“What are you doing?” she asked him, puzzled.
“This is Cade. He works with the smith and sees after the sparring field. He’s deaf and speaks with his hands.”
She looked at the boy, amazed. He could speak with his hands? Then she realized she was staring and shifted. “Oh, um… how do I say hi?” she asked curiously.
Alexander chuckled and simply held up his hand. The boy smiled.
“I suppose that one’s easy,” she said sheepishly.
Cade drew a sword from the weapons’ hold and held it out for her. She raised a brow at Alexander, and he nodded.
“Thank you,” she said as she took it awkwardly. “How do I say thank you?”
Alexander cupped his fist and then extended his fingers. Norah copied it, and the boy gave her a large grin and then bowed. Alexander nodded to the boy, who bowed again and left them to the quiet of the morning. She watched him go, still impressed by his ability to adapt.
Alexander pulled his own sword from its scabbard.
“So… a lesson?” she asked with an uncertain smile.
His face grew serious, but there was excitement in his eyes. “Not exactly. You remembered the poem. And the dance.” He paused, leaving out the cave. “And perhaps you’ve had glimpses of other things. I want to see if you remember the sword. If I’m right in my suspicion, you won’t need a lesson.”
Norah gave a skeptical smile as she took the sword, but once it was in her hand, she felt a comfort she hadn’t expected. She rolled her wrist, getting familiar with its weight. She looked back at Alexander in surprise, and he gave her another nod.
Not giving her much time, he stepped forward with a swing, but she brought her blade up, countering and stepping to the side. She gripped the hilt tighter. The sword brought her power, confidence. Excitement swelled within her. She launched her own attack, cutting forward and driving him to step back. He spun to give himself more space to escape her. Their blades sang through the air, ringing into the morning.
Her ferocity grew with each strike, and she found the fight growing within her. But on a defensive turn, her boot slipped, and she stumbled. She tried to regain herself for a counter, but the tip of Alexander’s blade met her chest.
She stilled, and he stepped back, letting her catch her breath. Norah let out a quiet laugh in surprise. “That was… unexpected,” she finally managed to get out. “It seems I’m not terrible.”
“Certainly not terrible,” he said, out of breath himself. “A little out of practice, but even so, the better of many men.”
“Out of practice?” she feigned offense. “You only got me because I slipped.”
He grinned and took a ready stance again. She attacked this time with an arcing side swing, and he used his blade to deflect it. She pursed her lips. Smooth. Very smooth. He countered with a swing of his own. She tried to mirror him, but she didn’t have his strength. He crossed his sword against hers and used it to push her backward and up against the fence near the weapons’ hold.
He smiled, his face close to hers. Their blades were still crossed between them as he pinned her.
“Did you slip again?” he asked.
Her eyes narrowed. Was he really teasing her? She pushed against him, but he didn’t let her free.
He winked. “Or did you forget how to defend yourself?”
He was teasing her. With her free hand, she whipped her knife from its sheath just inside her jacket and brought the tip to his chin. “Did you forget you gave this to me?”
His smile grew, and he gave a light chuckle. “No, but I did forget how good you are with it,” he admitted, “and how quick you are to use it.”
Norah grinned. “Does this mean I win?”
Their stares locked as they stilled.
“I think so,” he said. Then, quieter, “Although I have to confess, I don’t feel as though I’ve lost.”
Warmth coursed through her, despite the cold. He only needed to lean a little closer, and she could meet his lips with hers.
No—they couldn’t let themselves go there again.
As if he had the same thought, he pulled back, releasing her.
She drew in a breath, trying to regain her senses. “I’ve trained?” she asked, finding her words.
He shrugged. “Something like that.” He held out his hand for her sword, and she gave it to him. He took it and pushed it back into the weapons’ hold. “Sword training is not part of a princess’s curriculum, but you wouldn’t have that. So, growing up, every day you’d ask me to teach you what I had learned. We’d spend the evenings practicing in the back paddocks.” He gave her a smirk. “I’d say I’m an excellent teacher.”
She couldn’t help a laugh. His eyes burned bright, and he smiled back at her.
Then his face sobered. “I have to go,” he said.
“Oh.” She bit the inside of her cheek to hide her disappointment. Another wall. It was for the best.
“Your grandmother has committed my presence,” he explained.
A smile crept back to her face, and she nodded. That was better than a wall. “I understand. I should get back as well.”
He delayed a moment, and she hoped he might find a reason to stay.
“Good day, Queen Norah,” he said finally.
“Good day, Lord Justice.”
He gave a small bow and took his leave.
Norah walked back to her chamber, surprised by the morning. She could fight—somewhat. That was good to know. She suddenly became aware of Titus behind her again. Had he seen her? Of course he had. “Did you know I could do that?” she asked.
He motioned to the break in his brow. “How do you think I got this scar?”
She stopped, and her mouth dropped open. “Are you serious?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No,” he said, and she scowled.
Back at her chamber, Norah opened the door to see Catherine waiting for her. “Grandmother,” she said. They had spoken a little since the meeting with the council, enough to settle things between them. Mostly.
“Where were you?” Catherine asked.
“Just… out for a walk.” She expected Catherine to press her more or find something else to chastise, like seeing Norah in her outerwear, but the woman had something else on her mind. Norah noticed she held a box in her hand.
“A gift has come for you. From Phillip.”
Norah’s stomach turned sour. She was afraid to ask. “What kind of gift?”
Catherine pulled the top from the box to reveal a stunning sapphire necklace. Smaller jewels plated the sides, and there was a large stone pendant in the center. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
“It is,” Norah replied. It was beautiful, but she didn’t want jewelry. She wished King Phillip knew her better. Perhaps then he would have sent her a knife. She chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Catherine asked.
Norah pursed her lips and shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Here, he sent this as well.” Her grandmother handed her a small painted portraiture of the king.
She reluctantly took it. He wasn’t much older than she was, and he had a strong, square jaw and bronzed-brown hair. His nose was straight, refined, but not feminine. His eyes were as blue as Alexander’s. Well, not quite as blue. He was very handsome, she hated to admit, although she didn’t like the mustache. “Do you think he really looks like this? Or maybe they just paint him favorably. He is king.”