Page 3 of Crimson Kingdom

Seven weeks passed since the day I left, and more proposals came in. From Socair. From Lochlann. Rionne seemed to be the only one content to ignore my very eligible hand.

Rionne, and Clan Bear, of course.

It made sense, since Mamá had been reluctantly arranging my marriage right around the time Davin and I went down the tunnels.

Finally, the Council insisted on a welcoming home ball. A re-entry to society. Avani came out of mourning to stand at my side in solidarity, and together we prepared for the arduous event.

At least we were together, though. All of us.

At least I was home.

At least I had finally managed to banish the sardonic voice that never seemed to stop commenting in my head.

At least…that’s what I told myself.

CHAPTERONE

Things were going about as well as could be expected here in Lochlann. Which was to say, mediocre at best.

But at least I still had sparring.

I took another measured breath and blocked several hits from Avani’s sparring sword.

We had been at this for the better part of an hour, but the bitter feeling of last night’s nightmares still hadn’t faded.

My sister brought her sword down again, this time a little harder than before, and I stumbled back from the impact. She had the advantage of my mother’s build, several inches taller than I was with slightly broader shoulders.

Still, I should have been able to counter that hit.

“Fia would say you’re babying those scars, little sister.” She gave me a knowing look, and I rolled my eyes.

“How do you know I wasn’t just taking it easy on you?” I asked, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Steadying myself, I took up the offensive fighting position that Fia had taught us, and Avani’s emerald eyes lit up with wry amusement.

“Well then, by all means, Row, don’t hold back on my acc--” She cut off as I threw myself at her in a flurry of movements.

A surprised laugh escaped her as she met my sword, blow for blow.

The movements did, in fact, tug at the tight skin on my back. The thirteen scars that were a constant reminder of my time in Socair.

Avani wasn’t wrong. I had been babying my scars, both the visible and invisible ones.

It had been two months since I left Socair, and still, nothing but sleepless nights plagued by images of soulless emerald eyes and the cracking sound of a whip.

Which was only marginally less appealing than the way I spent my days, surrounded by whispers and rumors about how the wayward princess had set Lochlann on another path for war.

But it was fine.

Iwas fine.

My sister spun out of reach of my sword, forcing me to trip forward with my momentum, nearly crashing into the stone walls of the empty training room. She let out an arrogant chuckle, goading me.

But if I had learned anything in my time as a prisoner, it was how to play this waiting game.

Instead of going on the offensive, I waited for her to come toward me so I could feint to the side. As soon as she swerved, I took advantage of the angle to aim a powerful blow. After her last move, she wouldn’t be expecting it.

My sword came down hard against hers, sending the blade flying from her hand.

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