Sharp Flowers

Part One

Wooden swords clank with dull thuds after each swing—sweat beads on the back of my neck under the mid-morning sun. I slide my foot back, pivoting such that I can block my brother's bokken. Rock back, faking a retreat before launching forward. Quick reflexes turn evasive. Stepping forward, the bokken nicks his wrist.

"My point," I boast. My brother and I share triumphant smirks.

"You've been practicing," he notes, and I scoff at him. I would hope hours of training would bear fruit!

"A little," I answer with a giggle. Peter's praise is something, being one of the King's trusted guards. We head for the water pump behind the house. My legs ache from practice, but it's nothing if I've improved. "So, how has it been working for King Sebastian?" I wonder.

"Not bad. Sebastian is a respected leader with a fearsome reputation," Peter tells me.

"He must be if he just allows his guard to travel as he pleases. Father's surprised he gave you time to travel," I point out.

"King Kisomen really is. Although, I've never really seen him fight in battle..." Peter admits. I gawk at him, but he's serious.

"Then how can you be so sure?" I point out, and Peter just gives me this shrug. I shake my head at him and slash some water on my face. Not to mention, if he's such a fantastic fighter, then why does he have guards? I sigh; who knows?

"The castle is stressed. The neighboring kingdom is demanding more land," Peter adds, catching my attention now. Our home, the Wrenwood family home, is right along the border near the woods. Giving up any land would almost definitely mean giving up our home. "Father says you've been getting a lot of letters," he brings that up, and I groan.

"They're just letters, nothing else," I tell him.

"You don't know how persistent a man can be if he thinks he has a chance," Peter warns me. I roll my eyes. This coming from my brother like I can't handle myself, or I need extra protection.

"He'll get bored. Our family isn't that high in rank," I brush it off, but Peter doesn't look all that convinced. In fact, he seems perturbed—the sounds of horse's hooves clopping along the road snare both of our eyes now. I didn't know we had company coming.

"Peter," our father calls, and he spots me, "Go to your room; everything will be fine," he promises us.

"Father?" I question.

"Everything is fine; you need not worry. It's just administrative work," My father promises me. We nod, wrap our swords, and head inside. Trusting my obedience, my father doesn't notice when I sneak about toward the family room. There's a space between the walls I can slip through. Just on the other side is Father's study. Several beautiful tapestries line the wall. If I'm reticent, it's perfect for hiding and spying on my father's meetings. Sometimes it's for money, others for favors, and on occasion pleas for our help. Even after Peter left, I've never officially sat in on the noble meetings. As Peter's younger sister, I don't have a voice in these conferences. While his position quiets my voice, it saves me from the court's stress. I've witnessed some heated meetings- battles of words between noble families and neighboring villages. The Wrenwoods, though only third in rank, is not to be toyed with.

"Afternoon, Sir Tennoford, we weren't expecting diplomats," my father greets them, "Excuse our poor manners. We would have prepared more if we knew of your company," he adds. Why is he here? I thought if I'd ignore his letters, he'd leave me alone.

"Please, there is no need for formalities. You are acquainted with my advisor, Haden Smith?" Tennoford replies.

"Yes. I've received your letters. Sir Smith. It's an honor to have you visit our home," my father grumbles with a stiff handshake. "Please, what's brought you all this way?" he inquires.