in comparison.”
Seriously? I think I might be sick.
“You must think me rather vain, Prince Stefan, with all of this flattery.”
“Not at all, princess. I cannot help but speak my mind when in your presence. You disarm me.”
“My apologies, then.”
He chuckled, glancing over his shoulder as he did so. “I see you have your loyal guard with you. Do you not have a lady's maid for such outings as this? I hardly think a bodyguard is necessary to uphold your honor.”
Josselyn looked back at Alex, who was trailing about ten feet behind them, his hand on the hilt of his
