Calix watched the sun drift below the horizon, darkness claiming the land and drowsiness claiming him. On the table before him was a half-finished letter to Arcturus. The general had threatened to beat him into the ground if Calix didn't stay in contact, and was probably the only man in the empire who could see that threat through.

And he was starved for news of the Second. After he'd left the princess, he'd hobbled down to the guard's barracks. The boy he remembered had helped him into the castle was the first one he ran into.

The boy had offered him a cheerful smile, but judging by the nervous sweat and rushing footsteps, he was late for something. Still, he'd taken a moment to direct Calix to the captain's office. 

It had been disappointing to learn that the only reports from Brunia came from the Fourth Legion, and those had only been concerning the headway they were making with the roads from the two ports they had managed to establish.

According to the captain, they hadn't been receiving consistent communication from the Second or the Sixth. A letter from Arcturus had found him a day after his arrival, but had hardly contained more than a few pleasantries. This all made Calix suspect that the communication lines in Brunia were being watched. Or worse, intercepted.

Otherwise Arcturus would have let him know if the men had been able to return to full rations or not. 

As it was, Calix was having a difficult time eating. He literally couldn't stomach the idea of eating well every night while his men either went hungry or were forced to subsist on the wretched gruel the kitchens served in an effort to stretch grain rations.

Even now he could only look at the meal one of the servants had brought up to his rooms. Delicate slices of tender roast chicken with rich gravy. Sautéed  asparagus drizzled with olive oil and finely chopped garlic. Fluffy white bread rolls with butter already melted and golden in their centers.

He'd managed a few bites of chicken before his stomach had twisted with guilt. Even the rich red wine had tasted sour.

How utterly bizarre life was, when he could force himself to eat the atrocities the army called food, while the fare served at the king's table made him want to vomit.

Calix turned back to his letter. What was he even supposed to write, aside from inquiries after the men? He couldn't say anything about his affair with the crown princess. He wasn't about to share the details of his injury with a man he'd once watched brush off a wound that nearly flayed his hand to the bone. Which left him with absolutely nothing else to write about.

How terrible to think that boredom or uselessness would kill him before a sword ever got the chance.

His stomach growled viciously, his body's needs momentarily overriding his mind's reservations. Calix snatched up one of the rolls, tearing off a sizeable piece with his teeth.

The sweet white bread made him groan with momentary delight before he swallowed and immediately had to concentrate on not gagging. His men were potentially starving and he was eating like... a lord.

He hissed in disgust and shoved the plate away, nearly sending it over the edge of the low table between the two armchairs before the empty fireplace. The servants had offered to stoke a fire, but even with the mornings turning chill as winter crept toward Levitum, it was still warmer than Calix had recently been accustomed to.

Candles spaced around the rooms cast everything in softly wavering, golden light. He was warm and comfortable and could be well-fed. Every luxury in the empire was at his fingertips. He even had a gorgeous woman warming his bed. 

And he would rather be shivering in a tent, freezing his ass off and waiting for the next attack.

Perhaps his father had been right, all those years ago.

Calix was not suited for court, even with his breeding. Briefly, he wondered if his father had seen the vicious creature that lurked within his son, even back then. But the idea was quickly dismissed.

His father hadn't sent him away out of concern for his happiness. 

With a sigh, he debated whether it would be worth it to walk all the way into his bedchamber to retrieve the book he had been reading yesterday. As he considered, his eye was caught by the flickering flame of one of the tall, slender, white candles on the table before him.

Entranced, he watched the tiny flame dance and waver. He shifted down in his chair, letting his head rest against the velvet back of the comfortably stuffed armchair.

Calix slipped fitfully into sleep, just to find himself in a dream.

Blood covered him. He could feel it, slippery between his fingers. He could taste it in his mouth. It stuck his eyelashes together and steamed in the cold air. There was no panic. He'd been here before. Dispassionately, he glanced at the arrows sticking out of his arm.

Looking up, he let his breath frost in the air as more snow fluttered around him.

Then he looked down and stumbled back from the corpse at his feet.

His corpse. 

Clean, dressed in a shirt white as the snow beneath him with a wound across his throat bright as rubies. He watched his own blood leach across the snow. Overhead, a falcon screamed.

A hand on his shoulder had his eyes flying open, his hand instinctively going to his hip, searching for the comforting grip of a sword. The light from the candles was too bright, blurring his vision. His heart pounded too hard in his chest.

