Page 11 of Of Song and Scepter
With a flick of my tail, I attack, swinging my trident. Nara lifts hers to meet mine with a dull clash. She presses against my weapon, knocking me off balance. I swim back a pace, adjusting my grip and refocusing my aim. But Nara is quick. She wastes no time, stabbing at my open side. When the tines brush the bare skin of my chest, she withdraws.
“Contact,” she says. “Your Highness is off his game this evening.”
My gills flutter in irritation. “Again.” I lift my trident and reassume my position. My mind is restless—too restless. I’m eager to find the sweet rhythm of exertion, swinging my tridentagain and again. The more we stop to talk, the longer it’ll take to get me out of my head.
She quirks her mouth knowingly. “Eager to meet your new queenie?”
I roll my shoulders, and the tension eases for a moment. My body is wound tight like a lyre, ready to snap.
“Something like that,” I say.
“You have a few days yet to cry about it. My squadron leaves bright and early tomorrow morning, and it’ll be three days before we bring her home.”
“Do me a favor? If she’s a complete nightmare, just leave her there.”
Nara laughs. The practicing soldiers turn to look in her direction, their faces bewildered and longing. As if the males could change her gender preference with an intense enough ogle.
“Oy!” I shout at them, and they avert their eyes.
She smirks. “Can’t leave her, sorry. Orders from the queen and all.”
“A prince can dream.” I point my trident at her. “Again.”
She wiggles her eyebrows, ignoring my request. “If you don’t like her, be sure to introduce her to me personally before you send her back to the Abyss. I’ve heard the dark-dwellers are a prickly lot, and I wouldn’t mind expanding my repertoire.”
“She’s a magic-wielding royal. She won’t be prickly.”
She frowns, running a hand over her hair. “That’s a shame.”
Taking advantage of her distraction, I bring my trident down. Nara lifts hers without flinching.
“You think you have a choice?” she chides. “Even if she does have spines?”
We take turns striking, and I push my advantage, backing her toward the crowd of fighting pairs behind us. The sounds of ourspar blend with the clash of metal from the other soldiers, the noise ricocheting off the curved walls of the arena.
“This is my choice. I need to secure a queen.”
She ducks my hit, then darts around me. Before I can twist to face her, her trident’s tines graze the skin of my back.
“Contact. And you’re a terrible liar.”
“This is my choice,” I repeat, louder, as if raising my voice might make it true. The words seem hollow, regardless of how many times I utter them. Nara lifts an eyebrow. “Again,” I growl, launching into another attack.
The clash of whitesteel ripples through the water, and we fall into our easy rhythm at last. My muscles heat and my body slowly begins to unwind, settling into the comfortable pattern of movement. Even then, she easily overpowers me. With her decades of practice in body-movement fighting, I’m still burdened by my habitual reliance on magic. Most magic-wielders don’t train in the arts of hand-to-fin combat, relying solely on their control of the Voice. But as the crown prince and sole heir to the Coral Throne, it’s my duty to be better. To master myself in every way possible. I will be worthy of the throne when it’s mine. I’ve worked my entire life to make sure of it.
But when Nara lands the tenth hit, I lose my resolve. She swings at me, and I tap into the energy that swirls in my gut, letting out a quiet tune. Dark green magic bursts from my lips, and I grasp Nara’s trident with my tendrils of sound, yanking her off balance to land a hit to her stomach.
“Contact,” I say.
“Where’s your honor?” She shakes her head, the corner of her mouth curling in a smile.
“I have none,” I say, mirroring her smirk.
“That’s your worst lie yet today.” She sheathes her trident in the holster between her shoulder blades and crosses her arms. “Hey, you okay?”
“Have to be.”
She grimaces. “Well, you know where to find me.”
