Five Years Later

Joi spun on the spot, sweeping her right leg behind her, absorbing the blow from their connecting swords. Sparks flew, gold and silver, as the blades kissed along their edges. With another spin, she swung the sword out in a graceful arc, to attack from the other side. Sohar raised his blade, meeting her downward slash again. Hers slid down, hooking on his hilt as their gazes met across the touching steel.

Defeat wasn't easy for her. Flipping backward so her foot collided with his chest, she dislodged their blades and sent him stumbling. She landed in a crouch to absorb the force. Gripping her sword with both hands, she raised it in front of her face in case he caught her off guard. Arching a brow in query, she taunted Sohar with a smirk.

"You are well-matched." Mentor Selat clasped his hands behind his back. He strolled on to observe another sparring pair.

She spared him but a glance. She didn't believe they were well-matched, with herself the lesser. Xiaxan required stamina, focus, strength, and self-discipline. It wasn't easy to manipulate air to gain height and range in battle. Using weapons such as spears, swords, and daggers, meant extending her perception of her physical limits.

Joi could recall the day Sohar arrived for Xiaxan training—the young man with white hair as striking as any she had ever seen. His unspoken displeasure was evident to all, that a girl was a trainee alongside him. He had never voiced his opinion nor given her an advantage due to her gender. This was why she preferred to spar with him, despite his obvious disapproval. Over the years, she had grown to respect him. His steadfast attitude, his strength of justice, his applied wisdom—all served to alter her assessment of his character.

"Too much Redanta last night?" she teased, then chuckled when his snort crossed the gravel training circle. "Not up to the challenge?"

"Joi-Joi," he said, reprimanding her for attempting to distract him.

That she adored his name for her was something she didn't share with anyone. She loved it when he called her "Princess" too. Perhaps any name spoken in his rumbling voice pleased her.

He lunged for her, crossing the distance in a single bound. His sword led his charge, the tip of which came perilously close to her cheek. The cut burned, but she didn't dwell on it. Diving into the strike, she threw a punch, connecting with his sternum, before spinning to the side of him to tap his temple with the hilt of her blade. That was the plan. The punch landed, but the sidestep forewarned him. He twisted out of the way, bringing his blade around in a smooth arc.

She rolled forward, missing the sharp edge by a finger's width. Dropping her blade, she braced herself on the palms of her hands and kicked up, connecting with his hip. He stumbled and grunted, the only indication she hurt him.

"Too much Redanta isn't good for you. I'll have my maidservant water yours down." Joi wagged a finger.

Sohar dropped his blade, grabbed her hands, then yanked her off the ground, pinning her against his chest. He spun her at the last moment so the length of her back rested along the front of him. His arms were tight, holding her in place no matter how hard she struggled. The brush of his lips across her cheek and the heat spreading from the gentle touch made her stiffen.

"You lose, Princess." His breath feathered across her ear, spiraling shivers down her body. An unknown reaction on her part, and since she didn't understand it, she ignored it.

"Using your greater strength against me is cheating, Mighty Sohar." She flipped her head to meet his crystal-blue gaze, her lips almost meeting his in the process. Joi chose to ignore that too, despite his touch lingering.

"Your taunts are not?" He didn't pull away from her, and as usual, no expression crossed his face. Sohar's focus shifted, trailing over her temple before lowering to linger on her parted lips.

"If you cannot handle distraction, then you have no place in battle," she said.

His eyes widened, and she could've sworn she saw amusement in their depths. Joi discarded that thought as soon as it formed. He was a stoic man. Even when drunk, he showed no warmth.

"You need to escape my 'greater strength' if surviving a battle is your intention." He lowered his arms, thrusting her away from him as he bent to collect his sword. "Women have no place in battle."

"Truly? No camp concubine to ease your...stiff muscles?" Embarrassment scorched her face further as the words tumbled from her mouth. She knew full well how her fellow trainees received attention from the ladies at court. Perhaps jealousy had torn those words from her? Not that she could recall Sohar's interest straying to carnal delights.

He said nothing for a long time as he seemingly appraised her face and quivering body in the white trainee's pants and tunic.

"Joi-Joi, come say that to me when you have eased a man's stiff muscles and without a blush, Princess." He cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb over the tiny scratch he had inflicted. She didn't feel the sting, just the hot texture of his skin. "My apologies. I won't hurt you again."

