Jerrl bowed, “My Queen. Sorry for Carden. He's an idiot at the best of times, and he's not often at his best. Captain Carden, apologize.”
The captain gripped his sword tighter. He glowered and said nothing.
Discontent should be excised swiftly and efficiently, lest it spread. Now was a terrible time for rumors of an army divided.
But she wasn't just the Queen to these soldiers. She had been raised amongst them.
Unstrapping and tossing her thin blade, she held her arm out to the side. “I require a practice blade. Wood.”
The soldiers from the palace relaxed slightly. One of her guards handed her a wooden sword. She gave the stick a spin and strolled into the circle, leaving her guards behind.
Her eyes scanned the crowd. “Who else agrees with Captain Carden? I'm not here to punish you – that, I'll leave in your leader’s capable hands, if he so chooses. Instead, I have a proposal. Step forward, if you’re brave enough to back your words with actions.”
She noted those who frowned, who whispered to their neighbors, and those who stepped cautiously into the circle. Five. She could handle five.
To Jerrl, she murmured, “Stand back.”
He moved away. She spun her blade again, drawing a slow circle in the air. “I believe the usual method of settling disputes is to… take it outside, so to speak. Get it out of our systems. A spar, if you like.”
Her gaze surveyed the rebel side. She lifted her sword and slid one foot backward. “All five of you, and your Captain. Live blades. Come at me. No one is to interfere!”
Live steel against wood. She would need to turn or dodge every attack. A single hard cut could go right through her stick. The weight was off, too. Light. They wore armor. Her strikes wouldn't be painless, but forcing them to yield would be difficult. One would have been an interesting challenge. Six was foolish.
Jerome was going to blockade her in her room and never let her out.
A grin pulled at her lips.
Captain Carden raised his brow. “I'm to believe assaulting the Queen won't earn me a quick execution?”
She didn't miss the glint in his eyes as he studied her weapon and calculated the odds. “You've been here long enough, you should know the rules. No killing. No maiming. Otherwise, work it out, soldier. Right now, in this circle, I'm no more thananother fighter. This is your only chance.Attack me,you dull bastard.”
That did it. He snarled and raised his sword. “You heard her. Give the lady what she wants!”
Five figures spread out around her. They looked stable on their feet. Only the captain was drunk. Two went behind her. She listened to the shifting of their boots. The two to her left were uncertain. A brown-haired woman guarded the captain’s left.
At least they didn't have shields. Formation drills should include shields, but they were sparring today.
Yes, when Jerome told her father what she'd gotten herself into, she could say that at least they didn't have shields.
Vern was going to murder her, too.
Carden lunged.
The floor of the training circles was packed dirt. Certain spots were gritty enough that a drunk man might lose his footing. But humiliating them wouldn't help. Respect was earned. This was going to hurt.
She stepped to the side, batting away his weapon. One of the soldiers behind her moved closer, as did a man to her left. Anais abruptly changed direction, cutting at the woman and letting the other two collide.
But they didn't. They followed, making her alter her path again. Two swords swung at her from each side. She smacked them in quick succession, flicking her gaze across all of her opponents as the two facing her leaped back.
This group had worked together before.
A thrill raced down her spine. She let her lips curve and lifted her free hand, twitching her fingers in a come-hither gesture.
Carden growled and charged.
Parry. Duck. Lean back and recenter. There was a rhythm to fighting, guided by instinct and muscle memory. A second of hesitation was a second too long. Thinking could get her killed.
Not killing them was the hardest part. They left openings, Carden especially, but she pulled strikes that would have broken ribs, punctured lungs, snapped a wrist. She hadn't fought with a wooden blade for a while. Years.
