Cheerful birdsong woke Myra the following morning. The tweeting birds did not reflect her mood as she dragged herself out of bed, through her dressing room, and into the dining hall for breakfast. Since her parents still refused to share the schedule of events with her, she was left to wonder what new torture they had in store for the day. Thankfully, she had eliminated half of the potential suitors during yesterday’s presentations. Although, she saw they were all still hanging around for the show.

Her father stood and cleared his throat. “Today’s event is something that we hope everyone will enjoy. It’s a team battle simulation we call ‘capture the flag’.”

She perked up, heart —and mood— lightening.

“There will be five teams of five. The team that has the most flags in their possession at sundown will be the winner.” He looked at his daughter. “Myra, will you join the competitors?”

She grinned. “You know I never miss capture the flag.”

“Wonderful! The competition area has been prepared and the teams are posted in the hall outside. You have half an hour to gather your gear and meet at the entrance to the back gardens.” The king turned to look at the large clock on the wall. When no one moved, he said, “Time starts now. Get going.”

Myra scooted her chair away from the table and scampered out to check the list for her teammates. On her team? Ronan, Fawx, Soren, and Owain. She rolled her eyes and bit her cheek to keep from cursing. They must be the four men her mother mentioned last night. The ones who’d felt the rocks in their beds. She knew Ronan had.

The hallway filled with a couple dozen men as the competitors came to check the list. Surrounded, she tried to find a way out while simultaneously searching for any one of her teammates. A newly familiar calloused hand slipped into hers and led her out of the chaos. Fawx winked as he released her hand.

She assessed her team. She knew from the presentations that at least one of them was a highly skilled fighter. The other three had chosen not to showcase any fighting skills.

She took the lead. “Grab your best weapon and a bag, then meet me at the kitchen in ten minutes.”

Soren stopped her. “Do we need our armor?”

“No. The battlefield will have a barrier in place.”

They scattered. In her room, Myra grabbed her pair of hand scythes, an empty bag, and a coil of rope. She twirled the scythes, loosening her arms and wrists, then kicked a couple imaginary foes to warm-up her legs, too. Satisfied, she dashed to the kitchen, beating everyone except Ronan. She grinned when she saw him holding a rope as well.

“You can never have too much rope,” she said, smiling at him.

“I have found that to be false, on more than one occasion,” Owain said.

He strode toward them carrying a shining shield, his sword sheathed at his hip. He stopped a good distance from the princess. She still hadn’t figured out why he always kept such space between them.

Ronan turned to him. “Why is that?”

Owain answered with a sigh. “It’s too easy to become entangled in one’s own tool.”

Fawx, who had snuck up behind her, chimed in. “His Gracelessness is an expert on getting tangled up in things.”

“Owain, pass us your bag and wait here for Soren. When he arrives, you two join us inside the larder.” She was done wasting time chatting.

“Have you participated in many simulations, Myra?” Ronan asked.

She grinned and passed hard bread to him and Fawx. “They’re one of my favorite pastimes, particularly capture the flag.”

“Ah, then we’ll have more than just a home terrain advantage.” Fawx winked.

She nodded and continued handing them travel food items such as cheese and dried meat. She pursed her lips at a box on the top shelf. Ronan reached for it, but Soren stepped inside, blocking him. He handed the box down to Myra with a smile.

“Apologies for my tardiness,” he said.

She passed around the dried fruits from the box. “No, I’m sorry for not waiting.”

From his place leaning in the doorway, Owain interrupted, “Apologies like that could go on forever.”

She tightened her bag and slung it on her back, then rubbed her chin as she looked over her teammates. Fawx, wearing forest green from head to toe, bristled with knives. She checked his shoes and smiled. Soft-soled, as suspected. Soren stood next to him, a towering shadow in all black with a dark, curved sword at his hip. Beside him was Ronan, holding what appeared to be a plain hiking stick. Behind them all, Owain lounged in a sky-blue shirt that matched his eyes holding his shining shield.

Myra scowled and headed out to the gardens. “Are you going to hold that thing all day?”

Owain preened. “What can I say? I am a sword and shield man. The effect is useless without the shield.”

“Most shield users have a way to carry them on their backs when not in combat,” she muttered.

Fawx and Soren snickered behind her. She even saw Ronan’s dimples make a rare appearance. Owain huffed and settled his shield on his back. She smiled to herself.

At the entrance of the back gardens, they gathered around the king and his footman. They were the first group to arrive.

“Have you chosen a team leader?” the king asked.

“Myra,” a trio of voices chorused in unison.

She looked to Ronan, the one who hadn’t chimed in. The look in his jade-green eyes was full of confidence as he nodded to her.

She shrugged at her father. “Me it is.”

He waved at the footman, who held a bag. “Draw a tile for your flag color and entry position.”

She held her breath as she stuck her hand in the bag. She’d never had great luck at this part. She pulled out the first tile she touched and grinned at the green three. Brown was the only better color for a flag. Myra waved the tile to her team. They all clapped and Fawx cheered. It was such a small victory, but their support made her feel amazing.

