The White Sheep's Disguise ✓

Chapter 29

Cloak's chambers have become too suffocating to share with a stubborn prince. He has done everything in his power to ensure we're not alone together, either by spending time with one of his siblings or venturing to the courtyard to train. Today, that is where I expected him to go. Like a ghost, he had vanished and left me to play the familiar game of search and question.

After exploring the courtyard, the line of the woods, his chambers and every hallway in the palace, I finally discover where he is hiding. He knew I'd search for him outside the interior and purposely forgot to mention that the training room on the palace's third floor is reserved for the royal children.

I find not one, but two of the queen's adopted children inside, sparring in too-rapid movements. Cloak is quick and uses his weight to his advantage, but Aela is nimble and small enough to dive underneath his planned attacks. Unlike how training should go, a sharpening of one's best skills, they appear to be going through their unsurpassed efforts of killing each other.

As I pen out a letter to Castiel, reminding him I'm still alive and to give Chaska my best wishes, the echoing of swords clashing fills the void in my head. Their voices find their way through the complicated corridor of my focus, distracting me from the truth I wish for my brother to know, so I give up and turn my attention towards what deserves it.

Both Aela and Cloak are covered in a layer of sweat. The stains bleed through their shirts and forces leather trousers to stick to their legs. By far, these two siblings are the blood-thirsty of the four. And I have no intention to get in the way of what they're battling for. To hold something over the other, I imagine.

"You're not putting enough weight on your front foot," Cloak points out as they circle each other. He gestures to Aela's boot with the tip of his sword and she snarls, taking that as a threat. "As someone that cannot possess the fluidity of some of the strongest warriors in the kingdom, you mustn't slack on your weight distribution."

His sister snorts and releases herself from a crouching position, waiting for Cloak to strike. "Is that why I'm mother's personal guard and not you?"

I know what's coming before the words leave his mouth. "Mother tends to use those that are most expendable as her personal guard."

Her close-set stare lights a fire, beige eyes somehow blazing with life. The bushel of curls normally hanging down her back twist behind her head in a tight knot. A few break free, framing her sharp, diamond face.

"I am not expendable," she grunts, swinging her silver sword at Cloak's throat. Like the attack doesn't faze him at all, Cloak leans back at the waist and avoids spilling his blood onto the wooden floor. "Mother needs me as much as she needs you. And maybe if you didn't fight so feverishly, she would've chosen you."

Cloak tips his head back and laughs. While it would be the perfect opportunity to drive her elbow into his cheek, Aela stands there and watches him, waiting for the unexpected attack she knows is coming. I study his movements in the same manner I did when I was a child, surveying the guards as they fought for money instead of pride. At least one lost a tooth, and the other, his coin purse.

Cloak twists the sword in his hand and moves his wrist unnaturally. "I have better things to do than stand over mother's shoulder all day. She's a Luminary, she can defend herself. You'd be better served in the Panjandrum Corps, or as Rivian's official assassin."

She lunges, swiping left, then right. Cloak can't defend low as quickly as she can, and Aela knows it. Still, through all his expertise and years of fighting in battles where enemies memorize his weaknesses, Cloak blocks every blow meant to sink into his flesh. He knocks his sister back with a firm elbow and she stumbles but regains her ground.