The cold air rang with the sharp sound of steel meeting steel, followed by cheers and groans from the watching knights. Julienne felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of her forehead, left arm trembling slightly as she held her blade above her head in a two-handed parry. The vibration caused a stab of pain, and Julienne bit her lip. That wound is deeper than I thought. I need to end this quickly.

Crouching slightly, she ducked under Carter's right arm and whipped her blade down to his torso as she passed, skirt swirling against the top of her boots. Carter leaned back quickly and stepped to the left. Her blade slashed through the cloth of his shirt, but did not hit him. Julienne turned quickly, broadsword held in front of her. She shook her head a little, trying to clear her vision, heart pounding and a warm trickle of blood running down underneath her sleeve. Sparring with sharpened blades and no protective gear was dangerous, but this was the way she preferred it. I cannot learn to rely on protection I will not have if I am ever attacked. No one wears a mail shirt under a silk gown.

Carter stood across from her, grinning broadly and watching for her next move. Sparring with Carter was always a challenge, no matter what Julienne chose to wear. His height and weight gave him a distinct advantage against her more slender build. He knew that if he could force her to parry a repeated barrage of strong strikes, she would tire more quickly than he would. It was up to her to keep the fight moving around the sparring ground, force Carter to chase her and keep him from landing those strong blows.

Carter had been her sparring partner since she was a youth. As the years passed, it had become harder for either of them to gain an advantage, the two learning one another's styles so well that these little matches stretched longer and longer each time. Today's match had already surpassed twenty minutes. If one of them did not win soon, the Master-at-Arms would call the match a draw. An unacceptable alternative, of course.

"Do you wish to call the match? You appear to be fatigued, My Lady," Carter said, his tone jovial.

"Certainly not," Julienne said even as she blinked to clear her vision again. "Do you think I wish to be the laughing stock of the feast tonight?" She lunged forward suddenly, swinging her sword in a two-handed strike to her left. Carter parried, and they exchanged a fast series of blows with one another, more akin to fencing than broadsword fighting.

With each strike, Julienne felt another jolt of pain in her left arm. She had to keep him moving, find a way to shorten his strike radius. Carter's long arms let him make full use of his strength as he brought the blade down toward her again. Restrict his arm movements or knock him down and remove his height advantage. It is the only way to best him. She could not hope to beat him in a straight contest of endurance.

The men of her father's guard were still calling out advice and encouragement, some for her and some for Carter. These bouts always drew a crowd; the men seemed to find it highly entertaining to watch their best fighter be beaten by their lord's daughter. They approve of my training because it makes their task easier. A Baron's daughter who could protect herself needed less looking after.

"Watch him, My Lady!" one of the men called out. Julienne blinked yet again, and realized what the call meant; Carter was attempting to back her into the corner between the castle wall and the steps leading to the wall walk. A flash of red caught her eye; her sleeve was looking rather drenched. Time for something more dramatic.

Julienne allowed herself to be pushed slowly backward, letting some of her fatigue show through. There was a trick she had been wanting to try, but fooling Carter took careful planning, and it would only work if she could truly surprise him.

Carter continued his heavy blows, unrelenting even in the face of her supposed weakening. He knows me too well, Julienne thought, gritting her teeth. He knows I feign exhaustion to put him off his guard. Honestly, she was surprised Carter had not called the match himself long ago. He had called matches for smaller wounds than this. Likely he does not realize this one is serious. Not that she wanted the match called; she had labored hard to win even the small victory of fighting with true blades. Carter was a man of honor, and his Oaths of Knighthood would not allow him to completely ignore that he was sparring with the daughter and heir of his liege lord. If she allowed him to call matches for every injury, he would likely refuse to continue her training altogether.

