A Princess Torn (Alys Book #2)

Chapter 18

Grief is a weird thing.
Just when you feel like you have been okay for awhile, something triggers it to return in a powerful force, making one feel as if it never left.

Endolynn spent that night aching with loss; loss of Ayleth, loss of the ability to have any more children. At least Dastrehan was there. He stayed most of the night, an arm wrapped protectively around her. He left early in the morning, before most of the other occupants of the palace started to stir.

The bed left cold and lonely without him, but Endolynn reminded herself to focus on the fact that at least he was with her for a bit every night.

The next couple of days fell into a routine. Dastrehan spent most of the day with King Caldor and their advisers, and Endolynn spent time visiting with Jatova or doing her own things. Everyone came together for the evening meal, but other than that, Endolynn did not see much of Dastrehan during the day.

As they approached the one-week mark of when Dastrehan had arrived at High Cloud Palace, Endolynn decided to accept Jatova's fight challenge. She had been practicing with Rohesia daily, and her mentor had decided that she was ready.

When she told her father her decision, he was overjoyed.

"I knew your fire was coming back," he said with a proud grin, "This will be a grand event for King Dastrehan to witness."

A thrill moved through Endolynn's body as she thought about Dastrehan watching her fight Jatova. Women in Tarkam were not trained in any form of combat; it was simply not part of their culture. But Balearian women were different. Like men, many were trained in all kinds of combat from an early age. Now that most of her memories had returned, Endolynn could remember sparring with Jatova in the past, who had proven himself on many occasions to be a fair competitor. Since their reunion, Endolynn had secretly been vying for a chance to challenge him again but had been unsure. And now, with Dastrehan watching, she felt a new burst of determination. Dastrehan had only seen her fight in a brief moment of defence when Lord Balt had a knife to her pregnant belly over a year ago. That was nothing. She knew her true skill would impress him even more.

"On call, Princess?" Jatova's deep, rich voice called out to her playfully, challenging her.

They stood facing each other on a raised platform set up in one of the gardens. The early afternoon sun coated them in warmth.

Endolynn took a steadying breath, "On call, Prince," she replied with a slight nod. She quickly ran her fingers along her forearms, feeling the smooth wooden armor that was strapped to them. Simple training equipment so that the bones of her arms would be protected when she blocked. Weighing the wooden sword that she held in her right hand, she eyed Jatova as he carelessly flipped his chosen weapon around: a pole.

Rohesia stood by, rattling off the rules of the match that Endolynn already knew by heart.

No striking at your opponent's head or face.

No striking someone once they are down.

No hitting a female competitor in their stomach.

No hitting a male competitor between the legs.

No grabbing of clothing.

Her eyes danced to Dastrehan, who was sitting in a comfortable chair next to her father with a clear view of her and her opponent. His face was neutral as he spoke softly with the older king, but she knew he was forcing a look of calm. He briefly glanced up as the trainer was finishing up the rules of the match and met her eyes. He gave her a tight smile.