Viviana felt a cold knot of dread tighten in her stomach at Lilliana's impulsive declaration. She cleared her throat, forcing a light, nervous laugh. "Your Highness," she began, sinking into a deep curtsy towards Prince Dominic and Lord Theodore, her mind racing to mitigate the damage. "Please! Forgive my princess's… enthusiastic and perhaps slightly exaggerated words! Her temper, you see, sometimes outpaces her discretion. She means well, truly."
She rose, attempting a self-deprecating smile. "I am but a mere novice in the art of swordsmanship, Your Highness," she directed at Dominic, her voice carefully modulated to sound humble and slightly embarrassed. "Truly, an amateur. I learned a little, a few basic stances and parries, mostly for amusement and light exercise when I was in Tobit. Her Highness, Princess Lilliana, is correct in that I would sometimes accompany her to observe the royal guard training. Captain Albert , a kind man and the head of her father's guard, would occasionally indulge my curiosity by showing me a simple disarming maneuver or two, to pass the time. Nothing more substantial, I assure you. Certainly not enough to teach your disciplined recruits anything of value!"
She reached for Lilliana's arm, intending to gently pull her away. "Please forgive Her Highness's spirited outburst. She meant no disrespect by it. We shall, of course, take our leave immediately and trouble your important training session no further with our presence."
"Wait," Prince Dominic's voice cut through her attempt at a graceful retreat, as cold and authoritative as the clang of steel. He didn't look at Viviana. Instead, his piercing blue gaze was fixed on Lilliana, a dangerous, almost predatory glint sparking within their depths. A slow, calculating smile that did not reach his eyes began to spread across his lips.
"A most fascinating claim, Princess Lilliana," he said, his voice deceptively smooth. "Your lady-in-waiting possesses, as you so passionately stated, a 'vast and impressive knowledge of the sword,' does she? Enough, perhaps, to teach my less experienced recruits a thing or two?"
Lilliana, caught up in her own righteous anger and perhaps a little intimidated by Dominic's sudden focus, merely lifted her chin defiantly. "She is far more skilled than she lets on, Your Highness!"
Dominic's smile widened, becoming even more unsettling. "Excellent. Then let's make this… interesting. A friendly wager between future family, shall we say?" He paused, letting the tension build. "I will bring forward one of my newer recruits, a young man who, like your Lady Viviana, is a novice, much like she so modestly claims to be."
He gestured vaguely towards the recruits, who had all stopped their drills and were now watching the unfolding drama with undisguised curiosity.
"Your Lady Viviana will spar with him," Dominic continued, his voice like silk wrapped around steel. "The first to draw blood – even a mere scratch, mind you, enough to break the skin – on their opponent, wins. If your Lady Viviana sustains so much as a single, tiny scratch, she, and therefore you, Princess Lilliana, will lose. And if you lose," his gaze on Lilliana intensified, "you will owe me a favor. Any favor I choose to name, at any time I choose to call it in. It could be something small, or something… significant." The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air.
"However," he went on, a slight, challenging tilt to his head, "if my recruit is the one to sustain a scratch first, then I shall be the one to lose. And in that event, I will grant you, Princess Lilliana, whatever single wish or boon you desire that is within my power as Crown Prince of Eldoria to grant. A new string of pearls? A prize stallion from my stables? Perhaps even," he added, his eyes glinting, "my solemn promise to attend every tedious state dinner for a full month without complaint? Whatever you desire. What do you say, Princess? Deal?"
Viviana held her breath, silently praying Lilliana would see the trap. But Lilliana, her pride stung by Dominic's earlier dismissal and fueled by an unwavering, if currently misguided, belief in Viviana, met his challenging gaze. Perhaps the allure of winning a boon from the arrogant Prince was too tempting.
"Deal!" Lilliana declared, her voice clear and surprisingly firm, though Viviana saw the slight tremor in her hands.
Dominic's smile became one of pure, cold triumph. "Excellent. It is settled then." He turned, his eyes briefly flicking over Viviana with an unreadable expression.
Viviana's heart sank. A favor? Any favor he chooses? Oh, Lily, you impulsive, foolhardy girl! What have you agreed to? He isn't doing this for sport. He's testing me. He suspects something, and this is his way of flushing it out. Or he's simply a cruel man who enjoys watching others squirm, and he fully expects me to lose spectacularly, thus putting you in his debt.