Finally she saw it, the quick flash in Carter's eyes that always came when he thought he sensed the end of a fight. He is always hasty when he believes he is about to win. They were close to the stairs now, Julienne having carefully maneuvered them to the front rather than the side of the steps. She moved further back, allowing Carter to think that she was going to climb in order to gain the high ground over him. She moved until she felt her boot heels bump against the first step. With a quick motion, she raised her sword arm high, the wall to her right giving her only a small amount of space in which to move. Carter raised his blade in response, rushing forward. Using his momentum against him, Julienne dropped her sword arm quickly, grabbing the front of Carter's shirt with her left hand, driving her shoulder hard into his chest and pivoting them both around. Carter's boots hit the edge of the stairs, and he lost his footing. He grunted as his back thumped down on the stone steps.

Now above him, Julienne kicked at his sword hand with her boot heel, driving it hard against the stone wall with a flurry of skirts. Carter dropped the blade as her own lowered to point directly at his throat, boot still pinning his arm against the wall. The men around the courtyard cheered, the Master-at-Arms loudly calling the fight in her favor. She smiled at Carter, who grinned back.

"Well played, My Lady," he said as she released his arm. He sat up, still perched on the steps. "I thought for certain you were trying to take the higher ground. How long have you been waiting to use that particular trick?"

"A good while," Julienne said. "I could not have done it when I was fifteen, but at twenty-five, I think I have gained a sufficient amount of strength to knock over even you, Sir Carter. The stairs were merely leverage to ensure that you tripped at the right moment." He shook his head, still smiling at her... a very blurry smile to her eyes. "Oh dear," she said softly as her head began to swim in earnest. The adrenaline from the fight was leaving her, and with it her ability to fight off her dizziness.

Carter's expression grew instantly serious. "My Lady?" She tried to wave him off, but he was already on his feet, gripping her arm to examine the blood-soaked slash in the sleeve.

"White linen always makes a cut look worse than it is," she said, a touch louder than necessary. The men were still surrounding them. Better they do not know the extent of this particular wound. "I will be fine," she added in an undertone as Carter frowned at her. "Help me to the healer's rooms, and Elayne will see that it is dealt with it." Carter nodded in understanding, but his brow remained creased. A page scurried up to retrieve their swords as they left the training ward. As they reached the arched doorway into the main courtyard, Sir Emonds stepped through it. His grey eyes darted immediately to Julienne's sleeve, and his brows rose. Julienne smiled as best she could.

"Sir Emonds, I hope you are looking forward to the feast this evening." He bowed to her, but did not speak, his lips pressed in a hard line. Nudging Carter, Julienne bobbed a quick curtsey, ignoring another little fit of dizziness, and hurried them both along. He'll go to Lady Duval for certain, if not straight to Father this time. As the head of the castle's knights, Sir Emonds was charged with her safety. He did not approve of the risks she encouraged Carter to let her take on the sparring grounds.

"Julienne, you cannot keep doing this whenever we spar," Carter muttered under his breath as they passed into the bustling courtyard. "You know your father would—,"

"I am sorry, of course. It was foolish of me to put winning ahead of the injury. But please do not harp, Carter. It is already done. If Father hears of it, I will tell him it is my fault, and that you had no idea just how badly I was hurt until after the fight was over."

"You know he will find out," Carter replied, gripping her elbow harder as she swayed a little and moving her around a loaded hay cart. "Emonds will tell him, or Lady Duval will. A few of the other lads likely noticed too. He will know one way or another. Perhaps it is time we stopped sparring together."

"Carter, we have been over this. Father agrees that my training is important. Besides, there is a long tradition of the ladies of the Baronies learning how to defend themselves."

"And how many of them insisted on being put through the same training as the battlefield knights?"

"I have no idea. Scholar Merrier has not discussed that with me in my history lessons, and Lady Duval certainly will never admit that any lady has knowledge of blade work. She insists it is beneath our dignity to carry a sword." They had reached the door to the craftsmen's ward by now. Carter continued to support her, one hand on her elbow, the other pressed tightly around her upper arm to staunch the flow from her wound.

