“Keep your sword up! How the hell are you ever going to defend yourself if you can’t even keep your sword up?” Piers swung the wooden blade at me.

I blocked it and staggered back from the force of the blow. 

“Keep your feet under you. How many times do I have to tell you to fix your stance?”

I struggled to keep up, clearing on the defensive.

The wooden sword slammed into my shoulder. I grabbed it and staggered to the side. Looking at the sky, I breathed out through my nose. The pain wasn’t going away. 

“If you weren’t always so off balance, you would have blocked it. Learn to move your feet.”

I glanced at the mortal as I massaged my muscle.

“Come on.” The retired knight motioned for me. “Again.”

Taking a deep breath, I gripped my sword and prepared myself. 

“Attack me.”

I swallowed hard—that usually ended poorly.

“Attack. You can’t always be on the run. Attack!”

Taking a deep breath, I engaged him. I swung as hard as I could, but little phased the mortal. He batted my attacks away. 

“Hard, attack me!”

I swung the sword and realized I had gotten too close. Piers deflected my blow, and the handle of his wooden sword drove into my nose. My head snapped back with enough force to knock me onto my back. My sight was fading around the edges before clearing up. I could taste blood and could feel it pouring down my face and into my hair. Sitting up, I cupped my face. It wasn’t just a bloody nose. The edge had cut me as well. 

Piers sighed. “When are you going to get any better at this, your highness? I feel like your father is paying me to beat the shit out of you.”

“It’ll be fine,” I breathed. “My kind heals fast.”

“Thank the gods for that.” Piers chucked the wooden blade toward the pile of practice swords.

We were far from ever using a real one. I’d have more than a bloody nose by the end of it. Holding my nose, I staggered to my feet and went to a water barrel.

“What’s the point of this?” said Piers’s squire. “I’m sure there are other kingdoms who will hire you.”

Piers shrugged. “Yes, but will they pay me as much as the elves?” He grabbed a canteen. “They’re weak as shit but desperate. I asked King Arkin if I should go easy on the boy, and his reply was would I go easy on a mortal,” he laughed. 

“He’ll never be able to wield a real sword,” muttered the squire.

“Our goal is to get the prince to be able to defend himself. He’s not going to be winning any tournaments.” Piers sat and let out a sigh. “Wait until later this week. The nobles will show us all how it is done. Alric.”

I glanced over my shoulder.

“Make sure to attend the tourney.” He pointed at me. “Maybe you’re learning something.” He shook his head. “Learn anything, and I’ll be happy.”

I nodded. “My father said we’d all be going.”

“He’s wasting so much money on the boy,” whispered the squire.

Piers lifted his hand. “Don’t say that too loudly. We don’t want King Arkin to overhear.” He rose to his feet. “Should we call it a day?”

I swallowed hard. We hadn’t been going very long. “I’m alright. I can go again as soon as I get it to stop bleeding.”

Piers walked over with a look of annoyance. He lifted my chin and turned my head from side to side. Blood was seeping over my lips.

“Eternals heal fast, but not that fast. That won’t be sealed until tomorrow. We’re done for the day. I’ll have the queen yell at me if I leave any more marks on your face. The Annual Banquet started tomorrow, and I’m nervous this won’t be gone by the time people arrive.”

I pulled back and used the bottom of my shirt to press against the wound. 

“Another day.” He patted my shoulder and picked up my sword. “We should make a lighter metal one for you. So you can actually feel what it’s like to hold something other than wood.”

I looked away, not sure how to respond.

Piers’s squire cleaned up the rest of the area. I returned to the water barrel and checked my reflection. I didn’t think it would bruise. My arm was probably already turning purple. I dabbed at my face until it stopped bleeding and then tried to clean up the blood so my parents wouldn’t notice. 

Letting out a deep breath, I wandered to where the metal swords were kept and pulled one out. I could hold it just fine, but could I swing it around with enough power to take down a mortal—no. I doubted that any eternal alive would be able to. My kind wasn’t built for strength.

I dropped it in the holder and headed for the palace. I turned the corner near the stables and stopped. My father was talking to Piers and quickly spotted me.

“Alric.” He motioned for me.

I approached. My father grabbed my chin the moment I was within reach. He squeezed my face harder than necessary as he examined the cut.

“Fucking hell. What if this isn’t gone tomorrow? What if it bruises? How will I explain it to our guests?”

“It should be,” I replied. “Other times, it only lasts a day.”

Shaking my head, my father let out a huff. “I doubt you would recommend entering him in the tourney.”

