The following is an original work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book/story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The following is intended for mature audiences only.
Chapter 14
Sweat dripping down my brow, I forced my lungs to fill to capacity. More so to steady myself than the actual need for air. At this point, breathing had become optional. An option I chose to forgo.
Tightening my grip on the hilt of the sword, I watched his shoulders. Trying to ignore the twitching at the corners of his mouth, the glint of amusement in his eyes.
As he raised his sword and moved forward, I stepped into him. Our blades met with a loud clash of metal. Taking a step back, pivoting away, I brought my blade down in a wide arc.
Waiting patiently, he stood, allowing me to complete my planned maneuver. I knew he did this so he could take me off guard. Make me believe that I was winning instead of simply feeding his ego. He was getting too cocksure by his brandished ego.
Undeterred, I released the sword with one hand, feigning an exhausted struggle. Well, the struggle part was fake, the exhaustion was evident dripping down my blotchy cheeks.
A triumphant smile spread across my face as he was met with a dagger to the throat as my sword came to rest gently atop his shoulder, barely grazing the exposed skin of his neck. A much different outcome than the one he had envisioned.
Pride blossomed across Finneck’s face bright enough to almost cover the surprise in his eyes. Carefully, he backed away from my dull practice blades and sheathed his own. No doubt thanking the gods he had vetoed my earlier request to upgrade our training weapons to shifran blades.
“Well played, Princess,” admitted Finneck. Turning his back to me before walking to grabbing a skin of water.
Wiping sweat from my face, I relished the feeling of being without my mask. Just over five decades ago that mask became like another appendage to me. A piece of my identity. The only part anyone seemed to notice anymore.
I had unofficially become the Faceless Princess of the Eildun. The name spoken only in hushed tones never bothered me. The looks no one thought I noticed. Eyes digging into the mask as they tried to remember what I looked like, imagining something they had probably never seen.
None of it bothered me. Over time.
I stopped hoping, long ago, that at any time during my and Finneck’s training sessions someone, anyone, would accidentally come through the door an see my face. Maybe they would stop and wonder who I was. Perhaps thinking I was Finneck’s protégé vying for rank in the guard. Of the first female to break into his elite unit of guards, the Dreche. Maybe, just maybe, that someone would look upon my face and have a flicker of recognition that would be lost when they couldn’t place the memory. But that memory still would have been there, nonetheless.
Fifty years ago Finneck agreed to began training me in basic self-defense. That quickly morphed into wanting learn anything and everything. First four years of his teaching was known to only the two of us. And most likely one or two of the Dreche.
For the first few years of father-sanctioned-training, Finneck was given use of one room and one room only. Dreche would roam the halls surrounding our makeshift training room buried deep within the castle. One of the many conditions that allowed the Captain of the Guard to teach the Faceless Princess the art of self-defense.
A door, complete with multiple locks that had only one key, was another condition. That became necessary when I insisted on training sans mask. One of the only times I’ve stood up to my father. I didn’t dare tell him I would train equally with the mask as I did without. Learning to maneuver with visual impairment had its advantages. Despite the fact I was forbidden to use anything I learned except in absolutely dire situations, Finneck insisted.
After a few decades security was not as stringent. Now, only one guard, never any Dreche, stood at either end of the hallway with the instruction that only one man was allowed to pass when the room was occupied – the king himself. Even Khayin was denied access to both mine and Finneck’s relief.
I couldn’t imagine the rumors that all this secrecy spared amongst the guard. A trusted detail – guarding a door that only the captain and king were granted access at certain times. No one ever saw me enter or leave this room. Mask or no mask.
Especially since there was still a very exclusive list of names that was allowed to see my bare face. A list that had only changed by one name.
When Herra had died at the age of eighty-seven, it took me almost two months before resembling anything beyond an emotional puddle. Having had at least three meals a week with my aging friend during the decade she had officially retired from my service. Only allowed to do so since her granddaughter, Marita, was able to take her place.
Her death was none the easier to endure. Immortality was severely overrated.
“Are you prepared for tomorrow?” Finneck asked.
Prepared? What was there to prepare? I scoffed to myself. Other than a respectable menu, strategically placed seating in a diplomatically chosen setting, appropriate sleeping arrangements, anticipating every need to a tea in advance. Other than that? Nothing!