All of the castle wards were designed in a similar style. Rows of stone rooms dedicated to various trades ran along the walls, with an open space in front of each that was covered with a thatched roof. Above this was a second row, set with windows rather than doors. Wheelwrights, tailors, carpenters, chandlers... all plied their trades and made their homes within the castle walls. The guards had their barracks near the training grounds in a similar configuration, between the main courtyard and the stable ward.

"Elayne?" Carter called as they stepped into the last door on the right. Elayne, the castle healer, was an elderly woman with long, grey hair, and sturdy, wrinkled hands. She responded at once to Carter's summons, coming out from the back rooms, a cloth in her hands; no doubt she was drying them after a quick rinse in water. Without a word, Elayne waved for Julienne to seat herself on a chair beside the large trestle table that filled the center of the room. Bending down, she rolled up Julienne's sleeve with deft fingers and clicked her tongue in disapproval as she examined the wound.

"This will require stitching, My Lady," she said, handing a clean cloth to Carter. "Press this firmly against the wound. I will make something to dull the pain and restore your strength before I begin." Julienne watched silently as Elayne moved around the room, fluid even in her advanced years. She pulled down several bottles and jars, adding pinches of their contents to a stone mortar that stood on the table in the middle of the room. A few quick motions of the pestle ground the whole thing into a fine powder, which she transferred to a cup. Boiling water from the kettle by the fire was added next. Elayne brought the cup to Julienne, and the smell of herbs wafted through the air. "Drink it all, My Lady, while I prepare my things."

"You truly are the greatest healer in the province," Julienne said as she accepted the cup.

"I would prefer it if you did not require so much healing, My Lady," Elayne said with a pointed look, then left the room.

Julienne blew on the liquid, then took a cautious sip. "I am not injured as often as all that," she muttered.

"More than any of us would like," Carter replied, hooking a second chair with his boot and pulling it over to himself. He positioned it next to Julienne's and sat down without dislodging the cloth he held over her arm.

"It is an advantage," Julienne insisted between sips. "Being acquainted with the pain of injury is invaluable preparation."

"Yes, but pushing yourself beyond your strength when badly injured is not." Carter sighed, sounding resigned. "I do not wish our last evening before my departure to end in an argument. I will forebear, this once."

"A wise choice," Julienne replied. She drained the last of the liquid, setting the empty cup on the table. Already she thought the pain in her arm had lessened somewhat. "Let us talk of your journey instead. I suppose you are pleased to be chosen to lead the next seeking party?"

"It is an honor to serve my king, though I will not pretend there are not things I will regret leaving behind." For some reason, Carter flushed as he said this. He kept his eyes on the cloth as he spoke. "To be honest, there is something I have been hoping to discuss with you before I go."

Julienne raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Carter looked back at her again. "Julienne, we have... we are friends, are we not?"

"Of course," Julienne said, surprised. This uncertain behavior was most unlike him.

He nodded. "And it is not unusual for... friends to—to trust one another." It was not a question.

"I should say not." What are you driving at, Carter? Julienne thought, narrowing her eyes slightly. Then it dawned on her. The flushed face, the hesitant speech... "Carter, have you finally chosen a maiden to court?" she asked in an amused tone, smiling at the thought. Carter had been the gallant flirt of nearly every lady in Woodbridge at one time or another since his youth. The idea that one of them might finally have managed to catch him was highly entertaining.

"As you have put it so bluntly, yes, I suppose I have."

"I congratulate you," Julienne said, her smile growing. "Pray tell me which of our fair ladies you intend to favor with your addresses. Do not say it is the Lady Linne, or I may be required to question your sanity." She expected him to laugh at this remark, but he surprised her again by flushing once more, clearly embarrassed. He did not look away this time, however; he merely stared steadily at her as silence stretched between them. Oh... oh dear.

Carter took a breath, shoulders rising, then spoke. "Julienne, I wish to ask you if—,"

"Have you finished that infusion, My Lady?" Elayne asked, bustling back into the front room with her hands full of cloth, gut, needle, and a lit candle. Carter's mouth snapped shut.

