She sniffed hard, pushing him away where his arm still lay across her belly, and Luka scooted off to the side, his ears burning.
“You don’t need to lie to make me feel better,” Rakhmonova said heavily. “I know that in a real duel, my lack of magic would have me at a disadvantage.” She swallowed hard, as if it brought her pain. “I know you went easy on me.”
Luka opened his mouth, and closed it again, unsure of what to say. He’d always wondered the same thing himself, at every sparring session, every lesson with his sword master as a boy, at every practice match and evaluation at the academy—was his opponent going easy on him because he was a prince of the realm?
Was he winning by default, or was it truly a matter of skill?
“I didn’t go easy on you,” he muttered finally. He can put that worry to rest for her, at least. “I gave it all I had. There are enough times that a mage has had to fight when his magic is exhausted.” He shrugged. “If I had to depend on my magic all the time, I would never have bothered to learn the sword.”
In truth, he had picked up the sword because it was his father’s preferred weapon, and one in which the Crown Princess specialized. Even as a child, he’d wanted to prove that he was as good as her.
Luka sighed, dropping his head back against the dirt below him. His eyes wanted to slip closed, after all the excitement of last night, with the incident with Rakhmonova, and then what had followed with Volkov…
“I didn’t go easy on you, either,” Rakhmonova said suddenly, and he turned his head to look at her. She flashed him a tired smile, and Luka realized that it was the first genuine smile he has ever seen from her. “You really are as talented as they say.” She shrugged. “It isn’t just nepotism, no matter what I said earlier.”
He swallowed and nodded back at her in thanks.
They lay there for a moment more in silence, before Luka snapped his fingers and muttered a mage incantation under his breath. Maya gasped in surprise as the earth beneath them rose up, setting them on their feet in a gentle embrace.
She looked at him, stars in her eyes, before she shook her head. “That was amazing,” she said, and now Luka could hear the envy in her voice.
Luka shrugged uncomfortably. As they picked up their swords and walked back to their dorms, he asked, before he can think better of it: “How come you have no magic? Is Nikolai von Rakhmonov the same?”
Rakhmonova turned a bitter smile toward him. “My brother got my father’s magic,” she said with a shrug, “while I got my mother’s smarts.” She laughed self-deprecatingly. “Not the best exchange, but it is what it is.”
“Well, Lady von Rakhmonova must be wise indeed,” Luka said, trying to remember the best of his court manners. The he sighed, and said in a low voice, “You have nearly always bested me when it came to the physical sciences.”
Rakhmonova turned to him, a frown on her face. “But you have tied with me on top marks in all subjects. Even the sciences.”
Luka shook his head, unsure why he was confessing to the imperfections he had always sought to hide. But Rakhmonova has been honest with him about her magic, and he can pay her the same honor.
“It has always been an uphill battle for me with the sciences,” he said ruefully. “I spend nearly half the night before every exam poring over my notes, only just managing to tie for the top marks with you. But for you…” He shrugged. “I’ve seen you in class. It’seasyfor you.”
Rakhmonova shrugged as well, flushing under the bruise that marred one of her cheeks. “I find it fascinating.”
“Truly?”
“The armaments and equipment that make up our military are the reason for our continued success in battle. It astounds me that the academy continues to emphasize physical strength over weaponry and firearms.” She hufffed out a laugh. “You wouldn’t meet the general of an opposing force in single combat with a sword, would you?”
Put like that, it sounded silly. Luka chuckled, and Rakhmonova looked over at him with a surprised smile.
“Is that what you do when we are at mage class? Volkov has always hinted that your studies are ‘more tedious’ than his, in his words, but I always thought you were studying…” he waved a hand, “languages, or something.”
“Whyever did you think that, Your Highness?” Rakhmonova asked, her voice frosty. “Did you think I was too dumb to study anything else? Because all that a woman can be concerned about is mere chatter?”
Luka frowned. “You know that is not true. Mysisteris Crown Princess, after all. I well know what women are capable of achieving.” He sighed. “I simply asked because I was aware that Baron von Rakhmonov was an ambassador, and I thought you might wish to follow in his footsteps.” He cut his eyes at Rakhmonova. “It was how he met the Lady von Rakhmonov, was it not?”
Rakhmonova blinked. “I didn’t know you knew my parents.”
Luka shrugged. “I’ve seen your father at court sometimes.”
“No,” Rakhmonova said softly after a beat. “I have no wish to follow in my parents’ footsteps.”
There was a wealth of pain in her statement, and Luka frowned, about to question her further, when she drew up short, in a replay of the day before.
“Here is my dorm.” She turned to him, and bowed her head. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”
“Luka.”
