The clanging of metal on metal and grunting of men as they sparred filled the normally silent gardens at the back of the Summer palace. There was a stretch of open grass that ran to the property's western wall—large enough for her legion to train on without being pressed too close together. The morning had started with a long and slow jog along the walls, and then they had moved to sparring.

Arynn had been up early—so early that Aleksei hadn't even woken yet, when she'd bathed herself and pulled her hair in a high ponytail at the back of her head. She wore a fine black tunic with a leather belt hanging low on her hip. "Et eefe (At ease)," she said as she strolled past the men who had stopped fighting at the sight of her.

Keelie was on the other side of the field, lying in the shadow of a large tree. He twirled a lock of his curly brown hair around his fingers and bit into a red apple the size of his fist. His compound bow, beautiful and golden and expensive, sat lazily against the tree trunk at his side. "Hello, my love," said Keelie as he stared up straight into her face when her feet stopped at his head. "Took you long enough to get here."

"Get up," she commanded as she grabbed the bow from its resting place. "You're going to learn how to fight with a sword today." Her eyes lit up when one of the infantries walked past her with his helmet tucked under his arm. She said, voice unnervingly sweet, "This good fellow is going to teach you how to spar with a sword and get you battle ready by the end of the week."

The lad, alarmed, asked meekly, "I am?"

"Yes," gritted Arynn as she grabbed the apple from Keelie's hand and bit into it. It was still too early in the morning for her to be training on an empty stomach. She was starving. "If you can turn him into a proper sword wielding soldier by the end of this week, I will have you promoted. And if you can't do it," she grinned. "I'll make you a stable boy. You'd best get to work, infantry."

"He's going to fail and resent you for the rest of his life," said a familiar voice from behind her as Keelie and the footsoldier walk away from her. Arynn looked over her shoulder to find one of the twins—was it Iyer or Withian?—standing behind her. Sweat beaded on his forehead and left fat trails on his neck and cheeks as they rolled down and disappeared into the already soaked collar of his doublet. His hands were folded behind his back, leaving Arynn's eyes to fall on the sword strapped to his hip.

She turned around completely and crossed her arms under her chest as she stared intently at his face. There were few differences between the two princes—both tall and handsome, both with a fair complexion and striking blue eyes. She was almost completely sure it was Iyer who stood in front of her, but then again, she hadn't even noticed a difference in the tavern yesterday, until the real Iyer had walked in. She asked, "How is the cut in your mouth?"

"Healing," the boy in front of her replied without thinking, as he turned those piercing eyes away from her.

"No one came knocking on my door last night," she said conversationally as if they were talking about the weather. She took a tentative step away from him and into the shadow of the tree and allowed herself to relax against the tree. Her finger casually grazed the pommel of her sword, close enough to reach should he try to attack her. "So I assume you haven't told anyone about the little mishap in the tavern yesterday."

Withian looked up toward the branches of the tree and stretched his hand to grab an apple from a low hanging branch. He threw it into the air, watched its ascent with his eyes and then caught it when it descended again. Up, down. Up, down. Over and over again. His voice was dreamy and soft as he said, "I haven't told anyone, no." His eyes cut to hers. "But I do wonder what you'd hoped to achieve with poisoning me."

"Technically," Arynn couldn't stop herself from saying. "I gave you snake venom, which isn't harmful until it directly enters the bloodstream. If I knew you had a cut in your mouth, I wouldn't have done it." She shifted so that her back was pressed flat against the trunk. The light that filtered in through the branches above caught her eyes, making them glow a vibrant shade of emerald. "And I didn't think I was doing it to you. Reix (Hell), I didn't even know you existed until your brother walked in."

"I'm wounded," he said with no discernible emotion. He threw the apple again—up, down. And again. Up, down. He was silent for a moment, and then, "You said that you didn't know I existed until Iyer walked in; which means you thought you were talking to Iyer the entire time. You were trying to poison the heir to the throne."

"Again," she said. "Venom isn't harmful until it goes directly into the bloodstream. Had you not been an accident-prone idiot, nothing would've happened to you—like nothing would've happened to Iyer if he'd been in your place." She pushed herself off of the tree and stood with her spine so straight it burned. "And before you ask, Iyer and I have become vast friends."

Withian choked on a chuckle. "Do you make it a habit of feeding your friends venom?"

"If it's to teach them valuable life lessons," she said. "Then yes."

The amusement made his eyes dance as he tipped his chin down to look into her eyes. There was something mocking about the way his eyes twinkled and his lips pulled to the side as he stared her down. "And which valuable life lesson would that be, sage?"

"That I am not your friend," she answered truthfully. "Not yet."

"And neither am I yours," he said as he bit into his apple. "I can walk away right now and tell everyone in the palace about what you did. Then you'll engagement to Iyer will be off, and then he can find a nice obedient wife who doesn't have an unnerving passion for pouring snake venom in drinks."

She inclined her head. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said. "I can find five different ways to kill without using all of the muscles in my upper body before you can take so much as a step away from me." She took a moment to inhale deeply, and let herself breathe in the sweat and sweet scent of the ripe apples above her. "Why don't we settle this in a match like the big strong fear inspiring men we are? You're a man, aren't you? I know I can be a man when it's necessary."

"What would be the terms of the deal," he asked as he bit into the apple, seeming interested.

"First blood decides who's the winner. If I win, you keep yesterday's mishap to yourself and accept the lesson you learned from it—I am not your friend. And if you win, you can tell anyone you like. Scream it from the top of the bloody spires if you want to. I don't care." She rested her hand on the pommel of her sword, and asked, "Does that sound fair to you, Onat Sahiraiar (Your Highness)?"

Withian drew the heavy broadsword from its scabbard and grinned as the metal sang. "Yes," he said dreamily as he admired the sword in his hand. It was made of dense silver, double-edged with a grip wrapped in black painted leather. The ridge was hollowed out like a channel, and the pommel was a sharp pointed know that glinted menacingly in the sunlight. "That does sound fair."

The sword came down where Arynn's foot had been and left a slice in the earth. She had seen the change in his expression, the shift in his stance and the rolling of his shoulders before he'd brought down the sword with enough power to cut through flesh and bone, and spun to the side. Her hand glanced off the side of the tree's trunk and tore through the skin of her ring finger's fingertip.

She lifted her foot just as he turned his confused and bewildered face toward her. He hissed as he stood up and brought his hand to his face. His fingers weren't pressed close together enough to stop her from seeing the angry red cut next to his eye. She wiped the bottom of her shoe on the grass, and said, "First blood."