Julienne started slightly, unconsciously leaning back, away from Carter. "Oh, yes, I have." She glanced at him, trying to judge the expression on his face. He was taking care to remain neutral, and he seemed to be avoiding her gaze. Elayne walked around the table and chivvied Carter out of his chair. He rose without a word, moving too quickly to stand behind it instead. Elayne seated herself and removed the cloth from Julienne's arm to begin cleaning the wound.

"No water on this until sunset tomorrow," she said as she worked. "Have Lady Duval wrap it well before you bathe for the feast this evening. Then come to me in five days and we will see how it is getting on."

Julienne nodded absently, still watching Carter over Elayne's shoulder. Was he truly about to—but certainly not. Yet his behavior had suddenly become so very odd. The air in the little room had grown entirely too hot, and Julienne realized her own cheeks felt rather flushed.

"There, that should be all, My Lady," Elayne said, breaking into Julienne's thoughts. Julienne blinked and looked down at the neat linen bandage wrapped about her arm. I did not even notice the stitching. "I trust you will ensure she is returned to her apartments without further mishap?" Elayne continued, glancing sharply at Carter.

"Of course," he replied. His voice was a little too calm, his gaze still averted from her.

"Good lad." Elayne nodded as she began to gather up her things. "I shall send up some more of these herbs for you in case the pain increases, My Lady."

Julienne stood up. Her arm was still throbbing, but the herbs had reduced it to a dull ache. "My thanks, Healer Elayne." Elayne bobbed a curtsey, then waved them from her room.

Back out in the ward, Carter reached for Julienne's elbow again. "Are you able to walk, or do you need assistance again?"

"Really, Carter, you act as though you have never had a wound stitched before. I can manage perfectly well." Julienne kept her tone light, though her nerves felt rattled. Carter stepped away slightly, and they crossed back into the main courtyard in awkward silence.

Though the sun was beginning to set, the wall gates were still up, and the main courtyard was bustling with people, horses, carts, and guards. It was the first feast night of autumn, and the castle would be full of activity far into the night. Is it already so late?

"I must go and dress for the feast," Julienne said abruptly. "I will be needed in the Ladies' Chamber to entertain the guests."

"I should at least see you to your door."

Julienne shook her head. Too quick. "And make it easier for Lady Duval to scold you about my injury? I think not."

Carter smiled somewhat reluctantly as they stopped at the bottom of the steps leading to the castle's ponderous oak doors. "About what I said, in the healer's rooms—,"

"We can discuss it another time," Julienne cut in, again berating herself mentally for her hasty response. There will not be another time. He is leaving with the seeking party tomorrow morning. They stood there, avoiding one another's gaze until the silence became too uncomfortable for Julienne to bear. Without another word, she turned and fled up the castle steps.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The castle hall was more crowded than usual for a feast night. Carter glanced around at the assembled guests, seated at the long tables in order of rank. He stood at the far end of the feasting dais, where Baron Aldon and his chosen guests would sit. The tables closest to the dais held the nobles of Woodbridge and other villages and towns across the province. Behind these were the tables for their various guards, waiting women, and lower ranking families. The rest of the tables were filled with a mixture of merchants, workers, servants, farmers, and others from the lower classes. All were welcome at the castle for a feast night. Especially the night before a new seeking party sets out, Carter thought. Everyone wants to be part of the farewell feast, to send as much good fortune as they can with us when we go.

He looked about the hall until he spotted a group of men near the center of the room. They sat close to one another, some with families beside them, and all had the tired look of men who had spent too long on the road. The last seeking party had returned unsuccessful. Carter had already met with their leader, discussing the parts of the land they had searched, and which threads of rumor were most likely to prove fruitful.

Seeking the lost prince was an honor, of course. Only the best of the province's men were entrusted with the task. Carter still felt a sense of gratitude when he thought back on his last meeting with Baron Aldon. He was to lead the search, which would last for one year, as was the tradition. If they were unable to find the prince in that time, a new seeking party would relieve them of the search. If they succeeded, the men under Carter's command would receive handsome rewards, and Carter himself would receive a place in His Majesty's Royal Guard, along with a small land holding.

