The early mornings on palace grounds were peaceful. The sun had only just begun to rise above the horizon and the birds had barely started singing. It was calm and gray as Finneas walked the grounds, approaching the guard’s quarters. The building was sequestered away from the main palace, tucked beside the stables. It contained housing for each member of the Royal Guard, as well as a training facility, and, most mornings, was filled with people.

As he made his way through the gate leading to the training grounds, Finneas found it oddly quiet. A handful of pairs sparred throughout the grounds, some practiced with bow and arrow, and others simply walked through the yard. However, compared to the usual hustle of the area, there were few people there.

“Finny!” A chipper voice called to him from across the yard. Standing with a grin, Barnaby Clearwater waved to him. Finneas approached, nodding.

“Beef. What’s going on?”

The man stretched, raising his arms above his head. “Altrusia is leading practice drills off in the forest. No one really wanted to go, but His Majesty insisted that he needed to teach the Guard some sorta lesson.” He ran a hand through his hair. “How’d it go with him and Maron?”

“His Highness’s affairs are not mine to discuss,” Finneas said. When Barnaby raised a brow, he sighed. “His Highness rejected him as he has all suitors who’ve come thus far.”

Barnaby laughed. “Thank god. The guy sucks hard.”

“Beef,” a loud, low voice said from behind. Finneas turned, finding a large and imposing figure. Tall, wide, and bald, Joel Nichols stood behind them, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I’ve told you before to hold your tongue when others are around.”

The man groaned, rolling his eyes. “Captain, the man’s a dick. He doesn’t even know how to run proper drills. If you wanna take bets, I’d wager my left asscheek he’s out there stumbling through basics right now.” Barnaby never had understood how to keep himself quiet.

Joel sighed. “Regardless, you need to learn to hold your tongue. Go, run laps with the others on the field. You need something to occupy you.” At the man’s groan, Joel pointed toward the field. Not wanting to disobey him further and make him more irritated, Barnaby sighed and trotted off in the correct direction.

Finneas raised a brow.

“He’s right. The kid’s an idiot. But the less Beef runs his mouth, the better.” Joel shook his head, but a smile still made its way to his lips. “Why don’t you go grab a sword and tell me about those meetings?”

Joel walked leisurely beside him as Finneas made his way toward the main training building. Peeking inside, he found it empty. It was odd to see this place so devoid of life early in the morning. Perhaps, he thought, that was the power of Damon Altrusia.

“Tell me His Highness doesn’t like him,” Joel said with a sigh. Everyone’s favorite question, it seemed. At least, when it was Joel asking, Finneas had no reservations about answering. The Captain of the Royal Guard had always been good to him, being his sole mentor since he was nineteen. Everything Finneas knew about protecting the crown, he knew because of Joel. Even before he had begun training to be Maron’s guard, Joel had been around. He’d locked his sights onto Finneas the moment he heard a Stone would be living inside palace walls.

Finneas pulled a blunt sword from the small wall of practice instruments. It was well weighted and perfectly made, identical to the real thing except for its blade. His mother’s handiwork. “His Highness and I have already sent a rejection letter.”

“Interesting.”

Finneas watched Joel make his selection and take form. “How so?”

“Altrusia has been claiming all morning that he won him over so magnificently that he intends to stay for another week. He must not have read the letter yet.”

The first clash of metal against metal sounded, and Finneas narrowed his brow. So he was spreading rumors already to try and bolster the expectations of the people. “I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he can’t read.”

Joel laughed, and in that short moment, Finneas landed a sharp blow to his side. He wasn’t knocked off his stride, however. Of course he wasn’t. Even if he allowed Finneas to land a hit, it would almost never be more than a second until he recovered. There was a reason the man had been Captain for nearly two decades. “He’s not very good with strategy or tact, but he seems to have charmed His Majesty.”

“Then I suppose it’s good that this is the prince’s choice,” Finneas said. A harsh twack landed him in the ribs and he coughed, taking a step back. He did his best not to instinctively clutch his side. That wouldn't help anything– it would only cause him to lower his defenses. “Is he really so interested in having Altrusia as his next in line? He doesn’t have an education, and it’s not like his family is too powerful or affluent to resist.”

Joel sighed, landing another strike directly to Finneas’s chest. “Whatever it is, he wants Prince Maron to marry him. If he’s been rejected, I imagine he’ll stay around until His Majesty thinks the boy’s warming to him.”

