Lance, Ivan’s guard, often partook in sparring with the guards, offering his wisdom and tips to those daring to approach him. Rowan was one of the few who frequently asked for a training session, attempting new and different techniques he was accustomed to improving his skills. While Ivan had sired a few children of his own, many of which remained in the Rosenthal estate as guards, Lance looked after Rowan like his own, teaching and training him as he did with his sired children.

These training sessions were often when Rowan considered Lance more than just a mentor and trainer; he was the only father figure that Rowan had grown to know. While Rowan had only been at the estate for a couple of decades, 

Lance parried another strike from Rowan’s trusted blade, swinging his wrists in a careful maneuver to disarm Rowan. In superb speed and grace, Lance had rushed past Rowan, pressing his blade to the guard’s throat, his other hand pressing the small of his back. “What does that make that? Thirty to three?”

Rowan smirked as he slid the smaller dagger from his sleeve, stealthily giving Lance the benefit of the doubt. As Lance lessened his grip, Rowan spun around, pointing the short blade above the older vampire’s heart. “I believe it’s actually twenty-nine to four.” 

“Clever,” Lance commended as they sheathed their weapons, stepping apart to catch their breath. “Though stealth is your expertise.”

“Learned from the best.”

Lance placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “No daggers, just swords this time?”

Rowan nodded, unlatching the dagger holders on his thigh and arms, tossing it to the side. Lance did the same before inspecting his blade. His was heavier than Rowan’s, most likely heavier than any other guard’s, but he wielded it with the grace of a rapier.

In a real fight, Rowan stood no chance against the vampire. Rumor was that Lance had been a blacksmith in his youth, a pioneer in perfecting weapons of destruction for many historical figureheads. Over the generations, Lance had perfected his craft, using his skills to hone his weapons and practice with experienced swordsmen worldwide. 

Ivan was lucky to have such a skilled and experienced swordsman.

Rowan studied the vampire, watching as Lance resumed his position, completely relaxed. “Ready?” Lance asked. With Rowan’s curt nod, Lance stepped closer, his sword as steady as ever. Rowan gripped the hilt tighter, anticipating his moves, despite knowing he was easily disadvantaged.

They sparred intensely, Rowan nearly losing his grip from the sheer weight of the blows, narrowly missing the edge of his blade as he stepped out of the way. Not once did Lance look exhausted, even though they had been practicing for well over an hour. Rowan couldn’t do much besides blocking the onslaught of Lance’s offense, his muscles straining at every twist and turn. 

Eventually, Rowan managed to thrust his sword toward an opening on Lance’s right, but faster than Rowan could blink, Lance had already blocked the blow, the sheer ricochet of the clashing steel throwing Rowan off balance. 

Rowan gritted his teeth and dug deeper, compelling his feet and arms to move faster, slowly pushing back at Lance. Whether he was letting Rowan gain traction, Rowan didn’t care. Their blades met again, Lance overpowering him and pushing his face closer to Rowan’s.

“It looks as though we’ve attracted some attention.” Rowan glanced to the side, noticing the prince immediately. Julien led the younger prince and Jean in the hallway, lost in some conversation he couldn’t quite pick up on, even with his advanced hearing. While Rowan would’ve preferred they remained in their rooms, at least they had remained at the manor while Rowan had been training or asleep. 

“You’re distracted,” Lance chided. “Wide open.”

Rowan scowled, turning a second too late, tripping over Lance’s lunge and landing flat on his back. Winded and pride wounded, Rowan laid his disarmed blade beside him as the dust kicked up. He groaned as he heard the princes and Jean approaching the training grounds.

Rowan could hear Julien’s distinct footsteps, stirring up more dirt as his boots rested on either side of his head. He stared at the prince’s upside-down face.

“Is this your idea of resting?” Julien said, unamused.

“I’ve had five hours of sleep.”

Julien rolled his eyes, extending an arm out to him. “That’s not nearly enough.”

Rowan grasped the prince’s arm, letting Julien attempt to pull his weight, but got up on his own in no time, bowing slightly before him and Felix. 

“Princelings,” Lance greeted with a bow. 

“No need for that,” Julien brushed off, glancing in Rowan’s direction. “I see where you get the seriousness from.”

Rowan raised a brow. “It’s a required formal greeting.”

