While I slept, a dream came to me. I was now standing in a vast field, the air thick with the scent of blood. All around me lay the dead, twisted, broken, silent witnesses to a battle already finished. But none of that mattered the moment I saw him. There, not far from where I was, a figure stood alone before an enormous black shadow.
I squinted, heart suddenly hammering. That's when our gazes met, the shadow struck, a whip of pure darkness. The figure threw both arms forward without hesitation. From his body erupted a massive, living shield, crackling at the edges as an impact rang out. He slid backwards through the mud and corpses, boots carving deep furrows, yet he held.
Moments later, the dream shattered. A sharp jolt ripped through me, and my eyes flew open. Above me hovered a face so striking it stole the breath I'd just dragged in. Selene's gaze pinned me in place as a smirk crossed her face. Strands of dark hair fell forward like silk curtains, framing her as morning light spilt through the window.
She straightened, stepping back like someone who knew exactly how lethal she could be. ''Get up, Prince,'' she ordered, full of impatience, though a flicker of something warmer danced beneath it. ''Training was meant to start half an hour ago, and you've already slept through some of it.''
''Sorry, I'm aching all over, and needed some rest.''
''No excuses,'' the brunette retorted as I got out of bed. ''Come on, let's get moving.''
Following that, I trailed behind Selene as we left the room and walked through the manor. I knew it from my memories and was one of the dozens that dot the kingdom, but my father hardly used the ones in the west. He must have sent me here to keep me out of the way for my safety or to stop the rumours.
We continued walking through the corridors as maids went about their duties. Seconds later, I saw Lily coming down the path toward us, steps measured, posture perfect as always. When she reached me, she dipped into that flawless bow of hers. ''Morning, My Prince,'' she said, voice soft and sweet like honey poured over broken glass. ''Breakfast will be ready shortly after your training.''
''Thank you,'' I answered, shifting my weight because the ribs still sang with every breath. ''I skipped dinner last night. The pain made it impossible to eat.''
The words were barely out of my mouth when her lips curved. A smile, small, polite, the kind servants are supposed to give princes. But something about the way the corners of her eyes stayed flat, the way the expression bloomed and died in the same heartbeat, made my stomach twist.
She turned toward the kitchens without another word, skirts whispering against the stone. I watched the straight line of her back disappear around the corner, and the thought settled in my chest like cold lead. She hates me.
This is going to take a lot more than apologies and time. I was about to say goodbye, but Selene's grip tightened on my wrist like an iron manacle. Before I could blink, we continued down the corridor. ''Save the chit-chat,'' she muttered, not bothering to look back. ''You're late enough as it is.''
After a few minutes, we stepped outside into the morning light. The training yard opened before us, a broad, grim rectangle of packed earth and churned mud, ringed by high stone walls that rose into ramparts. Legionnaires patrolled the walkways above, keeping the place protected.
Interspersed among them were the Lion Guards. A low ripple of shock passed along the battlements like wind through dry grass. I could feel their stares, some openly stunned, while others quickly masked their expressions, but none of them managed to look away. Selene didn't slow. If anything, her grip grew firmer, as though daring anyone to comment.
''Keep walking,'' she said under her breath, voice low enough that only I could hear. ''They've seen ghosts before. You're just the latest one.''
Selene didn't give me a second to recover from the walk. The instant my boots hit the training yard dirt, she shoved a wooden practice sword into my gut. Hard enough that the breath huffed out of me. ''Pick it up properly this time,'' she warned.
Hearing her words, I felt my face burn, not just from the morning chill. I gripped the sword. My arms already trembled from the effort of holding it steady. She didn't wait for me to ready myself as she started. ''Defend.''
The first strike slammed into my guard so hard the vibration ran up my arms and into my shoulders. I staggered back two steps, boots sliding in the mud. ''Too slow. Too heavy,'' she circled me like a wolf. ''Again.''
She came faster this time, with a low sweep at my legs. I tried to jump, and she rewarded me with a sharp crack across my ribs. Pain bloomed hot and bright. I gasped, doubled over, but it never stopped. Hours dragged on like torture. She ran me through endless drills that I started to remember over time.
Lunges until my muscles screamed, footwork patterns that left me stumbling, guard holds that made my shoulders feel like they were tearing apart. Every time I faltered, she struck harder, faster. When I dropped to a knee, panting, sweat pouring into my eyes and soaking my clothes so they clung to my body, she loomed over me.
''Get to your feet, prince. You're not done until I say you are. Or do you think the assassins will wait while you catch your breath?''
That hit deeper than any blow. I hauled myself upright, legs shaking, chest heaving. My lungs burned. My body felt like lead wrapped in lard. She didn't let up. By the time the sun hung high and merciless, I was a wreck. Mud caked my knees and elbows. Sweat stung the splits on my knuckles.
