Chapter 18

Another sword stops her blade inches before it separates my head from my neck.

It’s not Balthasar’s sword.

Judica screams in Edam’s face. “How dare you!”

“This is a training session, Judica, not a duel. You’re not supposed to kill anyone.” Edam pushes back with his blade playfully and Judica steps back, but the glare she gives him is not forgiving.

He leans over me and offers me his hand. I knock it away because after that, I need to stand on my own. I inhale deeply and take the opportunity to heal all the slices and nicks my body hasn’t finished repairing. I wipe my hands, slicked with sweat and blood, on the remnants of my tattered jeans. I focus on my knee next, bringing the shards of bone together slowly and repairing the ligaments so it will hold my weight. While I heal, Judica cleans her blade dispassionately, not looking at all bothered that she nearly cleaved my head from my body.

Balthasar finally speaks, spluttering a little as he does. “I certainly hope you were planning to stop your blade, Judica. You certainly knew this was a training session.”

Judica smiles. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“What’s your game here?” Edam stares at Judica, and cocks his head to the side, probably listening like I am to her smooth, steady heartbeat. She’s completely calm, non-plussed. My blood runs cold. Mom wants me to take the throne from her? Or even worse, share it with her? She almost beheaded me, and she’s not even agitated.

Judica glares at Edam, a look I’m familiar with, and says, “I wanted her to see how unprepared she is for an actual fight.” She laughs and the sound makes the hairs on my arm stand on end. “Not that she needs the lesson from what I hear. Beaten by a half-human.” She spits on the ground.

“I think that’s enough sparring for today.” Edam grits his teeth and crosses his arms.

He and Judica are locked in some kind of unspoken conversation. It upsets me in a way I’d rather not study.

Balthasar interrupts them, which I appreciate. “That’s not your call yet, my boy. You may instruct the rest of the men, but I’m still the Security Chief last I checked, which means I’m the only one who manages the Heir’s training.”

Edam blushes and inclines his head slightly. “My apologies, Sir.”

Balthasar’s steely gray eyes take in my state of bloodiness and soften just a hair. “Insubordinate or not, Edam’s right, Judica. I think you’d better call it a day.”

Except I can’t stop, not now, not after she’s made fun of everything Mom taught me, and then proven her words by practically ending me. Judica can’t get away with calling Mom old, outdated, and past her prime. And as much as I don’t want to be here—even Mom only wants me as Heir because some rock reacted to me—I need to improve, and if I walk away like I want to, I’ll never be anything but the victim everyone sees when they look at me.

Surely if Mom chose to train me in melodics she had a reason for it. There must be some value to my training and abilities.

“No.” My voice wavers and my stomach ties in knots, but I remain firm.

“No?” Judica scoffs. “You’re not done? That wasn’t painful enough for you? I didn’t realize you were a sadomasochist.”

I raise my sword arm and turn to Balthasar. “She hasn’t defeated me. We’ll go again. On your mark.”

This time, when he claps, I’m ready for it. I bring my sword arm back with as much enthusiasm as Judica. I was too busy the first time to listen for it, to feel the rhythm of the fight.

I feel it now.

When Judica attacks me, I hear triads, sharp, clear, and defined. I defend with a sweeping scale, ready for her. She may not know melodics, and we may be dancing without music, but she moves to her own song. Her melodic line’s choppy and confused. I breathe through my nose and monitor her movements until I sense the best melody for my attack. As I watch her jumping around, a pattern emerges and my avenue becomes clear. I begin with a simple run. A parry, a swipe, a jab. And then I show Judica just what our mom taught me. An arpeggio. An aria. Suddenly, she’s the one blocking, running, and backing up. I rage. I rail. She cowers, and I revel in it.

Melodics are dead? Eat my blade, Judica.

She almost does. I slide under her block and smash her toe with the heel of my boot. She winces and I slam the flat of my blade into her shoulder. She drops her sword and I kick it away.

“Do it,” she says.

“Do what?” I ask. “You’re unarmed. I’ve done it already. You’re finished.”