Prince Dominic was already issuing orders, his voice crisp and commanding. "Lord Theodore, kindly escort Her Highness, Princess Lilliana, to the viewing platform. She will need a clear vantage point to witness her lady's… performance. Recruits, clear the central sparring circle immediately! Matron Helga will no doubt faint if she sees blood on the practice leathers, so fetch a set of the men's older, darker training attire for Lady Viviana. Joran! Front and center!"
A young recruit, the same Joran whom Dominic had been drilling earlier on his grip, stepped forward, looking both nervous and immensely proud to have been chosen.
Viviana was led away by an older guardsman to a small, curtained-off alcove near the armory tent. He handed her a bundle of clothes: a loose-fitting linen undershirt, dark, close-fitting breeches, and soft leather boots that laced up to mid-calf. It was practical, allowing for a full range of movement, but it was undeniably men's attire. As she quickly changed, she could hear the murmur of the recruits outside. She efficiently packed her dark curls into a tight, no-nonsense bun at the nape of her neck, a few stubborn tendrils escaping to frame her face.
When she stepped back into the arena, a hush fell over the watching recruits, quickly followed by a wave of subdued murmurs and appreciative, if surprised, glances. The training attire, so different from her courtly gowns, somehow accentuated the lean strength of her frame, the determined set of her jaw. She looked… unexpectedly formidable. Or perhaps, some thought, just strikingly beautiful in a way they hadn't anticipated.
Dominic's sharp voice cut through the whispers. "Silence! This is a serious contest of arms, not a village fair for gawking!" His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Viviana's appearance, but his expression remained impassive. "Recruit Joran," he commanded. The young man stepped forward, his face pale but resolute.
Dominic addressed them both, his voice carrying clearly across the now-silent arena. "The rules are simple, and they are absolute. Lady Viviana, Recruit Joran. You will spar. The first combatant to draw blood from their opponent – a visible scratch that breaks the skin, however minor – is the winner, and the contest ends immediately. Any part of the body is a valid target. Yielding is not an option for this contest; it will continue until blood is drawn. Do you both understand these terms?"
Joran, swallowing hard, nodded eagerly. "Yes, Your Highness!"
Viviana nodded slowly, her mind racing, her outward expression carefully neutral. "I understand, Your Highness."
Dominic allowed another of those cold, unsettling smiles to touch his lips. Viviana watched him, a knot of suspicion tightening within her. "What is he truly planning? This elaborate setup, the public spectacle, the high stakes… He fully expects me to lose. He wants me to lose. Or perhaps, he simply wants to see exactly what I can do, to confirm his growing suspicions. He wants me to win."
He then gestured with a sweep of his hand towards a weapon rack laden with swords, axes, maces, and daggers. "Now," he declared, his voice ringing with a finality that sent a shiver down Viviana's spine, "pick your weapons."
Viviana's eyes widened almost immediately. "Your Highness…" she began, her voice carefully controlled, betraying none of the sudden lurch in her stomach. "Are we to understand that we are to use… real weapons? Not blunted, tipped practice blades?"
Dominic's reply was as cold and hard as the steel on the rack. "This is not a playful training session for your amusement, Lady Viviana. This is a contest of skill, a formal challenge with a significant wager at stake. Yes. You will use live steel."
Recruit Joran, looking even paler now but clearly trying to appear brave before his Prince and his fellow soldiers, stepped towards the rack. After a moment's hesitation, he selected a standard infantry short sword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight.
Viviana's gaze swept over the array of weapons. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, quickly dismissed the heavier swords and axes. Then, they landed on a pair of perfectly balanced, wickedly sharp twin daggers nestled in a leather sheath. They were fighting daggers, designed for speed, precision, and deadly effect in close quarters. Ideal for her particular style of fighting – fast, agile, and lethal.
She reached out and took them, the cool steel a familiar, almost comforting weight in her hands. She thought to herself. "How do I get myself out of this impossible mess without revealing the full extent of my skill, yet still ensure poor, impulsive Lily doesn't end up owing this cold-hearted, manipulative Prince a favor she cannot afford to repay?"