Finneas fell back, nearly stumbling directly to the ground. His heart pounded in his ears. The thought of Altrusia being around any more than absolutely necessary was unpleasant. The way his eyes seemed to drag over him like claws digging through skin made everything in Finneas feel wrong. It was that same look he’d been given years ago, before an unruly visiting noble had lashed out at the thought of having a magician in their room as an attendant. It wasn’t as if Damon Altrusia was the only person who’d ever looked at him like that. But he was one of few with enough power to get away with any actions that followed.

Not to mention, even if there wasn’t a target directly on Finneas’s back, he’d set his sights on Maron. Every moment in the same room as him seemed to wear Maron down further, exhausting him more than it should. “He’s like a vampire,” Finneas said. “He takes the life from people in a heartbeat. Awful to be around.”

Joel stepped backward, putting his blade in a defensive position. “I’d worry about more than just his attitude. If he doesn’t get what he wants, I’d be willing to bet he’ll blame you in some regard. You’re an easy target. And if he can’t prove you’re his obstacle, I worry about His Highness’s safety.”

Finneas narrowed his brow and lunged forward, gripping the hilt of his blade tightly. Despite Joel’s quick movements to block downward, Finneas moved for his unguarded side, striking him in the ribs and knocking him off kilter. The man staggered, crashing into a kneeling position. “I’m not going to let anything happen to Maron,” Finneas said, dropping his sword to reach out, offering Joel a hand up.

Joel nodded, a hand clutching his side. There was always such a twinkle in his eyes when Finneas managed to knock him over, but it died quickly. “We’ve talked about this before. I want your cuffs removed.” When Finneas opened his mouth, Joel kept talking. “You’d be able to better serve His Highness if you had access to all the weapons in your arsenal. Have you talked to him about it at all?”

Finneas sighed. “Yes.” His eyes dragged along the ground as he placed the sword back in its rack upon the wall. He couldn’t focus on fighting if he was going to think about this. “I know…that I wouldn’t hurt him. He knows it, too. But it’s more than that. I don’t want to frighten him. And how will the people–”

A warm hand gripped his shoulder, pulling his eyes back up. “Finneas.”

“It’s not like His Majesty would ever allow it.” There was really no need for Maron or Joel to be so intense regarding the matter. Without the king’s permission, this was purely a hypothetical, and for all that the man hated magic, even prior to the attack, it wasn’t going to happen. 

“Does His Highness want them off?”

Finneas nodded. “He wants me to be happy.”

“That is the only thing you need to worry about. If it benefits his safety, and if he’s comfortable enough to let it happen, that's all you need to concern yourself with.” Joel squeezed his shoulder tight.

“None of that matters if His Majesty doesn’t want it.” Even if Maron weren’t terrified of fire, even if the people could be guaranteed to accept it, even if every other aspect of this would be fine, it wasn’t something Finneas would allow himself to get his hopes up over. The king’s desires were law. If it was not his will, it would not be done. And this was certainly not his will.

“I’ll speak to His Majesty.”

A part of Finneas wanted to beg him not to. If every other roadblock was removed and that was truly the only thing standing between him and his powers, he knew that what little anger he felt toward the entirety of the situation would concentrate into something deeper, some deep, targeted, pit of resentment. Right now, he could tell himself a thousand times that this would keep Maron happy, that the people’s reaction was really so important, that it was everything coming together at once to make this impossible.

If he thought about it too long, if he considered everything else that had been poorly received by the people but still allowed and passed to law, if he truly took Maron’s words to heart, then there was only one man’s ignorance and anger in his way. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. All it would do was fester and manifest in hatred. That wasn’t what he wanted for himself. He had to be better than that.

“Finneas,” a soft voice called from the doorway. 

Finneas turned, finding Maron. It wasn’t uncommon for him to join Finneas after he had morning practice, for him to need a short walk to stretch after readying himself in the morning and then for the pair to return to the palace together.

Just looking at him, Finneas felt everything soften. Anything that might make him a better protector, a better servant, was worth trying. Even if he would need to deal with the emotions that came after being denied access to his magic, if there was even a chance that he would regain it and keep Maron safe, he would do it.

“Please do,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

Joel’s grip on his shoulder relented, and was replaced with a single hearty clap on the back. “Get going. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to deal with. Keep him safe.”

Finneas nodded. He would. Of course he would. He was nothing if not Maron’s shield.

Author's Note!

Thank you for reading this update! I hope you enjoyed it! I've decided if we get to 25 subs, I'll change to updating every other week instead of monthly, if that sounds okay? Also!! The cover by @Mad_Cactus_Soda (twt) is so close to being finished and it's gorgeous!! I can't wait for you to see! Until next time <3