It is a great honor, to be sure. One I would almost be glad to dispense with if it meant I did not have to leave before speaking with Julienne about... the future. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Even to himself, it was difficult to give voice to his hopes. His love for Julienne had come on him gradually, surprising him with its strength. They had always been friendly, drawn together by both necessity and mutual interests. It was cruel irony that he had only become aware of his feelings once required to leave her behind.

A knock sounded behind him, and Carter stepped forward, turning to pull open the door he had been guarding. A hush fell over the hall, broken only by the scraping of chairs as everyone got to their feet. Baron Aldon stepped through the door and walked to his seat in the middle of the dais table, followed by Julienne and her lady-in-waiting, Lady Duval. This last lady gave him a cold glance as she passed. It seemed she had indeed decided to blame him for Julienne's most recent injury. She is right to blame me. Am I not responsible for Julienne's safety?

Across the dais, Sir Emonds had opened the door he guarded to allow the rest of Baron Aldon's chosen guests to take their places. Only the chairs at the ends of the table were left empty, waiting for Sir Emonds and Carter to fill them. Baron Aldon waited until the last of the guests had passed through the doors, and Carter and Sir Emonds had taken their places in front of their chairs, before raising a hand and addressing the gathered crowd.

"Friends, I bid you heartily welcome on this, the first feast night of the autumn season! Please, be seated." Carter sat along with everyone else in the hall. Only the Baron remained standing, waiting to continue with his remarks.

Down the table, Carter could see Julienne sitting to the right of her father. Her long, golden hair had been curled and left unbound, except for a small net of woven gold and pearls ornamenting the back of her head. She wore a gown of deep blue silk that he was certain would match her eyes if she turned to look at him. Beautiful, as always. At the moment, her gaze was directed up toward her father, her posture one of attention to his words.

"As you know, this year marks the fifth since His Highness, the Prince Embrand disappeared. As is our custom, we welcome home those men who have spent the last year serving our province in the search for the lost prince." Baron Aldon bent and picked up his goblet. Carter wrapped a hand around his own, the tradition familiar to him. "We thank you for your service and hail you, honored seekers." He lifted his hand toward the table of men Carter had observed before.

"Hail!" the assembly called in unison, all raising their goblets in imitation of the Baron. Carter lifted his as well, then lowered it as Baron Aldon continued his speech.

"We also honor those who are to make up our next party of seekers. Like their returned companions, these men represent the bravest and best our fair province has to offer its king. Their leader, Sir Carter Rowlan, will proceed with the company early on the morrow. Sir Carter, we wish you and your men a fortunate and safe journey." Baron Aldon now held his goblet up toward Carter. The gathered company also raised their goblets, this time in silence. Carter made a fist with his right hand and placed it over his heart, bowing his head in the traditional gesture of gratitude. A flash of blue caught his eye, and he stole a quick glance at Julienne; she was looking at him, her goblet raised like the others, but her expression was guarded. Unreadable. What does she think about what happened between us earlier? Why could I not say what I wished when I had the chance?

Baron Aldon set down his goblet. "And now, I invite you all to partake of our excellent autumn—," he cut off abruptly, staring across the hall with a sudden look of concern on his face. Carter followed his gaze. A liveried messenger had entered the hall at a dash, and now stood stock still in the middle of the rows of tables, breathing heavily.

"I bring a message from the Royal Palace in Cirin!" the man said loudly, voice echoing slightly despite the number of people filling the space. "King Halbard... is dead!"

***********

Hello, Everyone! I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek at my first foray into fantasy writing. If you would like to read more of my work and stay up-to-date on announcements about future projects, release dates, and such, feel free to check out my Wattpad profile. I am also very active on Twitter, where I host the #ShareWords writing game and participate in several others run by fellow indie authors.

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