A Tale of Snakes and Shadows

Chapter One

 I'm not sure why I was made into the person I am- I'm not very good at "princish" things; parties, politics- hobnobbing with Green-casted elites. But what I am sure of, is my way with a sword. I'm fast and agile for my height, and athletic enough to maneuver around the court without losing stamina. We dropped our safety gear at the door; no suit, no helmet. The competition floods my body with adrenaline- even though I know Maverick would never hurt me. He lunges in a sprint, his sword held straight out like a spear. I think quickly and run as fast I can toward him, falling and skidding out behind his massive frame.

I thought if went between his legs I could get behind him faster than he could attack, but he calls off the fight.

He taps the flat part of his sword against my chin. "If this battle were real, you would've been decapitated. And what's a prince without a head? A damn happy rebel, that's what." Maverick is captain of the guard, but he's also my fencing coach, and the security detail for me and my brothers. The words that come from his concrete-grain voice are sometimes harsh, but he means well. "Tell me how you were going to stand up without making yourself vulnerable." He waits for me to answer.

"I couldn't've," I say. Being as close as I was to an opponent without being up on my feet, able to dodge his next attack- it was dangerous. I should've known better.

"The only thing that hits the ground should be your opponent." Maverick extends his hand and helps me off the floor. His skin is sweat-soaked, the callouses on his palms thick. His blue caste mark peeks out from underneath his sleeve; it's faded, splotchy, blending into all the intricate creases of his skin. Mine is more solid, like someone gold marker across my wrist. "You're too good with that sword to be making tactical mistakes."

I smile at his compliment. Maverick's taught me everything I know- nearly everything he knows. He's promised that if I ever beat him, he'll give to me the same five-pointed brand that hides behind his left ear; called a Knight's Token. It's a symbol only held by skilled fighters, and receiving one is the highest honor an instructor can give. Nevertheless I doubt my father would approve. Brand scars don't exactly fit into the New Britain social scene- though neither do I. I bend down and reach for my blade. "Another round?"

He nudges his head toward the door. "Lindon's here for you." My brother stands slinked against the frame like he's been waiting for us to finish. We both have whitish blond-hair, though his is neatly trimmed, combed, and slicked back, and mine falls in loose waves down my shoulders- a small, but significant act of rebellion. Not only is long hair in men out of style but it makes my twin and I different in ways people can't ignore.

"Do you need something?" I ask as I approach him.

He straightens up. "Father wants you to be at the senate meeting. He says it would be good for you."

"I never go to those."

"He says it could be a learning experience." Lindon slides his hands in his pockets. "For when you apply to senatory school in the fall." Lately Father has been pestering me about becoming a senator, to represent our capitol in the Senatorium. And quite frankly I couldn't think of anything worse to spend my life doing. There are plenty of intelligent Noblemen in Raynor who want- and are worthy of- the position. "I've told him no. Twice."

"It's one meeting." He looks up and around before looking back at me. "And we can spend time together afterward. Get lunch or something. All of us."

"Even Sade?" I give him a strange glance. "A six year old can't sit through a senate meeting."

"He's started etiquette training." Lindon shrugs. "Should be fine."