Piers smiled. “They use real swords. I would fear for the prince’s safety.”

I glared at the nearby building with a sour look on my face.

“This is why I tell you to practice.” He snatched my hand. “This doesn’t even feel like someone who’s ever lifted a sword.”

I yanked it free. “I need to clean up before Mother sees.”

My father eyed me before nodding. “Go.” He waved me off.

I hurried past him.

“I’m losing hope in that boy,” said my father.

“Your grace, I hate to remind you, but he’s an elf. His abilities will always be limited.”

I increased my pace and entered through a back entrance. A maid spotted me. I saw her eyes grow wide and knew I had limited time before my mother would come looking. I headed to the nearest staircase and went to my room. My shirt was heavily stained. I removed it and went to the bathroom to wash the red tinge from my hair. I was half done when I heard the door open.

“Ricky,” called my mother.

I kept trying to get the red tinge out of the blonde strands.

“Ricky.” My mother sighed. “What happened?”

I shrugged. “Took a sword handle to the face. I’m fine.”

She carefully lifted my chin and touched my hair. “You're covered in dirt.”

“A fell,” I muttered. “A couple of times.”

My mother looked unimpressed as she went to fill the tub. “I already told them to bring hot water.”

“Are we going to get hot water soon?” I asked. “I heard Father yelling earlier that the fae were being unreasonable with their prices.”

“It won’t happen before people start arriving. They’ll have to settle for running water. Cold, but better than a bucket.”

I touched my nose to examine how tender it felt.

My mother picked up a piece of my hair. “How bad was it bleeding?”

“Not bad,” I replied. 

She turned in a circle and noticed the blood-stained shirt balled up by the door. She picked up a corner and eyed me.

I swallowed hard and thought of what to say. “I got the cut wet.” I motioned to my face. “Made it worse.”

“I should fire that man.”

“Father won’t let you.”

She dropped the shirt. “Then he will mysteriously disappear.”

“Father will find someone else to fill his place. He’s willing to pay.”

My mother scoffed. “I know. Maybe we could afford the fae’s price if he cut costs elsewhere.”

Two men entered and dumped a steam-hot barrel of water into the tub. They bowed slightly before leaving. 

My mother’s gaze landed on my shoulder. “Is this from today?”

I turned my body before she could touch it. “A bruise can be covered.”

“I am more concerned that someone is leaving bruises on my son.”

“Mom,” I breathed, rubbing my forehead. “I’m twenty. I’m not a child being bullied. I’m trying to learn how to wield a sword.”

“Hmm…” She folded her arms. “How is that going?”

I opened my mouth and stopped. I let out a sigh. “Poorly.”

She kissed my cheek. “Get cleaned up. I need to go and see how preparations are coming. I’ll leave some medicine to put on this.” She examined my nose.

“It’ll be fine.”

“Let’s hope.” She pointed at me as she left the room.

Once alone, I undressed and slipped into the water. It felt amazing on my sore muscles. I sank lower into the water and closed my eyes. I hoped one day was enough to heal my face or my father would have another thing to complain about.

***

Yelling was coming from the entryway. I spotted my sister sitting at the top of the stairs.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, squatting beside her.

Cena shrugged. “I guess the fae don’t have enough oil to light the inns where the guests will be staying. They’ll have to use candles, and Father is furious.” She eyed me. “Why is your hair wet?”

“I had sparring training.”

She grinned and motioned around her nose. “I see. Let’s hope that goes away by morning.”

“Mother left me medicine to put on it. It should be.”

“You know this reflects poorly on Thaloria!” said my father. “These people come from a kingdom where the whole city is lit. We can’t even light a few inns!”

“They’ll be here in a day. We can’t change it now,” said my mother. “The palace has lights; water is running. We did what we could in the time we were given.”

“Cold water!”

“I don’t think either of them will get much sleep tonight,” whispered Cena.

“Are you nervous about tomorrow? This place is going to be filled with mortals and fae.” I scanned the hallway.

Cena shrugged. “Nervous but excited. I’ve never seen other royals.”

Nodding, I stood. “I’m going to bed. I need plenty of rest to fix this.” I waved my hand toward my face. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“I’m not a child, Alric.”

“We’re elves, not mortals. I’m starting to realize there is a difference when I turned eighteen and nothing changed.”

“Hmm… it might just be you.” She smiled at me. “Goodnight, Alric. I hope your face heals.”

I shook my head at her and turned to leave. “As do I. Goodnight.”