Releasing Kiva’s wrist, I watched him go, trying to fit together the pieces of him I’d seen. He wasn’t the boy I’d ridden with in the carriage, trying and failing at civility, nor was he the cruel prince I’d hated in Rhodaire. His flippant comments were like a reflex, as though he’d spent his entire life snapping back and didn’t know how to stop.

Kiva’s gaze drifted to where Auma was piling dishes at an empty table, some of her frustration ebbing. I hid a smile as I said, “I’ll be fine if you want to wait here.”

A very uncharacteristic blush turned her cheeks pink, and she nodded, likely all too happy to go anywhere Ericen wasn’t.

I followed the prince, catching the gaze of one of the soldiers near the fireplace: the boy who’d commented on my scars at dinner. He smiled dangerously. I smiled back until he looked away with a scowl.

The door led out into the courtyard, immediately surrounding me in biting air. I folded my arms over my chest for warmth. Ericen didn’t even seem to notice the chill as he led the way into a massive training area.

There were several distinct sections, from open arenas to archery targets, sword training to endurance courses. Soldiers trained in each one, shouts and the clangs of metal echoing in the courtyard.

On the far side, an open door revealed the empty healer’s quarters. Estrel had once said that Illucian soldiers looked down on healers. Apparently, getting treatment for a wound was akin to throwing your honor into the dirt and stomping on it. It would take a severe injury for soldiers to willingly subject themselves to treatment.

“Saints,” I breathed.

“These are the royal training grounds,” Ericen said. “If you think this is a bit much, you should see the ones at Darkward.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to. There was something about the swift efficiency of every soldier wherever I looked that made me uneasy. No matter their task, they completed it with the utmost power and skill, driving arrows into targets or pinning their opponents without mercy.

The ones who weren’t training stared at us, some with open fascination, some with suspicion. It was the ones who looked disgusted that made me bristle though. Ericen noticed them too, though from the way his expression changed, it seemed he thought they were looking at him. He stared them down, his eyes like jagged ice, until they looked away. He didn’t relax.

“Anyway, I wanted to show you in case you and Kiva wanted to train,” he said, his voice a little tighter now. “It’ll be pretty busy with people training for the upcoming Centerian.”

I stiffened. “The sword tournament?”