My shirt was drenched, plastered to my chest and stomach in a way that made me want to disappear. I collapsed onto all fours after she swept my legs again, gasping like a beached fish. Selene stood above me, breathing steadily. ''Look at you,'' she said quietly, almost gently. ''A prince of the realm trying to better himself, you've surprised me into wanting to train you more.''
I wanted to smile, but the pain in my jaw wouldn't allow it. Only breathlessness, choking. She crouched, grabbed my chin, and forced my eyes up to hers. ''Tomorrow we start earlier. You lose the weight, or you lose everything. I won't watch you die because you were too lazy to change.''
She released me and stood, a glint in her brown eyes. ''Come on, get up. Force yourself if you have to. But get up, and you better not give up.''
After that, she marched toward the manor's gate while I managed to stand up after some determination. My chest was heaving, but I dragged myself toward the narrow strip of shade cast by the wall. The stone was cool against my back as I slumped against it, legs splayed out in front of me like fallen logs.
Mud caked my clothes, my hair, my face. Sweat dripped steadily from my chin, pooling in the dirt. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the guards still watching, or about how every inch of me ached with the proof of my own weakness. Footsteps approached, light, hesitant. I cracked one eye open.
A young maid, no older than me, stood a few paces away holding a tray with fruits and water on it, making my stomach growl with hunger. Damn, the old lazy prince must have gorged.
When I smiled at the young woman, making her eyes widen, it was a mix of pity and nervousness. She wore the simple grey dress of the household staff, an apron dusted with flour. She curtsied awkwardly. ''My prince... I thought you might need your breakfast.''
I tried to sit up straighter, but my muscles refused to cooperate. ''Thank you,'' I croaked, voice raw. ''Really. Thank you.''
She stepped forward, poured some, and pressed the cup into my fingers. The water was cold, shockingly so, cutting through the dust in my throat like a blade. I drank in great gulps, spilling half of it down my chin and chest. It felt like the first mercy anyone had shown me all day.
The maid lingered a moment, as if unsure whether to speak, then dipped another quick curtsy and retreated toward the nearby entrance. I rested against the stone, eyes closed, while eating some of the fruit, which was tastier than the ones back on Earth. I continued eating until my stomach growled, wanting meat and other delights, but I ignored it.
Once I finished eating, I leaned my head back, letting the brief coolness settle over me. For a second, the world quieted as hours passed, allowing my body to recover. Then came the heavy tread of boots on packed earth. ''Rest time's over, boy.''
When hearing that, I opened my eyes only to see Garrick standing there, arms crossed, looking down at me like I was a disappointing horse he'd been forced to stable. He was one of Father's old Guard captains, now apparently assigned to the task of turning me into something resembling a warrior.
He didn't wait for me to answer. ''Up. We're not done burning that gut off yet.''
My body screamed in protest as I pushed myself to my feet. I felt my legs wobble; fresh sweat broke out across my forehead just from the effort of standing. Garrick tossed a heavy rope coil at my chest. I caught it, barely, and nearly dropped it. It was thick, rough hemp, weighted at one end with an iron ring.
''Start running laps,'' he said flatly. ''Around the yard. Full circuit. Don't stop until I say. And keep that rope over your shoulders. It'll remind you what extra weight feels like when it's useful instead of just dead flesh.''
I stared at him, chest still heaving. ''I can barely stand.''
''Then go on your hands and knees,'' he cut in. ''But move.''
Steeling my determination, I draped the rope across my shoulders. The weight immediately pulled at my neck and back, making my gut sag even more prominently. Humiliation burned fresh in my throat.
Garrick pointed toward the far wall. ''Go.''
I started running, or what passed for running—a lumbering, painful jog. The rope chafed, the sun scorched, my lungs burned anew. Mud sucked at my boots. My shirt, already soaked and filthy, clung tighter with every stride. He walked alongside me at first, then fell behind to watch. ''Faster. Knees up. Back straight.''
Following that, I pushed harder. My vision blurred with sweat and exhaustion. The yard seemed to stretch forever. Guards on the ramparts tracked my progress in silence. I could feel their eyes on every jiggle, every laboured breath. Lap after lap. My pace slowed to a stagger, then a shuffle.
My heart thundered in my ears. Black spots danced again. Garrick's voice cut through the haze. ''Keep going. One more circuit. Prove you're not completely useless.''
I gritted my teeth and forced one foot in front of the other. The rope felt like it was strangling me now. My legs gave warning tremors; the pain had numbed. Then, halfway around, my knees buckled completely. I dropped like a felled tree, rope sliding off my shoulders as I hit the dirt on hands and knees.
My arms shook violently; I couldn't push up. My stomach heaved as sweat poured into my eyes, blinding me. Garrick loomed over me again, boots planted wide.''Not bad,'' he grunted, almost approving. ''For a start. Get your breath. Then we do it again tomorrow. Earlier. Harder.''
He walked away without another word, leaving me sprawled there in the dust, gasping, broken, but, for the first time, feeling the tiniest spark of something that wasn't just shame. Maybe, just maybe, I could change.