Page 6 of Slippers and Thorns
“Sorry,” he said, dragging another hand through his hair and releasing a long exhale.
Justin studied him. “You’ve been working too hard again. You should skip the meeting with Lord Humphrey this afternoon.”
“How do you know I’m—” Coming to a stop, Michael narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Wait. Aren’tyousupposed to be in class right now? Where’s Hudson?”
A sly grin crept across Justin’s face. “Searching for his chalkboard.”
“You…” Michael let his head fall back, exasperated. “Where is it?”
“What makes you thinkIknow where it is?”
“Justin,” he said wearily, “If you don’t put it back immediately, I’ll tell Father.”
The look of betrayal on his brother’s face was almost comical. “You wouldn’t!”
“Try me.”
For a few moments, Justin looked like he might argue, but then his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Fine,” he huffed.
Michael tracked his brother’s path with his eyes until he rounded the corner. The nine-year difference between the two of them sometimes made him feel more like a parent than an older sibling. Had he been that irresponsible as a teenager?
Shaking his head in disbelief at Justin’s antics, Michael headed to his meeting with the economic advisor. The corner of his mouth quirked up, though, and his steps were lighter than they had been before Justin showed up.
“Too slow!” Michael taunted, a grin on his face as he danced out of the way.
His opponent grunted and pulled back, throwing up his sword to parry Michael’s answering thrust. The defense was weak, barely preventing a hit.
“Sloppy, Your Highness,” a familiar voice called from the sidelines. “You should have had him with that one.”
Michael let his smile grow wider, shaking his head slightly at the critique. “I’ll fight you next, if you like, Oliver,” he replied, barely breathing hard. “Then you can see for yourself how sloppy I am.”
“I respectfully decline. I would not wish to embarrass you in front of the others.”
Rather than respond, Michael knocked back his opponent’s sword, feinted a thrust to the right, then swung his sword to the left, pulling back at the last moment to lightly tap the man on the side of the neck with the flat of his blade. “Hit.”
“A good fight, Your Highness,” the man acknowledged, giving a slight nod as his chest heaved. “Thank you for the honor.”
“No, thank you for the practice,” Michael replied smoothly. “Well done.”
Sheathing his sword, he stepped out of the practice ring. He accepted the rag Oliver held out to him and wiped it across his forehead, mopping up the bit of sweat beaded there. The middle-aged guard folded his arms across his chest and watched Michael with a stoic expression, only the slightest lift to his left eyebrow betraying his amusement.
“Something to say, Oliver?” Michael asked lightly. He tossed the rag in a bin already half-full of other sweaty rags and sauntered towards the edge of the training yard.
“I believe I already said it,” Oliver said. “You were sloppy.”
Michael clicked his tongue. “Yet you refused to instruct me yourself in a match. Clearly, you fear setting yourself against my skill.”
He kept his face straight as he watched the older man out of the corner of his eye. Oliver’s left eyebrow raised another notch. Perhaps he shouldn’t needle the poor man, but after twenty-six years of having Oliver trailing him around, first as a junior personal guard and now as the captain of his guard, his black-haired shadow was as much friend and pseudo-father as protector.
“Believe what you want to believe. But remember who taught you, little one.”
“As if you didn’t surpass your own master,” Michael said smugly. “Someday, you’ll have to fight me again, and when that day comes…well, you’ll have to admit the truth, my friend.”
Oliver shook his head slightly, but other than another slight lift to his eyebrow, he made no response.
“I was surprised to find you in the training yard,” the guard said after a few minutes. “I thought you had planned to take Princess Arabella on a walk in the gardens this afternoon.”
Running a hand through his hair, Michael looked away. “I did, but that was before Lord Humphrey caught me on my way to train. He made me late, and now I barely have time to clean up before I meet with the blacksmith guild about the proposed trade law.”
