The Prince of Ilios

Eighty-Two

In the late afternoon, Alyn leaned against the oak tree by the stream. Vincent shrugged up right on time for training, "How is the Queen Consort today?" His breath steamed in front of his face from the wintry air.

"She just got done meeting with Derya, and now she is out in the garden admiring the flowers. What do they even need a guard in the room for? Those women do nothing but speak of fashion, flowers, sewing, weather, and other things."

Alyn nodded his head, "Did the Queen Consort seem to enjoy the conversation?" Ellora had always thought that small talk was a waste of breath and energy under the guise of false pretense in the past. She would never have endless conversations of the sort. He was highly suspicious that something was going on. Whatever it was, he hoped that she would be keen enough to keep any sign of it away from Cyrus. It was a dangerous gamble.

"She was smiling, but seemed very focused and intent. It was like it was the only conversation she had had in months." Vincent said off-handedly, "Why?"

"I just want to know that my sister is doing well. Just looking out for her as much as I can." Alyn sighed.

"You call her Queen Consort so often, I forget that she is your sister." Vincent thought aloud.

"Yes, better to keep it that way. It is not information that would do anyone any good right now." Alyn replied sternly.

Vincent nodded his understanding. It was better for him not to bring it up too much, regardless of where he was or who he was with. If there was anything that he had learned about Alyn in the time that they had been training, it was that he kept everything close to his chest. He seemed to never speak about himself, and he said only what was necessary in the moment.

"Today, we fight." Alyn stood to his full height.

Vincent wanted to jump up and down in excitement. He had finally earned something more than trainings of endurance. He tried to hide his excitement, but could not help the goofy grin on his face, "I'm ready!"

"I'm sure you think you are." Alyn chuckled. He unsheathed his sword. Vincent matched him.

"Fighting with weapons is little different from fighting with hands. The weapons are to be an extension of your limbs." Alyn tossed his sword to the side, "And, anything can be a weapon in the right hands."

Vincent looked at him suspiciously, he knew he'd gotten too excited. His thoughts were confirmed when Alyn produced two plain butter knives, not even a serrated edge to harm with. He dejectedly dropped his sword next to Alyn's, "I should have known."

Alyn smiled, "Yes, you should have, but don't take this lightly. I can kill you just as easily with this knife as I could that sword. And soon, you will too. We cannot be hindered by the loss of a weapon, we are the weapon. The tools we use are merely that, tools."

Vincent took the butter knife in hand and stood at the ready. Alyn nodded proudly. Vincent reminded him so much of his siblings. He was cocky like Bracken, stubborn like Ellora, and easily encouraged like Violet. After this was all over, he hoped to introduce them all.

---

Ellora stood in the garden, near the pond. The day that Nicola watched her fall in seemed so distant. Cyrus had rewarded her today with a walk in the garden. She had once again been tricked into improving his image the previous day, but she welcomed the chance to be out of her room. She really needed to be more careful, more scheming, in order to win against Cyrus's intellectual battles. The only problem was that she did not want to sacrifice her integrity to combat him. She had been given an assignment from Derya today.

"I can't really convey how cold it is in Zima. The ice is the hardest in the world, but I love to feel the chill of it all. In the early summer there is a great thaw, after that thaw, the villages come together and jump into the water before it freezes over again. It is so refreshing to meditate in the water, just before it freezes."