Page 7 of Crown Prince's Mate

“Thank you, Gallien,” I managed, spitting blood onto the red sands.

“The readings given yesterday. The mineral fields wrap around sudden movements. Move slowly. Evenly.”

A sword glittered in the morning sun, lofted over the heads of the boys. I caught it, easily, gripping my hand around it. Through the boys, Titus strode forward. He was the only other one in this year of Academy who came close to my scores in physical subjects. Shorter, but broader than me, he was muscled even at his young age, his shaved black head the opposite of my golden locks I had before they were sheared on the first day. He’d taken two swords in the first exercise, and in his anger, he’d hit me with both.

I was about to thank him, when his eyes narrowed. “Not a word, princeling,” he growled out. He stood to my right, staring down the other boys, addressing them in his deep, booming voice. “Together, you can beat us. But whoever comes at us first, we’re going to break you down until you spend a week in the infirmary.” Rage simmered within him, a pent-up beast of a boy who respected my power, who chose to ally himself with the strongest, despite the bruises over my body.

He wanted to win.

“They are the only threat. If we don’t take them out first, then they will win,” said Lukas, a boy in the center of the crowd.He was haughty, with too-clever eyes, who I realized I had underestimated.

“Begin,” said Callix, leaving the arena to let us fight.

“Back!” yelled Gallien, and we shifted backwards. I copied their movements in the treacherous sands, sliding until our backs were against the wall. I could barely see out of my right eye, my arms sore and beaten, but I forced down the pain and let out a battle roar, daring any to come at us.

The other boys hesitated.

“Attack!” yelled Lukas, sliding forward, and, bolstered by his charge, the others slid forward, none of them wanting to back down. With a gleam in his eyes, Lukas slowed once he convinced the other boys, using them like a meat shield.

They came at us without unison. The first to get to us slid in, raising his blade, and Titus drove his blunted blade towards his face. He raised his sword instinctively to block the blow, and I seized my moment, sliding forward, swinging my blade against his feet. He stumbled, falling, and Titus slammed his blade against the back of his neck with a thunderous crack. The boy gasped out the word “stop,” and the red light coated him as he crawled out in shame.

We looked at the other boys. They saw the fire in our eyes, and they turned against each other, not wanting to challenge us, but not wanting to look like cowards, blades ringing out against each other as the fight roared on.

Four hours. First, the individual Aurelian boys were beaten, then the ones who had formed twos, until only the ones who had made triads were in the game. At the third hour, drenched in sweat, the only thing I knew pain and determination, and when I didn’t think I could go on, Gallien and Titus grew in my mind.

I marveled at it. I could feel them, two auras of their beings in my head, like burning suns, matching my exhaustion and determination, and I knew I couldn’t let them down. I couldsense their movements before they made them, I could cover them when they were left open, and we fought with instinct, cutting down our opponents, until only Lukas remained.

It was just him against the three of us. He grinned and spat out a tooth. I’d kept track of him during the fight. He always seemed to be one step ahead of everyone, forming quick alliances then breaking them.

He raised his hands. “Think, Gallien, think Titus. Let’s bring the prince down a peg. I’m no threat to you on the scoreboard,” he said, a gleam in his eyes, but I could see by his rueful smile that he knew it was no use, but he had to make the last-ditch attempt. It was in his nature.

We stalked forward, surrounding him. “Give in, Lukas. No reason to lose another tooth,” I gasped out.

“You’re right. You’re right,” he said, reaching to press his smart-watch to end the drill and kneeling on the ground in submission, when his wrist flicked. A rock, hidden in his palm, flew out, and careened off my watch before I could recoil. The red light covered me, and the three victors remained.

“End drill!” yelled Callix.

“You clever bastard,” I said, respect in my voice, shaking my head at Lukas.

“Aye, we’re all bastards, all but you,” he smiled.

“The victors. Gallien, Titus, and Lukas!” yelled Callix. The other boys were watching, laying in the sands groaning, others attended to by medics. Three were brought out on stretchers. They nodded, too tired to groan, and I raised my hand.

“Three cheers for Lukas, Gallien, and Titus!” I yelled out, my voice booming in the arena.

The boys yelled out in unison, tired but determined.

That evening, I sat with the other boys in the mess hall, while Gallien, Titus and Lukas had the seat of honor, right in front of the banquet, eating first, even before the men in their final year.They had their hands shook, congratulated, and I could feel the pride flowing through the Bond from my battle-brothers.

“You earned it,”I telepathed to them, and they grinned at me, awash in the thrill of victory.

When we went back to dormitories, my head was swimming. I couldn’t see out of my right eye, but I refused to go to the med-bay. As if by a hidden signal, one of the triple bunks was emptied, and me and my battle-brothers limped to it. I groaned as I slipped into bed. The other boys were bruised up, but when they looked at me, I saw not animosity but respect.

Lukas was hailed as the hero of the day for his cunning maneuver. He basked in it but then pointed to me.

“I might have won, but that royal cunt can take a real beating,” he said, and nods of approval followed.

After Academy, our year was split up, and I rose up in the ranks during my hundred years of service which for me, will never end. Once your century in the army is done, some Aurelians choose to laze their days away on Colossus. My triad will fight as long as the Aurelian army needs me, and it will always have need of me.

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