The Cursed Kingdom

4 | the shadows of secrecy.

"You've come a long way, Princess Arana," Xanchoir's voice reverberated through the training ground as he closed in on her, his sword held firmly against her shoulder. The weight of his words mirrored the weight of the blade, reminding her of the journey she had undertaken to become the warrior she was today.

Arana met Xanchoir's intense gaze, her eyes filled with determination. She circled away from him, her sword held in a fluid motion, changing guards and stances with each step. She had spent countless hours honing her skills, mastering the art of combat, and now it was time to put her training to the test.

"I thought I instructed you to refrain from addressing me with that gnarly title, Xanchoir," Arana retorted, her voice laced with a hint of playfulness. She matched his movements, swift and precise, her focus unwavering.

Xanchoir chuckled, a mix of pride and fondness evident in his eyes. With a swift slash, he brought his sword down towards Arana's head, testing her reflexes. But Arana was ready, raising her sword high and countering with a horizontal strike, the clash of their blades resounding in the air.

"The only title I desire to be addressed by is Queen Arana," she declared, her determination shining through. As their blades clashed, Arana's sword found its mark, slicing cleanly across Xanchoir's left cheek. She seized the opportunity, moving in close, impeding his sword arm and gripping her own sword halfway down the blade.

In a swift motion, Arana disarmed Xanchoir, his sword landing deep in the soil. She held his gaze, a mix of triumph and respect in her eyes. Retrieving his sword, she handed it back to him, acknowledging his skills.

"I have nothing left to teach you," Xanchoir admitted, a sense of pride resonating in his voice. He cleared the drops of blood from his cheek before wiping them off on his dusty old cotton shirt. "Care for lunch?"

Arana's earlier intensity softened into a smile as she nodded. "Heavens, yes. After this duel, I could eat a horse."

Xanchoir ruffled her hair affectionately before beaming with pride and making his way towards their makeshift dining area. As they walked, the harkened light of the day bathed them, casting a warm glow on their figures.

Their cottage stood tall yet timid against the backdrop of the grass, a secret haven gifted to Queen Zephyr from King Alistair. Few knew of its existence, offering them the privacy and solace they sought. It was a stark contrast to the grandeur Arana had grown up with, but she had grown fond of this simple abode shared by the two sisters, Xanchoir, Ruslan, Lancelot and Lancelot's son - Ajax.

Arana's smile widened as she cast her gaze back at the years spent within the walls of their humble abode. It had become a place she cherished, despite its stark contrast to the opulent accommodations she had grown up in. Gone were the grandiose rooms and castle halls, the chambermaids attending to her every need, and the lavish luncheons adorned with exotic fruits and fine wines. The sparkling evening gowns and jeweled crowns were now replaced with simpler attire, reflecting the essence of their secluded life.

The cottage had become a haven, shielding them from the weight of the world and offering solace amidst the tumultuous challenges they faced.

Arana's mind drifted to the memories of tea parties with neighboring kingdom's princesses, where laughter and camaraderie filled the air. She had once reveled in those moments, but now she found contentment in the quiet intimacy shared among her closest companions. Their conversations carried depth and authenticity, devoid of the pretenses that often accompanied royal engagements.

Yes, it was true that the cottage couldn't rival the splendor of her upbringing, but it held something far more valuable—a sense of unity and unconditional support. Within these humble walls, they nurtured their bonds, fortified their spirits, and prepared for the battles that lay ahead.