That’s what I wanted to say. But Finneck already knew there was no Eildun Queen to handle the affairs not deemed appropriate enough to sully the king’s agenda. So, instead, I said, “They come, they eat, they throw their fertility in our faces, and then they leave. I’m prepared.”
“Try opening with that. I’m sure King Aesiri would reward you with whatever it is you desire, Princess,” Finneck offered with a mocking bow.
“Why else would they come?” I asked with a shrug.
“King Basileus and his family sailed into the port at Cala. Traveling to Eitiris is less of a courtesy and more of an obligation for usage of one of our ports since the one at Alyasar was damaged in a storm. They just happen to have a new addition to their family,” stated Finneck as he walked over to me.
“With the excuse of wanting to introduce us to the newest prince.” I didn’t even try to hide the sneer in my tone.
“It’s not an excuse, Zahrra.”
“It’s not an acceptable farce either,” I mocked. “Did my father take me to Terrenuum after I was born?” I didn’t know why I asked. The words manifested before I realized I was thinking them. As usual, my mouth stole a thought and threw it out into the world without my permission.
“No,” he answered softly. Neither of us needed to voice the reason. My father had been deep in mourning, as was the rest of the kingdom, shortly after my birth.
Settling himself next to me on the bench, Finneck stared out over the silent room. To the right, a great selection of training weapons lined the walls, some more deadly than others. Ranging from wooden to deadly shifran.
Strengthening equipment sat at the far end, just beyond the marked sparring ring we had been using.
“The Fae royal family will only be here for three days before continuing onto Alyasar. You must only sit through one dinner with them and two council meetings with King Basileus and Nostrec,” Finneck said moving past the topic of my mother.
Referring to the prince in such a familiar sense was either a slip or Finneck’s subtle way of showing his disdain. Either way, I tucked that tidbit away for another time.
“That’s three days without training, Finn. Without some way to release my frustrations I’m liable to punch a prince in the face. Any bets on which one it will be?” I asked sardonically.
“Just make sure it’s not the baby. That might be frowned upon, even by the Fae,” Finneck said with a seriousness only someone who couldn’t care less could pull off.
Just like I couldn’t stop the smile from overtaking my lips. It was the captain’s dry wit and outward lack of humor that I appreciated the most. But he was right, that arrogant ass. It was only a few appearances that I had to endure. Hopefully none as intense as the day I received my mask. Thinking about that night caused reactions I was not comfortable confronting. Even all these years later.
Several decades had morphed the memory of the ball after the Masking Ceremony into something heavy as it weighed on my thoughts from time to time. The image of Prince Injaenus elicited an array of emotions as he appeared in my memory. Sometimes I would replay our dance or his eyes on me during the ceremony. The feeling of his power would become awash with distrust bordering on hatred. Other times the same memories would place pressure on my chest, making it hard to breathe. An excitement I would adamantly deny sped the rhythm of my heart.
Clearing his throat, Finneck frowned. “Six days.”
“Six days what?” I asked breaking from my thoughts. “They’re not staying for six days, right?” I asked wide-eyed.
“Six days without training,” informed Finneck, making sure to continue before my mouth verbalized what my face most certainly was expressing. “King Aesiri has asked that I and the Dreche escort the royal family to the border.”
I wanted to point out that it was only one day’s ride to get to the Alyasar border in the worst conditions. It shouldn’t take them another two before returning. And to send the Dreche? What wasn’t he telling me?
Shaking skepticism from my thoughts, I quickly reconsidered my annoyance. Three days to travel to Alyasar, okay. I’ve never traveled with an infant since I was one. Was it really that big a hindrance or were the Fae simply being dramatic?
“Fine, I’ll train by myself,” I proclaimed, hardening my resolve to not let the Fae tarnish everything.
“This room will be locked.” Raising his hands in surrender, Finneck turned to face me, knowing exactly what would read on my face. “None of this was my doing, Zahrra. I’m simply following orders.”
Maybe I would punch a captain in the face before a prince even arrived. “Next time follow orders to march right off the Volvenda Cliffs,” I growled, all my resolve dissipating into entitled anger. Grabbing my mask, wrapping a towel around it, I stormed from the room and down the hall toward one of the guards.