"What was your dream?"

His head snapped to the side at the soft voice, and his heart slowed when he found the princess sitting in the chair across from him, watching him gravely. Calix opened his mouth to find it dry as a Metian salt mine.

"What did you dream?" she asked again, her voice unbearably soft.

She didn't need to know. So he shrugged, even as his own blank eyes danced in his head. "Nothing."

"It did not sound like nothing," she said, narrowing her eyes.

His body had been so... clean. No blood, no bruising. No sweat or dirt. Nothing to indicate that he had earned his death. Nothing to indicate that he had found himself in the golden wood of Eternity, following the trails that would lead him to those glorious halls of great warriors.

A chill skittered down his spine, but he merely shook his head and offered a lazy smile to the princess. "Nice of you to join me, Your Highness."

She leveled a narrow gaze on him like she was about to demand an answer, then shook her head. Instead, her eyes roved over his barely-touched dinner, then the half-finished letter. He waited for her to ask, but all she said was, "I seem to remember you saying something about picking up a sword if I survived this morning."

Calix relaxed minutely. "So I did."

The princess gave him a smug smile, then stood with a groan that made him laugh. She stuck her tongue out at him, then shrugged out of that same purple dress she had worn the other day to reveal nothing but the trousers he'd given her this morning and bands of linen securing her breasts.

His eyes slid over her bare shoulders, her collarbones, down the sweeping line of her bare waist. Then he shook his head, attempting to clear those thoughts from his mind.

He slowly stood, his ankle complaining a little, but not enough to be a true deterrent—especially when he didn't intend on doing much footwork anyway. It would seem he hadn't injured it as badly as he had feared.

He went into his bedchamber, scooping up the practice swords he had retrieved when he went to talk to the captain. He'd earned a fair number of odd looks hauling them up to his rooms this morning.

Cassia startled when he tossed one to her, nearly dropping it. Then she frowned and slid her finger along the dull edge, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Did you think we were going to start with something that could cut off fingers?" Calix asked.

She held the sword in front of her, grimacing as the weight pulled at what he assumed were sore muscles through her chest, shoulders and back. Then she gave him a sly look. "Is that worry I hear, General? From the man who attacked Grana by himself?"

His expression darkened and his voice was harsher than he intended when he said, "I didn't go in by myself." He turned and pulled his shirt over his head. "I just came out alone."

There was a soft gasp behind him, but he didn't give her the chance for pity or horror or whatever she wanted to aim at him. Instead, he spun the hilt of the sword in his hand, getting used to the weight and balance.

"I wasn't worried about my fingers, Your Highness," he said with a leer.

She curled her lip at him and he waited for her to start mouthing off again, like she had this morning. His eyes narrowed, ready to snarl back. They didn't have the time for him to take the soft approach, and the princess couldn't afford to not have the realities of the world shoved in her face. He would be doing her no favors treating her gently in these lessons.

Especially if she really was mad enough to go to Brunia.

But all she did was toss her heavy braid back and stalk away from the chairs, toward the empty space before the door. She rested the dull tip of the sword against the stone, making him cringe out of habit, then watched him expectantly.

He stood across from her, holding his sword ready. The balance was off, trying to pull the sword's tip toward the ground. 

Then he settled into a fighting stance, feet staggered and knees slightly bent for balance. Before he could say anything, Cassia copied him.

"Just a few basic blocks tonight, Princess," Calix said.

She opened her mouth and he again braced himself for an argument. He had played this game before, with new recruits who didn't appreciate a properly honed defense, much preferring the flashier aspects of a well-executed attack. Generally he showed them their error by beating them into the ground and was prepared to do the same with the princess.

Though... he frowned to himself, it probably wouldn't be very wise to leave bruises all over the Heir.

"Very well," she said, her voice restrained.

Calix blinked at her stupidly for a moment. Then: "Aren't you going to whine about how you need to learn more than that?"

She drew herself up stiffly. "I do not whine." He snorted and the princess lifted her sword. Glaring at him, she said, "You're a rather unpleasant person to train with."

"You didn't want me for my personality," he said snidely. She made a face at him, and he sighed, the sound long and annoyed enough to make her hiss. 

"Much of this is instinctual," he said, quickly changing the subject. "See me move, and respond."

Calix started slowly, in a broad, overhead swing she couldn't possibly miss. And if she did... no amount of instruction would help. Her pupils widened and she raised her sword, catching his blow on the broadside of her blade.

