“You better hope I do, little prince. It’s the only way you’re getting dinner tonight.”

A snapped twig. Try again. A rustle of leaves. Try again. A rustle of his trousers against a bush. Try again. Those two words became the bane of his existence. As his frustration grew, he attempted to catch her cheating. He stood perfectly still, barely breathing, and let a full minute pass. If she blamed a bird or a gentle gust of wind for his own movements then he could claim the exercise pointless. Yet her silence matched his own. If anything, it only made it worse when the first step he took, accompanied by a frustrated sigh, immediately caught her attention.

“Try again, and do it faster, would you? I’m getting hungry myself.”

Exhaustion kept his frustrations in check. Try again. Try again. Try again.

He slumped to the ground, his back against a tree, as Stasia gave some sort of advice about footwork. The words weren’t making sense anymore. His stomach hurt. No, everything hurt. Tired and drained, he shed tears that made him feel ashamed and angry in equal measure. The ground was cold, but it felt so good to sit still. His knees curled closer to his chest for warmth. He could start another attempt after a minute. He just needed to gather himself. One moment. That’s all. One breather. When the tears were gone, he would be ready.

Arms lifted him. His feet moved, walking of their own accord.

“Stasia?” he asked, confused and groggy. The stars were out. The woods were pitch black.

“Come along, little prince,” she said, her shoulder tucked under his arm, his weight so heavily leaned upon her, she might as well have carried him. “It’s been a long day. Let’s get you to a proper bed.”

CHAPTER 7

CYRUS

Cyrus awoke to ships burning. He bolted upright, hands clutching the front of his thin shirt hard enough that his fingers ached. Sweat poured down his face. The world around him was red and black, flame and ash, and in the distance he heard the screams of dying soldiers and the clash of metal. Piercing all of it was his mother’s anguished, pain-filled shriek as Magus…

His surroundings darkened as he returned to the waking world. No. No screams, no metal. No smoke or ash. Just a dream, the same dream that had haunted him for years now.

“It’s fine,” he whispered into the cool night air. “You’re fine.”