Julien scrunched his nose. “One that’s surely outdated.”

Lance gave a curt smile before glancing in the direction of the hall. “I shall take my leave.”

Rowan and Jean lowered their heads in respect as Lance sheathed his sword and headed out of the training grounds. 

“As should we,” Jean said, turning to Rowan. “Ivan suggested we investigated a part of town. There’s been missing vampires and dhampirs lately. Even the other creatures stay clear of the area due to the rumors.”

“Is that really necessary?” Julien asked. “Shouldn’t we be staying away from places rumored to be associated with the Coalition?”

Felix frowned. “Yeah, I don’t like the idea, but father insisted. Something about being more responsible than you and establishing initiative: he said I needed to show that a Rosenthal prince isn’t afraid of them and that we must show the general public that we are trying to establish order.”

Julien made a face. “Better you than me, I suppose.”

Rowan couldn’t agree more, not that Julien wasn’t capable, but Felix was far more inconspicuous and stealthy than Julien. He couldn’t imagine the risk of bringing Julien into a Coalition-filled part of town. While he worried for Felix and Jean, it seemed they didn’t attract as much attention at the Blue Vein as Julien had. Felix’s skills in blending in and coercion were less unpredictable too. 

Felix shrugged. “We shouldn’t be long. Just a couple of interviews and strolling around the area.”

Rowan didn’t like the idea either; neither looked thrilled. He hoped they were taking extra precautions and bringing a few more guards to accompany them after the events at the Blue Vein. “Be careful,” he told Jean. 

Jean nodded and extended his arm, gripping Rowan’s in a common acknowledgment that guards did with each other. They swiftly left the grounds, leaving Rowan and Julien on their own.

Julien walked around, glancing at the weapons Rowan had practiced with, eyeing up the dummies on one end and the slim swords on a rack. 

“So, training again,” Julien said. “You really have no other interests, do you?”

Rowan did have other interests, none of which he figured had much use as a guard. Even if he did have downtime to read a few books from Rosenthal’s library, he had a job that kept him busy enough. He doubted the resident librarian would appreciate Rowan taking a couple of reads to his room, not that he’d be able to read it in one sitting as he pleased. 

That, and most of the books, were probably too advanced for him to enjoy. All the ones he was lucky enough to read in his youth and on the run happened to be children’s fables.

But other than reading, Rowan wasn’t sure what he’d consider his interests. Roaming the territories meant he didn’t have a place to call home, no place to settle and develop any interests. He wondered what it’d be like if had a home, had even as much privilege as any of the Rosenthal children had. Each prince and princess had their own focus or interest. Whether it was Valentino’s paintings, or Virion’s obsession with parties, each family member had their own pastime. 

Then he remembered the twins, Alexander and Alexandria. They both enjoyed training and fighting in combat. Rowan had trained with them frequently before they moved to their respective territories. “Training is an acceptable interest, is it not?”

Julien rolled his eyes. “I don’t know why I asked.”

Rowan walked over to the set of dummies, grabbed one of the lighter blades, and extended it to the prince. “Maybe training will prove it can be an interest.”

“Fine, rope me into a training session; I see how it is.” Julien took the blade, testing its weight before doing a few light swings. Once accustomed to the sword, he took a practice swing at the dummy.

Rowan watched him cautiously, realizing why Julien stuck with a dagger for a weapon. His control was all over the place; he feared one slip could injure Julien if he weren’t careful. As Julien drew the sword from the ground upwards, Rowan intervened. 

“Like this,” Rowan said, motioning with his hands the correct form. “Aiming downward is far easier than upwards.”

Julien copied his movements. “With a lighter blade, I could slice a man upwards.”

Rowan frowned. “You open up too much room for error. They’d have the upper hand if the blade does not cut through their gear and there’s no momentum. You’re working against gravity this way. A knife would fare better in this scenario if you insist on uppercutting them.”

Julien scowled. “But if I had to, it would work with a longer, lighter blade?”

Rowan didn’t argue, gripping his own blade and demonstrating how he’d hold his blade, switching his grip on the handle to give his wrist an easier position to follow through. He bent down, storing the energy in his legs to lunge forward, swinging his blade upwards into the dummy. The straw and cloths exploded, littering the dirt. 

