“No, it’s fine,” I shook my head. “I can’t force you into showing something you don’t want anyone to see.”
I see that’s why he always kept his shirt on during practice. Because of his scars.
I furrowed my eyebrows.
Where did he get those, anyway?
Oh, thank god.
I was safe. I wasn’t going to be found out. I wasn’t going to die.
Watching Colton’s brow furrow, I hastened to speak before he asked any questions. “I would be more than happy to pay you back later, how much is it?”
“You don’t need to,” I answered flatly. “We’re going to start your training again tomorrow, so what you need to do is get your body back in shape.”
Elliot certainly came with many surprises. I didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but if he lied, he had a good reason to. I lead him to the private bath, telling him I’d return in an hour or so.
The trip to the bathhouse yesterday had done wonders—By the time breakfast had arrived I was up and training with renewed energy, my limbs only retaining faint traces of their soreness. The only thing paining my now was my chest; I'd forgotten to take off my binder for the night the second time in a row, which had caused my flattened bosom to hurt like hell.
But I did my best to ignore it when I went down to the armoury after a light lunch, meaning to practice shooting with my newfound crossbow. Now, after roughly twenty minutes of hard work and shooting at targets, I'd managed to narrow my shooting accuracy down by one ring, which resulted in a rush of pride.
“Aren’t you giving the new kid too much attention, Prince Colton?” One of my father’s men questioned during lunch.
I paused, my spoon full of soup hovering a few inches away from my mouth.
“What I do and what I don’t do is none of your business,” I responded coldly. “Do keep your nose on your face, Volt, rather than a place where it doesn’t belong.”
My father hid his laughter behind a cough and I set my spoon back on the half-eaten soup. I stood up, looking at the King.
“I’ll excuse myself now, Father,” I said, bowing my head. “I need to give the new kid some of my attention.”
I meant that in a mocking way, and Volt understood, his face twisting into a sneer. I smirked to myself, stuffing my hands in my pockets and walking out of their presence.
I found Elliot in the armory, practicing his crossbow. I stayed silent, watching him practice. Right after he shot closer to the center, his face lighted into a smile. How could he be so happy even though the arrow was still much away from the center, I didn’t know. But I approved of him hyping himself up.
(Colton, lmao)
As I stooped to retrieve one of my fallen arrows, I caught sight of Colton by the entrance to the armoury, his eyes on me. A shiver ran down the length of my spine—why, I had no idea, but I brought a polite smile to my face and crossed the training room to him.
"Hey," I greeted, straightening my back a little more.
I nodded in greeting.
"How long have you been practicing?" I questioned, pushing myself off of the wall. "Your form looks good. You've improved."
"Roughly twenty minutes," I answered, a slight, triumphant smile tugging at my lips. "And thank you. I've still got a long way to go, though. I'm getting the hang of things."
“Have you been practicing with the rapier?” How could one compliment cause his face to light up that much?
"Yes, and I've been trying to cover up my tells as you instructed." I shifted my crossbow to the opposite hand, passing its weight around.
I nodded in approval.
“Good,” my eyes went to his legs. “Gotten used to the weight of the shin guards?”
"I think so, yes." Over the course of the past weak, the added weight on my legs had dulled to a mere annoyance in the back of my mind, nothing particularly noticeable or limiting.
I nodded, walking deeper into the armory, returning with another set of shin guards, except heavier. I handed it to him.
"Change," I ordered. "And then we'll practice your hand-to-hand again."
My excitement does a little at both the sight of the shin guards and the mention of hand-to-hand combat, but I did as he said nonetheless.
The new shin guards were noticeably heavier, but not as unbearable as the first set had initially been, thank god. I stood, setting my crossbow down on a nearby table.
Motioning him to follow me, I walked out of the armory and into the field. It wasn’t as hot as it was the last time we were in the field, but the sun was still blazing angrily.
Making my way into the center, I turned around to face Elliot.
“Start.”
I inhaled deeply, mentally bracing myself. Keep your cool…. Focus. Don't lose focus.
Darting forward, I swung at his head, but the new shin guards had me off balance. Somehow, I managed to dance away before being beaten to a pulp and raised my fists, waiting for him to come to me.
I raised an eyebrow at him, a bit amused at his movements.
“Trouble adjusting?” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Why don’t we get you adjusted first? I’m sure you missed running laps, right?”
My gut twisted, hot shame welling up inside of me, but my carefully crafted expression never faltered.
"Ouch…." I gave a tiny, intentional grimace. "If His Royal Highness orders it…"
“Tell you what…” I murmured, running a finger through my hair, pretending I didn’t notice the hesitance and the grimace. “I’ll join you.”
I’d recently changed my own shin guards and gauntlets, so perhaps I needed some time adjusting to them as well. I should also summon Key, considering he was getting lazy in terms of physical health.
The second I called for him, he appeared, a piece of chicken in his hands. Looking at me, he stuffed it in his mouth.
”We’re running laps,” I said to him. ”Fly and I’ll knock you down.”
He grumbled before setting himself on the floor, swallowing the bite of chicken he stuff in his mouth.
“All right,” I looked back at Elliot. “Let’s start, shall we?”
My heart hiccupped the slightest bit. Prince Colton was going to run with me?
But I only nodded, my expression a mask of calm as I shifted into a starting position, arms at the ready.
"Three…. Two…. One!"
posted prematurely sorry)
(done)
I matched my pace with Elliot’s, though I was more used to running faster.
Once we were done, I wiped my forehead free of sweat, a bit out of breath but not breathless.
“Good enough?” I asked him. “Think you can spar without losing balance?”
I nodded, filling my lungs with air. My forehead was coated in sweat, my legs aching, but definitely enough to be bearable, which I was pleased about.
"Sounds good, yeah," I answered him, pushing my curls back.
“Get in position,” I commanded, reaching to remove my shirt, pulling it over my head and throwing it to the side. Much better. Sweat and I didn’t go well together.
Key snickered, sitting down and folding his wings. I chose to ignore him.
“Three… two… one… go!”