I rise, letting my blade dangle, and it scrapes a hollow line along the floor. I rest the point on the ground and lift my chin.

“And what is this purpose that I do not understand?”

“I do not drive you this hard to build skills with a blade or strength in your body. What I desire to strengthen lies within. One day you will be Queen; you cannot afford to have a weak, undisciplined mind.” He rivets his attention on me for a long silent moment before abruptly lifting his arm.

The guard immediately steps forward and raises his weapon.

I frown, then hoist my sword.

The guard’s beady eyes don’t betray an ounce of emotion.

As we parry, I catch a glimpse of my father. I’ve witnessed that satisfied expression before. At the stables, when someone succeeds in breaking a stallion. A wild creature forced to obey.

Chapter Eight

Braizen

I wake to see the others already at work. Even Idalia is active, helping Lin move the horses to a shrouded cove of trees. Torr squats nearby and slides a wet stone against his blade; his cheeks are red, and his eyes heavy. Hunger pains him more than the rest of us. Lorna stretches her arms to the sky and spits. Dark circles rest under her emerald-green eyes. She watches Idalia, and I sense her displeasure. She’s the most resistant to the plan, and can I blame her? We’re half-starved, half-mad from our lack of rest, and reduced to accepting the help of a Verdanian—the Princess of Verdana, of all people.

Her. The reason my kingdom is still at war, and the one who can destroy us all. Yet I can’t dwell on that cruel truth. If we fail today, we’ll die in these woods. The black mist didn’t return for us in the night, but it could have. No one truly slept. Each whistle of wind jerked me fully awake from a sleepy daze. Only when I glimpsed the sun’s rim did I allow myself to drift off entirely.

“Look, our Prince! He lives!” Lorna taunts and smiles at me. “I see my prayers have gone unanswered.”

Torr snorts, pressing the stone harder against his blade. I rub my eyes to shake the grogginess before realizing my futile efforts. I vigorously knead my head and squint up at my red-headed companion.

“Your jokes are even less funny when I’m hungry.”

She shoots me a bleak stare. “Who says I’m joking?”

Torr rises, and his bones make an inhuman creak that only his body can produce. He pulls at the loose waist of his trousers. “Well, today’s the day,” he says, staring into the trees softly, almost mystically.

“The day for what, exactly?” Lorna asks, grabbing Nedson from her belt.

He flashes a toothy grin. “The day we either make history or the day we die trying.”

“Robbing a noble blind is hardly making history, Torr. Especially for us,” I laugh.