“Soon.”
Simon races out of a side door at the east end of the courtyard, drawing my attention away as he runs across the grass, his toy sword drawn out in front of him.
“Little shit.”
I twist toward Xander so fast, my eyes cross. “Excuse me?”
He waves his hand toward Simon. “I don’t know how many times we have to tell his mother to keep him out of sight and where he belongs.”
My stomach sours, twisting until bile burns my throat. “And where does he belong?”
“Out of sight and out of mind.” He scowls.
“He’s a child,” I snap, anger percolating in my gut.
“He’s a scullery maid’s child.”
My brows rise, and I step away from Xander. “You believe his circumstance makes him less than?”
“Please, cousin, don’t be so naive. Everything is about stature in this world. Some belong, and some don’t.”
“Because of his skin?” My blood boils.
His face pinches as he glances at me and then back at the boy. “Because he’s an abomination.”
I laugh in disbelief, the blades strapped beneath my dress calling me, making me itch to stamp out his ignorance forever. “Oh, Alexander. I think it’s you who’s the abomination.”
Spinning around, I storm away, my insides seething.
How dare he.
Simon stands beneath the large weeping willow in the back corner of the court, his front leg stomping forward as he thrusts out his arm. “En garde!”
Warmth spreads through my chest and extends through my limbs as I make my way toward him, and I wonder, not for the first time, how anyone can be so cruel to such an innocent soul.
Stopping a few meters away, I watch him sword fighting with the air. My heart squeezes when I remember the bruising of his eye and the tears in his voice, and I wonder if he’s by himself because he doesn’t have anyone else to play with.
“Keep your wrist straight,” I call out.
He spins around, his eyes squinting as he zones in on me.
“Hey, lady.” He beams. “What d’you know about fighting?”
“More than you think.” I smirk. “Come here, let me show you what to do.”
I wave at him, and he skips over, gracing me with a beautiful, toothy grin. I spin him around by his shoulders, placing his hands in front of me, and straightening out his form. Then I brush my fingers along the tops of his arms, jostling him just a little. “You can’t be so tense, Simon. Your body will never obey you if you’re stiff like a board.”
His tiny muscles relax, and I move my hand down to cover his as he grips the base of his sword.
“Be like water. Fluid and quick.”
“Water?” He scrunches his nose, and I move his arm, showing him what my father taught me when I was his age.
I step away, allowing him to continue the movements on his own.
“That’s right,” I say. “Water is the most powerful element in the world. Calm when needed and ferocious when tried. Never assume you know something’s power because of how it appears.”
He nods, his eyes wide. “How’d you get so smart?”
I brush off invisible lint from the sleeve of my arm. “You’d be surprised what a lady knows, Simon.”
“That’s right, you should never underestimate a woman. Especially this one,” someone booms from behind me.
The voice makes my heart dive into my stomach and I spin around, coming face-to-face with a broad chest and a sparkling smile.
“Uncle Raf,” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
His icy blue eyes gleam as they trail me from head to toe, his weight leaning heavily on a dark wooden cane. “Hello, sweet niece.”
“And who are you?” Simon interrupts, having walked forward to stand in front of me, his sword pointing at Raf’s chest.
My uncle glances down, his smile withering away as he takes in who’s questioning him. My eyes narrow, the need to protect Simon surging through my blood like a fire.
“This is my uncle, Rafael Beatreaux.” I place my hand on Simon’s shoulder.
“And this is His Majesty,” I say to Raf, my eyes widening.
Simon glances up at me, his amber eyes sparkling. My breath whooshes from me as I look at him, realizing for the first time that his eyes bear a striking resemblance to Michael.
My chest caves in on itself.
No. Is he?
Uncle Raf laughs. “Surely, you jest.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s the king. Don’t you know how to greet royalty with respect?”