He looked down, pleased to find her feet had naturally staggered to give her a firm base. She had both hands on the hilt of the sword, but he allowed it for the moment.

This was more about seeing her raw potential anyway.

Moving just a touch faster, he let his blade slide off hers before striking at her right side. Cassia let out a small grunt and swung her sword down, batting the blow away.

She had turned, offering an open left. Calix poked her in the ribs, making her yelp and back away from him. He tilted his head. "If that was a knife, you'd be dead."

"Then perhaps you should teach me how to avoid that," she hissed, raising her sword again. "Perhaps you should actually teach me something."

"I am," Calix said simply, angling a blow down to the side of her neck. Cassia twisted and threw herself backwards, her sword flashing wildly through the air. She smacked into the wall and Calix lunged forward.

He pinned her with a forearm held gently against her throat, and pressed the tip of the sword against her belly. "Dead again, Princess. Pay attention to your surroundings," he growled, making his tone condescending.

Rage flared in her eyes, and he froze when cold steel kissed against the side of his chest, just under his arm. Glancing down, he found she had managed to angle her sword in a way that would have been problematic if she wanted him dead.

But all he did was smirk. "Very good, Your Highness. Most armor designs have an unfortunate weakness beneath the arm." He disengaged, but she remained against the wall, watching him.

Returning to the center of the room, he gestured for her to stand in the spot before him. "We're not done." Cassia didn't move and he snarled, "Don't make me drag you over here."

"It was bad, wasn't it?" she asked. "Your dream."

Calix startled slightly, letting his arm fall to his side. "What makes you say that, Your Highness?" 

The princess walked forward until she was standing right before him. Once more, her face was grave as she said, "When you woke up, there was fear in your eyes."

Calix could only stare at her. Then, tonelessly, he said, "It was nothing more than a dream."

"It could have been something more," she said, lowering her voice.

Calix scoffed. "Sorry, Princess, but I doubt Corlana cares enough about me to send a dream." When she opened her mouth to press the issue, he snapped, "It was just an old nightmare. Nothing more."

She didn't need to know how much it had rattled him. In reality, the less they knew about one another, the better.

So he stepped back and raised his sword, lightly tapped it against the princess' wrist. Her eyes shuttered, but she raised her sword. Briefly, he showed her the proper blocks.

Again, he swung for her head, her side, her shoulder. Every time she left her side open he swore viciously at her, jabbing his fingers against her vulnerable ribs, and she swore back at him.

Over and over and over, the same pattern until they were both sweating and the princess trembled every time she lifted her sword.

When he landed a blow that took the sword clean from her hands, steel clattering against stone, he said, "That's enough for tonight."

Cassia stared blankly at the sword, like she was trying to decide why it was there, rather than in her hand. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, sweat dripping down the side of her face. Calix peered across the room to a clock sitting on the mantle. They'd been at it for over half an hour—longer than he'd intended.

"Your Highness," he said softly, making her start, her eyes flashing up to his. She gazed at him for a long moment, then grimaced.

"I hadn't realized I was putting myself at the mercy of such a brutal teacher," she said, examining her hands. To his dismay, he found the remnants of torn blisters across her palms.

He should have taken into account that she had never worked with her hands. Carefully, he took her hand, examining the torn skin. Glancing up, he asked, "Why didn't you say something?"

Her only answer was a droll look and a shrug.

"I am not brutal, Your Highness," he said, waving for her to follow him into the bathing room.

Cassia sat on the edge of the pool and he joined her near the faucet after grabbing a washing cloth. He ran cool water over the cloth and took her left hand. She hissed as he cleaned the torn skin, but didn't pull away.

"Yes you are," she finally said. "Foulmouthed, hard-driving, brutal taskmaster."

"The world is what's brutal," he corrected. He finished with her hands and twisted to face her, cleaning the sweat from the side of her neck. "It would be a disservice to you if I was gentle. If I coddled you, you would hate me for that and look for another instructor. One you felt took you seriously." He smiled. "I would much rather you dislike me for being foulmouthed and brutal."

Something warm flickered in her eyes—melting the ice that had been there while they trained—and she leaned forward, kissing him. She tasted like salt. Then she pulled away with a small laugh. "You could be hanged for the way you speak to me when we train."

Calix shrugged, swiping the cloth along her collarbone. "I won't treat you any different than the other soldiers I've trained, Your Highness. We have five months, and it will be a hard five months. But by the end of it, you'll be a rather fine swordsman."