A servant gave them their green flag and showed them to a chalked-in three on the ground. They chatted quietly about potential strategies while waiting for the other teams to arrive. Finally, everything was ready, and her father stepped forward to give the last instructions.

“In capture the flag, the flag represents your country’s highest official. Therefore, we have no specific guidelines as to how you must protect your flag. You may wish to guard it or hide it. You may even wish to take it with you. The only thing the flag cannot do is speak its mind.” Her father chuckled. “Once you step through the barrier ahead, three things will happen. A protection spell will be placed upon each person. A defensive training spell will be placed on every weapon. And you will be teleported to your coordinating entry positions.” He looked over the gathered crowd. “Let the battle begin!”

Everyone rushed forward, but Myra held her team back. She watched the opposition. When they were all through the barrier, she allowed her team to proceed. Fawx dashed ahead, Owain hot on his tail. Soren and Ronan stayed by her side, like two trees standing tall and steady. Her father winked at her as they entered the barrier.

One knife out cleaning his nails, Fawx casually leaned against one of many trees, while Owain surveyed the forested area ahead.

Soren lifted a branch aside. “Will the entire area be forested, Myra?”

“No. They’ll have prepared a varied landscape: forest, caves, ruins, fort, river.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Cliffs, canyons, waterfalls. Things like that.”

“What do you want to do with our flag?” Ronan asked.

She tapped her chin. “I like to take the flag with me. It’s not something most people do, and it’s harder to steal.”

Grinning, Fawx pulled off a leaf. “We can make a decoy.”

“A single leaf will fool no one,” Soren countered.

Myra held back a sigh and an eyeroll. If there was something to disagree on, those two would find it.

“I’m well aware.” Fawx simpered at Soren, then turned his back. “May I borrow the flag, please, Myra?”

She smiled and handed it to him.

“If we use a decoy, someone will need to stay behind and act as a guard or the opposition will think it’s a trap,” Ronan said. “I’ll do that.”

Owain swung his shield off his back and banged it against a tree. “Oh, no. What do you think this is for?” He caught Myra’s gaze and held it. “I am the ultimate defender.”

She clenched a fist behind her back to keep from laughing —or yelling, she wasn’t sure which. “We haven’t even decided on our attack strategy yet. I might need either or both of you for that.” She looked between Owain and Ronan. “Why don’t the two of you come up with a decoy guard rotation for everyone?”

Owain nodded. “Everyone except you.”

Her stomach knotted. “What do you mean, except me?”

Ronan answered softly, “You won’t be part of the guard rotation.”

Her voice deepened. “Why not?” Her head whipped between the two of them. “I know you haven’t seen my fighting skills yet, but I’m here for more than show!”

From his spot at the foot of a tree, Fawx added, “That’s not what they’re saying, Myra.”

She whirled around, chest heaving. “Then what am I missing?”

Soren, who had a scroll of paper and piece of charcoal out, answered, “A decoy with you guarding it won’t work. Our opponents would never believe we’d leave you alone.” He glanced up from his drawing, cat smile in full force. “Which is precisely why you should be the one to carry the flag. They won’t suspect it.”

She took a deep breath and slowly released it and her anger. She breathed in deeply one more time, looking at her four teammates, grateful for the different perspective they’d just given her. Maybe her parents hadn’t been so wrong to push this on her.

Fawx bounced up, waving a green flag in each hand. “All done!”

Owain went over to check it out, curving around Myra. “Impressive. From over there, I couldn’t tell them apart.”

Fawx faked a curtsy. “Why thank you, Your Gracelessness. What kind of tailor would I be if I couldn’t whip up a flag in a few minutes?”

Owain cuffed him on the back of the head. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”

“You’re a tailor?” Myra asked.

He winked. “It’s a hobby. My dear cousin doesn’t allow me a true profession.”

She felt her view of him expanding as all the pieces she knew rearranged themselves in her mind. She tucked the original flag into her tunic, leaving a corner visible for fairness. Although, since she had chosen to wear a green tunic and trousers this morning, it blended in quite well.

“Where shall we place our decoy?” she asked.

“Somewhere visible, but not easily accessible,” came Soren’s contribution.

“Also, the one on guard duty shouldn’t be too hard to spot, so it doesn’t feel like a trap,” Ronan added.

The princess looked around and nodded to herself. “That just leaves one place: up a tree.” She grinned. “I’ll take it. I can check which battlefield layout they used while I’m up there.”

As she expected, three of them strongly, loudly objected. While they were hotly arguing, Ronan pulled her aside. He tied his rope around her waist and tucked the decoy flag in her belt.

He put his hands on her shoulders, his jade green eyes serious. “I assume you have experience?”

She raised an eyebrow and gave a nod.

He jerked his chin toward a tree. “Then go before they notice. And be careful.”