I returned to my training practice the next day, throwing myself rigorously back into it.

Over the final weeks of our preparations, Linx and I learnt that we were among thirty-five noble born Carucans from across the kingdom who would compete against each other for the five positions offered in the army's Elite officer corps. The tournament always took place over two days, a test of stamina as much as strength, tactics and courage, as much as skill.

While competitors arrived at the court, our trainers kept us separated, but we could see them practicing on the designated grass terraces, near our own, giving us the occasion to weigh up the strengths and weakness' of our opponents from a distance.

On the last morning before the trials began, the Master had ordered me and Linx to rest. We were not to attend practise until an hour after the all-night sun began to rise. We had been in the habit of arriving far earlier and working up a sweat before any of the trainers or other competitors were even donning their arms.

As Linx and I walked the terrace from the palace together, nervous anticipation made the bare skin of my arms and legs hum with life. This time tomorrow, the name of our first bouts and challenges would be revealed. This was the last time I would walk these terraces to practice. My last summer confined to the palace.

As soon as I glimpsed our training ground, I knew something was wrong. Our Carucan brother's who, all but sixteen-year-old Amix, would be in the tournament, were not only armed and warmed up, but sparring as though the competition had started.

I only had time to glance at Linx and see my concern reflected in his eyes, when the royal escort came into view, six of my father's most trusted bodyguards, two advisors, then the King and Queen. My stomach rolled. Beside me I felt Linx tense. I steeled myself, setting my eyes forward, wishing I already wore my sword and arms.

We continued down the beaten path, onto the grassy terrace and strode to the edge of the fighting ring. We stood straight and still as was the custom, waiting for Master Alster to welcome us into the dirt ground arena. Usually, he came at once. But today he avoided even looking our way.

The seconds with my back to the King, made my skin crawl. My neck prickled with heat, though it was late-summer now, and the morning's were cold.

I heard the rustle of silk and cloth, and the heavy steps of the guards. My father, surrounded by his entourage, was coming towards me.

'So,' his loud voice boomed across the hillside. 'The Prince of Caruca does not need as much practice as his brothers-in-arms.'

Linx and I both turned. Leaving our backs to the King when he was addressing us, or me, was unacceptable. We bowed low. Among the entourage's sandals, I noted Queen Usas' soft, black training shoes. As far as I was aware she had not practised the warrior arts, Tmàn or Carucan, since her pregnancy began to show. Though she never, of course, worked out with us. She only trained with Lieutenants from the elite core, and my father.

'Rise,' my father ordered. I stood up straight and forced myself to look him in the eye. He was broad shouldered, with a solid, angular face that had grown a shade darker in the four weeks since my sister's parting ceremony. His large brow had acquired another deep line, and his hair seemed greyer than it had at the beginning of summer. 'Are you ready for the tournament?' he asked.

'Yes, your highness.'

'Confidence is only a virtue if it is merited. Is it merited?'

'Yes, your highness.' My hand tightened around the empty belt at my waist where I should have been wearing my sparring sword.

'You are ready for any opponent?'

I tilted my head and eyes in a bow. I knew my father well enough to understand I'd just fallen into one of his traps.

'Very well.'

Queen Usas stepped forward, wearing thick-skinned leather trousers and fitted brown shirt of the Tmàn warriors. It was hard to believe only weeks ago she'd been so big with child. Her lithe, muscular form appeared not to remember. I met her brown eyes and instinctively understood my father's blow of humiliation would be deep and swift. It was only because Usas could hold her own against any officer in the elite corps, only because she was swift of mind and body with a fierce intelligence, that the royal court, army and council had accepted such an untraditional, meddling Queen.

Ordinarily, it would be no dishonour to fall in combat against her. Except the men knew she had not sparred in over six months. I felt my chest tighten.

Linx stepped away, and the Queen took his place. As though this was his cue, Master came across the ring towards us. The thought that Master Alster had purposefully told me to rest longer this morning so that I would not be warmed up for such a battle, scudded my thoughts, leaving a displeasing but familiar sensation. Even those I was closest too, would betray me at my father's request.

Master bowed low. Beside me Usas returned his bow, skipping onto the dirt ring and swinging her bo staff. I did not know her exact age, but she had to be at least ten years younger than my father. Young enough to still move with no limitations; old enough to have years of experience in war, to have faced and delivered death on the field.

I quickly tied my protection chest plate and donned a light, hard-leather helmet. She lunged towards me a moment later.

Her blows were hard, and decisive. Hate steamed off her. I had the deep and awful feeling that she was targeting me as the ultimate embodiment of all her misery. Every strike bore the weight of loss and blame for her stillborn child. She had probably seeded the idea of this confrontation in my father's mind.

I held off her efforts and unstabilised her twice. But then she caught hold of my arm. Her staff slammed against the side of my rib cage, flipped around my back. She twisted my wrist, swinging her stick to fix my arm, so I couldn't resist the contortion. A sharp pain burnt in my shoulder. Her bo staff met my neck with a stinging snap.

'Death strike,' Master shouted.

Usas released me and bowed. I clenched my teeth, returning her salute, resisting the impulse to reach for my damaged shoulder.

Our eyes met. Shock chased away the rushing blood of pain and adrenalin. I knew at once that she had intentionally injured me, intentionally crippled me before the trial. This had been more than an exercise in humiliation.

I felt light-headed. My only thought was not to acknowledge the sprain. If my brother's-in-arms knew of my weakness they would press on it tomorrow. I would be eliminated from the tournament before it had barely begun.

I kept my eyes forward, my body erect, my staff straight in my uninjured arm, and waited for my father to leave.

'Only the foolish confuse arrogance for confidence,' he said. His eyes scorched me. I did not meet his gaze. He had done what he came to do.

Usas was by his side again. The entourage gathered around them. They slowly moved down the terraces, officially welcoming opponents who had come from all over Caruca, to fight in tomorrow's tournament.

Linx appeared at the ring entrance, waiting for Master to allow him to join us. Master Alster clapped his hands.

My other brother's-at-arms returned to the sparring they had dropped the moment the Queen stepped among us. Master saluted Linx and then came to me. I knew at once he understood what had happened. But the regret in his eyes didn't change anything. My chances of placing in the top five had just been diced and quartered.

'Return to your chambers,' he said, eyes flipping left and right to ensure none of the others could overhear us. 'I will send someone to look at you.'

'If you send one of the King's healers, my injury will become public knowledge.'

Master nodded. 'I had someone else in mind. Go. If anyone asks, I will tell them you wished to continue training alone.'

I bowed low, avoiding Linx's questioning look, and left the ring. 

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