A Royal's Tale [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12 - "Will you ever forgive me?"

Alwyn

Alwyn spun around, slicing the air with her sword. Lanterns swayed on the deck, creating enemy shadows. She could feel the gazes of Mick at the helm and Fynn in the crow's nest but she ignored them. With each thrust and parry, she felt her emotions boiling to the surface. She fought faster and faster, battling invisible adversaries.

"Little Duchess," Isla said. "You can not let your emotions control you, you must control them."

Alwyn grabbed her mother's words and clung to them, but with each cut her frustration grabbed her. Five days. Five days on the ship. That was all it took. Alwyn stabbed the wind. It wasn't even five days. It took mere moments for her entire crew to be taken with the Princess. Five days merely solidified their loyalty. Loyalty Alwyn worked for but never seemed to gain. But with one look from Lydia and the crew appeared ready to fall on their swords for her.

Just as they would follow Wilder, a boy soldier they only just met. As Alwyn performed a perfect uppercut, she found her annoyance towards Wilder didn't last long. After the command he'd shown and the impressive way he handled the attack, she understood the awe he inspired. Even if grudgingly.

As for Zavier...

Alwyn lunged forward, piercing nothing, but doing it with as much force as if she faced a real attacker.

She didn't want to think about him. But he seemed to always be in her mind, living there like he had since she'd first found him in the cargo hold. She ground her teeth, performing even quick strikes.

She'd trusted him, even when she knew she shouldn't. He was a nobleman, nothing they said could be trusted. She'd grown up with the stories of her father's father. Heard the viper-like environment of the court. But still, he'd smiled at her, joined her life on the ship like he'd been born from salt, sea, and sand.

Five days. Five days she'd watched him as he devoted time to the Princess. His betrothed. He showed her the same caring sympathy as everyone on the ship. Everyone except Alwyn. At the thought of her coldness, Alwyn felt shame rush over her like a wave. The same shame she'd felt when Wilder had called her out for her actions towards Lydia. A girl who'd lost everyone and everything.

Disgusted with herself, Alwyn whipped her blade out of her boot and hurled it at the ship. It landed in the railing with a solid thunk.

She dropped her sword, breathing heavily, staring at the darkened sea. The almost black color brought to mind Zavier's eyes. She gripped the sword hilt harder. Five days and nothing had become easier for her. It still hurt to see him. To see him with her.

"Are you done defeating your demons?" Zavier asked.

Alwyn tensed and didn't turn around. "Pick up your sword and we'll see."

She couldn't turn around because she knew what she'd find. A version of him that she knew best, that was dangerously easy to love: coat fitting his shoulders just so, an expanse of dark skin revealed by his unbuttoned shirt, his curls wild, blown about by the wind. She hated him.

"I would," Zavier said. "But Joric said he would kill me if I got within a foot of you when you're holding a sword."

"Because he knows I would do my worst to you?"

"Yes. But seeing how you have been avoiding me these last few days, I am starting to think that I am experiencing the worst."

Alwyn sheathed her sword and strode over to the railing, yanking out the dagger.

"Then you are feeling a fraction of what I do."

She held the blade between both hands, staring at the metal that captured fragments of moonlight. Zavier approached her. With the wind at her back, she caught the scent of him, sun, and sea.