The Beauty of Mist, the Beast of Dawn {INDEFINITE HOLD}

Chapter 7: The Prince

I thrusted, I parried, I lunged. I struck blow, after blow, after blow, after blow. Yet, somehow, after an hour of practice, I had yet to hit my mark once. My true talent may have lied with knives, but I had never done so terribly with a sword.

"Your Highness," the weapons master said from where he stood against the training center's wall, "perhaps it is time to end our session for the day."

"No," I grunted. I would not quit until I had won at least once. I readied my stance.

"Prince Luka, you mustn't go on like this. It would not be wise."

I ignored the weapons master. He was a stodgy old man who I had never taken very seriously before, even during our lessons.

"Your Highness, are you certain?" my opponent, an off-duty guard, asked. 

I lunged in response. He easily blocked the blow. We went on for a few minutes, exchanging strikes, until the guard disarmed me—again.

I growled in frustration and retrieved my sword from where it had fallen. The guard, believing our match was over, turned away to polish his own blade. The moment his back was to me, I sprung—and promptly hit metal midway. Only seconds later, I was disarmed once more.

My mind whirled, failing to fully comprehend the situation. One moment, I'd brought down my weapon, prepared to hit flesh and bone. The next, my sword had flown from my hand.

"Luka!" The weapons master bellowed. "What were you thinking?"

"Prince Luka," I corrected. The truth was, I had not been thinking. I had only been feeling. Feeling anger and the need to redeem myself. Feeling the need of revenge for being bested by my own subject.

"No, Luka. I will call you what I want. Right now, that is 'A-Foolish-Boy-Who-Should-Have-A-Care-For-His-People-But-Unfortunately-Does-Not.' Does that bother you?"

I was not given the opportunity to answer that yes, yes it did bother me, because he turned to address the guard. "Mr. Samson, you are dismissed. Please attend to your duties while I speak with my pupil. Alone."

I scowled. Not only was I being treated as subordinate and not a superior, I was also getting a lecture for the second time that day. Just what I needed, I think bitterly.

The guard, or Mr. Samson, bowed his head. "Of course, Master. Your Highness, it was a pleasure and honor to serve you today."

I managed to get out a "The pleasure was all mine" through gritted teeth before he left. 

The weapons master whirled on me. "You could have killed him!" He cried.

"No, I would not have. I was aiming for his shoulder!" 

"With a killing blow! Honestly Luka, have I not taught you anything about honor?"

"It appears not," I muttered darkly. Still, I knew he was right. I had been prepared to strike a killing blow. Not only had I been prepared, I had craved it. 

"I didn't think so." His tone was soft and sad, not at all angry and resentful as I'd been expecting. 

I felt a prick of shame in my gut. Then, fear overwhelmed and questions overwhelmed me. How could I not feel the shame? Why did I not feel guilty that I nearly killed a guard? I could feel, couldn't I?

My questions were rhetorical. It was the curse's fault. The curse was catching up to me. The curse was warning me. I was running out of time.

Though I was certain I should hold my tongue, I did not. I was too full of rage and fear,  and too depleted of all rational thoughts. "Of course not."

"Excuse me?"

"Of course  you did not think so. Nobody thinks so. Nobody thinks that perhaps I have my reasons for being so nasty all the time!"

"Nasty? I never called you nasty!"

"No, but you implied it. You were thinking it too, weren't you?" The weapons master hung his head. 

I nodded smugly before continuing. "I do have my reasons—" My stomach cramped and my throat went dry. The curse was retaliating; I was dangerously close to revealing its existence. "—and before you ask, it is none of your business to know. Now, if you excuse me, I have duties of my own to attend."

I stormed out, a perplexed weapons master and slammed door in my wake. 

I stomped around the castle for some time. I had absolutely no clue where I was going; I only knew I wanted to be away. That was what would have driven me straight into a vaguely familiar statue that I'd never seen before, if not for the hand that stopped me and dragged me to a nook blanketed in shadows. A friendly voice that I somehow still found unnerving after all these years whispered, "Hello there, Princeling. We need to talk."