“Show off,” Julien commented before copying Rowan’s stance. Rowan pursed his lips, tentatively reaching his gloved hand over the princes. He hesitated, but Julien didn’t seem bothered by the hands-on correction. 

“Keep it closer to the guard for better control,” he informed the prince before pointing at Julien’s knee. “Keep it bent more.”

Julien followed his instructions, feeling the burn in his thighs. “Okay?”

“Think of your leg as a spring. It’ll add to the force of the swing. Follow through.”

Julien looked at Rowan like he was crazy before attempting to swing. While not as effective as Rowan’s, a few pieces of straw got loose from the dummy. “Better?”

Rowan nodded. “With enough practice and strength training—“

“Gross. No.” Julien handed the practice sword. “Are you seriously going to be training even more because of the Coalition?” Julien joked. “Who will take me to the Blue Vein?”

Rowan narrowed his eyes. “Taking you to training sessions is far more valuable.”

Julien’s fangs poked out. “You’re no fun.”

“Fun was not in the requirements of being a guard.”

“Oh, shut up. Speaking of the Blue Vein, have you thought of who may be a spy?” Julien said, lowering his voice. Rowan gave him a pointed look before scoping their surroundings. No one else was in the training grounds, but it was a common passthrough. “Surely you have some that cross your mind that may work for the Coalition.”

“There are a few, but it is too early to tell,” Rowan said cautiously. “Assumptions this early can be counterintuitive.”

“Jean said he’s got a few contenders as well,” Julien added. “We could discuss this later, but he told me there were other concerning theories.”

“Theories?”

Julien nodded before leaning in, “Other clans.”

Rowan frowned, not liking where this was going. “It’s a small possibility.”

“One we can’t rule out,” Julien said. “It didn’t cross my mind—and surely not a lot of minds, given we’re the most powerful clan—but a group of vengeful vampires banding together and stealthily attacking us could be a bigger threat than we anticipated. But, surely they can’t be all united enough to beat us, but finding the spy for either the Coalition or them should be easy, right?

“What did Jean tell me? He told me the leader’s name. Something like Oscar Leech? Liszt? I mean, how hard is it to take this guy down?”

Rowan’s body stilled, the name stunning him worse than a blow from Lance. He willed the memories of a burning home away, his scarred side aching as the name danced on the prince’s tongue. He hadn’t intended for Julien to know about that name, and while he couldn’t blame Jean for mentioning it, Rowan wished he hadn’t said anything at all.

“Do not mention that name aloud,” Rowan tried to keep his voice calm, only successful because no one else was around. “Pretend you have never heard of that man.”

“Why not?” Julien tilted his head. “If he’s a threat to the Rosenthals, shouldn’t we be more concerned and ask around? Focus our searches and energy on finding this guy?”

Rowan shook his head, wishing he could coerce Julien to forget, but coercing a prince was a punishable offense—using it to wipe a prince’s memory was far worse. It wasn’t like Rowan could coerce Julien, anyway; coercion was never Rowan’s forte. “He is a dangerous man,” he settled. “Far more dangerous than the Coalition.”

Julien looked skeptical. “One man? Against the Coalition?”

Rowan hesitated. “He’s a cruel man, one without motive or sense of reason. The Coalition has at least some decency and purpose. It’s best you remain ignorant of his existence.”

“But if he—“

“Enough.” Rowan hadn’t meant to snap, quickly adding, “My apologies, I misspoke.”

Julien remained silent, his face scrunching as he processed Rowan’s words. Rowan knew he couldn’t mask the agonized look on his face and only hoped Julien would drop the subject. But as the silence dragged on, a lightbulb seemed to hit the prince. His tone was softer, tentative in a way Rowan had never heard before. “Is this who you were on the run from?”

Rowan looked to the ground as unwanted memories of his life before the Rosenthals surfaced. “Yes.”

---

A/N: Important announcement!!! I've created a Patreon page! While most of my works can be found on Wattpad and Tapas for free, I'm offering extra content, snippets, sneak peeks, etc., at a reasonable price. In addition, you can get exclusive access to An Oath to Keep (in its rough draft form), my offline queer story about two rivaling princes. While officially launching on March 1st, I have some content posted if you want to see what I offer for the two tiers. Links in bio.

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