Her mouth quirked in amusement, and she gently tugged his hand away from where it rested against her collarbone. Standing, she said, "You're rather prideful too."

"I am simply good at what I do," he returned, following her into the drawing room. Calix grabbed her wrist, pulling her back into him. A shudder ran through her when he kissed the corner of her jaw.

But then she drew away from him and headed toward the fireplace, giving him a devilish grin. "I think I've let you make me sweat enough today, my lord."

Calix crossed his arms, leaning against the cool stone of the open doorway to the bathing room. Slowly, she put on her dress, then turned away. When she started on the ties up the back, he crossed the room and trapped her hands.

An unsuccessfully stifled laugh shook her. "After being so rude you expect me to simply fall into your bed?"

"Why bother with the bed when there's a perfectly nice floor right here," he whispered in her ear.

Cassia laughed again, turning and placing her hand on his chest to stop him. A half-smile played at her mouth as she skirted around him. "Perhaps if you apologize I'd be inclined to."

"Apologize?" he growled, pitching the sound to be playful. "Whatever for, Your Highness?"

She raised a dark brow. "Waking me before the sun? Leaving me dead sore all day? Your harsh words when we train?"

He almost winced. It had been difficult speaking to a woman in the same way he spoke to the men he trained. He had balked at the cruel tone and foul words, but he knew no better way to forge that steel spirit of hers into a honed blade.

Warriors were born in fire and blood, and the princess could not be an exception. Not if she was to accomplish what she wanted to.

So he walked slowly forward, backing her toward the wall. "You will have to continue to rise before the sun, so apologizing for that seems disingenuous."

Cassia thumped back against the wall, and he placed a hand on either side of her head. "You're only sore because you've never pushed your body before. Why should I apologize for something that's not my fault?" 

She scowled at him, placing a hand on his bare chest to keep him back. He pressed lightly against it. "Your words are as harsh as mine." He grinned. "You've a filthy mouth, Your Highness." He let his gaze flicker down to her full lips. "I must confess a longing to see what else that sharp tongue can do."

A blush fanned across her cheekbones, but her mouth twisted in disapproval. Calix swallowed when her hand trailed down his stomach, stopping just at his belt. "Cruel man," she purred. "Don't you know the state you left me in this morning?"

"Quite well," he breathed. She let him press just a bit closer. "But as I recall, Princess, you asked me to leave you in such a state."

Her lips parted, either in surprise or to fire back at him, but he didn't give her the opportunity as he crushed his mouth to hers. She melted against him and he slipped his hand between the wall and her back. The princess moaned when he began to massage the taut muscles of her upper back.

She let him start to pull her back to his bedchamber, then gasped and broke the kiss. When he tilted his head, she grimaced and said, "We should perhaps be more careful of the time we spend together, my lord."

Calix continued to move his fingers over her back, a low groan of either pain or relief escaping her. Looking frustrated, she explained, "Marcus knows of our affair."

"Prince Marcus?" he asked, brows drawing together. Calix had never met the man, but he'd heard enough stories to understand that the concerned tone of Cassia's voice was warranted.

"No, Marcus the kitchen boy." She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Prince Marcus. And..." she sighed, "I suspect he'll keep it secret until it will most benefit him. Which means we should perhaps move more carefully."

He sighed, letting his grip on her loosen. But she didn't pull away. Instead, deep thought made her eyes turn distant. All he could do was wait.

Softly, she said, "The castle is busier in the mornings. There are more people to see us come and go from our rooms. And Marcus' rooms are closer to my own, as are the rest of my family's. And we have perhaps been a little... eager... since we met."

He smirked. That was one way to say it.

Cassia looked up at him and sighed. "Don't come to my rooms anymore. I will come to you. But I can't stay until the morning."

That seemed reasonable enough to him. He nodded his agreement and Cassia sighed once more, sounding possibly disappointed.

But before he could decide if that was indeed what she was, the princess cupped her hand around the back of his neck and yanked him down into a hard kiss. He groaned and clutched at her hips, pushing her toward the bedchamber.

Pulling her mouth from his, she gasped, "Didn't you say something about a perfectly nice floor?"

Calix laughed as she sank to the cool stone, pulling him down with her. The laugh turned to a growl of pleasure when she undid his belt, her fingers gliding ever lower.

What a dream she would be once he was back on the frontlines.