“You haven’t even drawn blood. We’re just getting started.” She shoves herself against my sword until the end pierces her skin and blood oozes out.

What is wrong with her? “Maybe for you this is the start, but I’m not that bloodthirsty.” I hurl my sword toward the corner of the ring, where it lands against hers with a clatter.

“You’re a coward.” Judica leans back and I notice the wound she inflicted on herself has already healed. I’ve never seen anyone heal so fast. “You’re never willing to hurt anyone, never willing to inflict even a little pain.”

“Pain’s overrated.”

Judica laughs. “Spoken like someone who doesn’t understand it.”

“And you’re an expert?”

Judica’s eyes flash. “More than you’ll ever understand. But here, let me offer you your first lesson.” My only warning is a flash of silver near her ankle before she rams the knife up to the hilt into my stomach.

I fall backward and land on my butt. Of course Judica keeps a concealed blade. I’m awash in pain now, but I have enough sense about me to know I need to pull the knife out before I can heal the damage. When I try to yank it out, Judica leaps above me, covering my hand with her own, and twisting the hilt. My vision blacks out and my body begins to shake.

“Enough.” This time it’s Balthasar who pulls Judica away.

Edam yanks the knife out of the gaping hamburger meat that used to resemble my stomach and lifts me up. He wraps an arm around me to keep me upright. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. “Did she puncture anything major? Should I call Job?” Pain rolls outward from my stomach in waves, but his hands on my shoulders still draw half my attention.

Judica snarls at me as Balthasar pulls her toward the back corner of the room. I ignore them and focus on my stomach, filling holes, repairing the torn and sliced bits. I push the pain back, one second at a time, and clench my fists until the worst recedes.

“I’m fine.” Despite my words, I don’t pull away from Edam and he doesn’t release me. He’s staring down at my face when I finally look up. I’m healed, but the process has drained me right down to my bones.

“I think I’m done for the day,” I mumble. I’m not sure I can stay on my feet without help.

“I was wrong,” Judica says.

I’m not expecting an apology. After years of trying, of hoping, of forgiving, I gave up completely on ever being the recipient of Judica’s remorse long ago. I should ignore her proclamation and walk out, but since I can’t walk, I turn toward her.

Besides, Judica has never admitted she’s wrong before, so her declaration piques my curiosity. “About what?”

“You’re not a coward,” she says.

“No?” I’m actually surprised. She never retracts insults. Maybe my comeback actually impressed her.

“No.” She smiles at me and something inside me I thought long dead surges.

Hope.

Is she sorry for what she did? Does she realize she went too far by stabbing me after our sparring ended? Maybe she regrets being so cold and cruel over the years. Maybe she wants me to forgive her. Maybe shreds of compassion exist in the inner parts of her heart. Perhaps there’s a shred of hope she might be willing to help me, to support me.

Her smile grows cold and I know. A split second before she speaks again, I realize nothing has changed.

“Cowardice can be overcome,” she says. “Cowards sometimes grow backbones. You’re not a coward, and you’ll never change. You’re weak, just like our father was, and you can’t fix that, no more than a house cat could age into a tiger. Even in utero, Mother knew I was the strong one. She knew you were too small, too kind, and too weak to rule Alamecha. Nothing will change that. Nothing.”

I just healed a broken knee, a gash on my arm that cut to the bone, and the damage from a knife being twisted inside my gut. Even so, her words hurt worse. It’s not even her hatred or contempt that sting. I’ve become so accustomed to those that they have no power over me now.

But.

What she said this time is true.

Mom chose Judica over me without hesitation or delay. The only explanation is that she saw something in me, even as a baby, that was lacking. In seventeen years, I’ve never heard a single soul express the sentiment that Mom might have killed Judica instead of me. It was always me she spared, and it was always me who was doomed to die. My innate deficiency is the one wound my perfect body can’t heal. Because if I hadn’t ever tried on her ring, even my own mother would still think I was too flawed to take her place.

And everyone knows that Enora’s instincts are never wrong.