Free Heartless by Anne Elisabeth Stengl Page B

to.”
    “She won’t have you,” Felix said.
    “Perhaps not.”
    “She doesn’t like you.”
    Aethelbald smiled wryly and took up his wooden sword. “I’d gathered as much last night.”
    “She won’t change her mind.”
    “Perhaps not.”
    “No, I know my sister.” Felix emphasized his words with a jab of his sword. “She doesn’t like you, and she won’t change. She’s stubborn as anything.”
    “But I am steadfast,” Aethelbald replied. “We’ll see who prevails in the end.”
    Felix snorted. “I’ll put my money on Una.”
    “As any loyal brother should. On your guard, Prince Felix!”
    Felix hardly had a moment to react before his sword was knocked from his hand and sailed across the yard. Yelping in surprise, he scampered after it and had just enough time to swipe it up and place it between himself and Aethelbald before the Prince lunged for him. He parried weakly, and the next moment Aethelbald’s sword swung around and froze a fraction of an inch from his neck.
    Felix’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes locked with those of the other prince. Aethelbald’s gaze was unreadable, and his eyes seemed to look not at Felix but inside him. They penetrated deeply, behind whatever masks he wore, down into his soul.
    Felix looked away.
    “You should have tried the maneuver I taught you,” Aethelbald said. “In combat it would have saved your life. Again, Felix.”
    This time when Aethelbald lunged, Felix’s feet seemed to move on their own, performing the steps he’d been practicing all morning. His reaction was imperfect, but it was good enough, and he knocked Aethelbald’s sword from his hand. No whoop of victory escaped his lips this time. His sword whipped through the air, and its point rested just before Aethelbald’s heart. They stood like statues for a long moment.
    “Good,” Aethelbald said at last.
    Clattering hooves drew their attention. Both turned to look toward Westgate across the yard. A troop of horsemen stood just outside the gate, all astride sorrel horses but for their leader, who rode a black charger taller and more powerful than the rest. The leader exchanged a few words with the captain at the gate, and a moment later he and his men were waved inside. They were at least twenty strong.
    “I know who that is.” Felix wiped sweat from his brow as he watched the horsemen enter the courtyard and dismount. “Word arrived a few days ago of their coming. That’s the emblem of Beauclair on their cloaks, and their livery is of the royal house.” He turned to Aethelbald, a wicked grin spreading across his face, and waved his sword at him. “I think you have a little competition now. That’s Gervais, Crown Prince of Beauclair.”
    Aethelbald said nothing but watched as stableboys came out to take the horses, and as the palace steward appeared at the great front door to greet the newcomers. The tall leader, whose cloak was blue and shot with silver threads, did not return the steward’s bow but allowed himself to be escorted inside.
    Aethelbald quietly stepped over to pick up his sword. Then he turned to Felix. “On guard, friend.”
    “What? No!” Felix watched his own sword spin through the air once more.

6
    A certain amount of whispering and Nurse’s exclamation of “What?” in the nearby hall were not enough to distract Una’s attention from the work at hand. She knelt beside a basin brimful of sudsy bubbles, holding Monster in a death grip by the back of the neck with one hand, wielding a scrub brush with the other, which was difficult to manage while wearing heavy leather gauntlets. Her tongue poked into her cheek in concentration. Monster’s caterwauls had diminished into low, seditious growls that boded ill for the future. She scrubbed for her life while she had a chance.
    “Princess!”
    “Oi, wait! Bad kitty, no – ”
    Una screamed, lost her hold, and watched her flailing cat escape her erstwhile paralyzing grasp. Monster’s claws found several