Cedric

The sound of the sharpening stone gliding up and down my claymore’s blade is loud in the armory. Back and forth. Back and forth. I continue to run the stone along the blade, sharpening it so that it will slice through a thin piece of parchment like a whisper in the night.

The familiar task comforts me, soothes my pent-up energy, even though the hard wood of the barrel I’m sitting on is a bit uncomfortable.

In three days there will be a ball, and of course I have to attend. King Ildris III decreed it, and while he is the ruler of Stormvalla, he is also my uncle. I have too much respect for him in both capacities to go against his wishes.

Plus, as Duke of Arlan, it is my duty to attend courtly functions, even though I find them as tedious as they are annoying. It’s just too much pomp and ceremony. Too many desperate mothers searching for husbands for their daughters.

I’m a bit surprised Uncle Ildris is even having this ball. He is more warrior than socialite, and he’s a war hero. He has nothing to prove to anyone.

But it all comes back to duty, I suppose. Part of being nobility means rubbing shoulders with other nobles, making alliances, and listening to endless rounds of gossip.

Oh, how I hate these things. Uncle Ildris knew this when he called me into the throne room earlier to tell me he expected to see me in attendance Friday night for the ball.

The stone glides down the sharpened edge of my sword and I set it aside. Holding the blade out in front of me by the hilt, I eye the length, making sure there aren’t any nicks or dents. Satisfied there aren’t any, I grab the cloth and start polishing.

My thoughts turn back to the meeting with Uncle Ildris. He stared at me with his dark brown eyes, knowing I would agree to attend the ball. When I nodded, a slight smile spread across his face, matching the curve of his mustache above his giant black beard.

The ball is more than just a time for nobles to get together, boast about their wealth, and throw their single daughters at eligible bachelors. It is also a way to celebrate that we survived under such harsh conditions.

Stormvalla is the furthest kingdom in the north, high up in the Claw Mountains, a range of jagged peaks that separate the Snow Circle from the rest of Altheim. The kings and aristocracy are descendants of the Altorius clan, an ancient tribe of hunters who were the only ones able to survive up here.

We’ve done more than survive, though. Throughout the generations, we’ve built Stormvalla into a thriving kingdom, a huge source of pride for the people. Sky Citadel is our capital city and where the king’s castle is situated. It is here where Uncle Ildris is throwing his ball.

Since the castle is perched on the steep rock face of the first of the Claw Mountains—Mount Altras—everyone from miles away can see the lights while the sounds of laughter and music echo down the mountain, telling everyone that we conquered this land when no one else could, and that we are enjoying ourselves and our riches, too.

Lantern light hits the steel of my sword for a brief moment, sending a stab of light through the armory. I turn it to the other side and work on polishing the flat side of the blade.

Uncle Ildris wants me to attend the ball and hopefully find a bride. At thirty-six, it’s high time I do my duty and start a family, but I’m just not ready for that yet. My studies keep me busy most days.

How will I be able to concentrate with a wife and kids around me all day? My studies are my life. I don’t imagine I’ll want to give that up any time soon. Besides, I just haven’t met any ladies that I could see myself spending the rest of my life with.

I long for the days when men were men. When we would go out hunting, and we’d fight to protect the kingdom instead of dressing up like frilly goats and looking like fools prancing around the dance floor.

The door to the armory opens, spilling some of the light from the hall torches across the floor. I glance up and smirk. One of those frilly goats walks in.

Silas is dressed for court, with a shiny blue vest over a pair of black breeches. He grins then points at my sword as he closes the door.

“Something must be bothering you,” Silas says.

I glance back down at my sword and concentrate on my polishing efforts. “Why do you say that?”

Silas walks over and sits on a barrel near me. “Because the only time you give this much attention to a weapon is when you’re too upset to concentrate on your studies.”

He has a point, but I don’t tell him so.

Silas and I go way back. Although we’re not related, he’s like a brother to me—he and Rowan. The three of us are closer than most siblings.

We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft glide of the polishing cloth against my blade.

But Silas is too full of energy to be quiet for very long. He’s one of those people who seems to always be cheerful, which irritates me. He doesn’t take life seriously enough. Of course, he thinks I take it too seriously.

“What are you studying now?” Silas asks. He holds a hand out in front of him to inspect his fingernails.

“Ilem Isola,” I answer. “This year marks one hundred years since the disaster.”

Silas shakes his head. “Why are you so interested in that land? It’s just a deserted island. Everything there is dead.”

“But it didn’t use to be,” I argue. “It used to be the ruling seat of all the nations of Altheim.”

“Aye, until the emperor went crazy and the guild of sorcerers lost control of their magic and destroyed the kingdom and everything in it.” Silas pauses and delivers a mock shudder. “Thankfully, magic was banned then, and everyone has been much safer this past century.”

I don’t argue. Magic is very dangerous, especially when wielded by power-hungry rulers or magic-obsessed users. In fact, we really shouldn’t be talking about it. It’s considered taboo.

“So what about Ilem Isola are you studying?” Silas asks a minute later.

I shrug and take my sword to the wall of weapons, placing it gently in its place before returning to my seat.

“Its history, Silas. If we want to prevent ourselves from repeating past mistakes, the best way to do that is to be knowledgeable about what happened. Since it’s been a century since the disaster happened, now is as good a time as any to brush up on those facts.”

Silas shakes his head with a smile. “And have you learned anything new or useful since the last time you studied it?”

“Not really.” Silas knows me well. I never study a subject or topic just once. I re-read it several times because sometimes, I find clues or answers I missed the first time.

Silas chuckles and scoffs at me. “Such a scholar!”

I grab my tankard that I had set aside earlier and forgot about and fling it at him. Silas ducks, but the mug still glances off his shoulder.

“And you can be as irritating as a little brother,” I say.

Silas shrugs. “I aim to please.”

My snort echoes in the armory.

Silas stands and starts pacing the chamber with his endless energy. “I think I know what’s wrong with you,” he states. “It’s the upcoming ball, isn’t it?”

My deep frown is answer enough for him.

“I don’t understand why you hate them so much. I have so much fun! All the ladies dressed up in their best gowns, the food and dancing, the music, the ladies—”

“You said ‘ladies’ already.”

Silas grins. “It’s worth repeating.”

Silas is only twenty-eight and still thinks the goal of life is being in love. The man falls in and out of love so often it makes me dizzy.

“Well, the same reasons you look forward to these balls are the same reasons I can’t stand them,” I say. “You’ll feel the same way when you grow up.”

He sends me a scowl for the insult. “I just don’t get you and Rowan. You two don’t know how to enjoy the finer things in life. Rowan, I understand more. He wasn’t raised as a noble, so this is all a bit overwhelming for him.”

“More like Rowan is a warrior and doesn’t care for all the frills and nonsense,” I point out. “He’s probably looking for enemies around every corner and in every dark alcove.”

Silas laughs. “Aye, I’m sure he is.”

“Did you have a point when you decided to come in here and irritate me?” I ask.

He nods. “I’ve come to an important decision.”

It’s all I can do not to groan out loud. Silas doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he continues.

“I think I’m ready to get married.”

My eyebrows lift high on my forehead. “Well, who’s the lucky lady?”

“Have you heard of Corinna Blanchard?” Again, he doesn’t give me a chance to answer. “I hear she’s making her debut. With any luck, it will be love at first sight.”