He abandoned her in the training circle, sauntering off with an arrogance that infuriated her. The urge to stamp her foot gripped her, but she was always under observation. The life of a princess.

Instead, she glared at his retreating back, his long legs striding away from her. Despite the scowl furrowing her brow, she lingered on his broad shoulders. Curse it, she didn't learn. How many times had she lost to him? Now she had to serve him every night with noodles from Pan's outside the palace gates. Da would keep her allowance if he discovered she had ventured there, never mind for seven consecutive days.

"Why do you taunt him so?" Her oldest brother, Kylen, paused beside her, pressing a white cloth to her cheek. As she had stated, someone was watching.

"I suspect it's his silence that irritates me."

"Need an escort?" Ky asked, and she threw her arms around him, squeezing him tight. He grumbled about it despite hugging her back. "Da would punish us both if he found out I let you go without additional protection."

"I don't see why—Nateo is more than capable."

"True, but I will escort you regardless. Pan's noodles are the best." Ky pulled away to rub his belly, wrinkling his white tunic.

"Ah, so your ulterior motive is your stomach? Why don't I bring you a bowl, as well?" She scooped up her blade and slid it into its scabbard at her hip. "I'll do that anyway. My maidservant will bring it to your chambers."

"I should escort you." Ky raised his chin, a clear indication he was intending to be stubborn about this.

"No, Nateo will, and if you say one more word, I'll sneak out...alone." Joi patted his shoulder and strolled away, each step full of dread, expecting Ky's voice to halt her. As the crown prince, should he command her, she would have to obey. When she reached the training arena's gate unhindered, she released the breath she held.

"Lost again, Princess?" Nateo fell into step beside her.

She grunted in response, unhappy that everyone knew her business.

"As usual." She slanted a glance at her omnipresent companion. "I don't understand why I cannot best him. I mean, you've trained me, showed me your finest techniques. I've learned the same lessons as he did, endured the same trials of combat. I'm baffled."

"Your passion is your downfall." He chuckled. "I wouldn't change that for all the jade in Meideon."

"Curse it, Nateo. How can someone be so unfeeling?"

Nateo answered with a shrug, and Joi huffed.

"Greyadians endure much, having to battle Orthians daily. I suspect a tight control over their emotions ensures decisions aren't made that would jeopardize their soldiers or their realm."

She grunted. Covering Greyadian culture in her studies was simpler than dealing with it. No matter how she taunted Sohar, he remained aloof. Perhaps an event had occurred in his past to harden him more than he needed to be? In the years she had known him, she could count on one hand the number of times he had smiled and not just a token smile, which was a brief lip curl.

Nateo gestured to the south. "Pan will deliver a few bowls to the palace gates, so we need not venture out."

"You expected me to lose?" Joi gasped, more hurt than she cared to admit. She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood, the metallic liquid drenching the tip of her tongue. Curse these feminine emotions which had fluctuated violently in the last few weeks. She would summon the royal physician, but then she had be a topic for discussion within the hour. They would have her dying of some sort of malady, ancient and unknown, which would then prompt a visit from Da. To say she had endured such an occurrence before would be an understatement.

Her seventeenth birthday drew near. Few knew her true age or her Letouran identity. According to the annals and scholars, her arrival as the king's long-lost niece was two years after the slaughter of the Letouran royal family. During the years between her escape and her official arrival, Nateo and Ky were her only companions. It was Ky who held her when she awoke screaming, and when sobs racked her little body. She had at least three more years in the world's eyes before she reached "eighteen" and was old enough for marriage. When in truth, she would be twenty. A small lie but worth it, or so Da said.

Did that make her older than Sohar? He had trained first under Greyad's generals before venturing to Meideon to learn from the Xiaxan mentors. She hoped he answered her next time she asked him his age.

"I hoped you would win this time, Princess. You're holding back, scared to harm him. He has no such fear." Nateo brushed his forefinger over her cut. It stung at his touch, but the pain was minimal compared to the trials by combat. "Besides, if you'd won, Pan's noodles would be a celebratory meal."

"True—any excuse for a bowl of his noodles." She looped an arm around Nateo's waist. The fact she could show her affection was a hard-fought battle. In the beginning, embracing Ky or Nateo had been as unpleasant as hugging a dead tree. "I'll run to the gates to collect them, and yes, I promise not to leave the palace."

She darted forward before Nateo could stop her. She was smaller than her brothers, but she made up for it with speed. Laughing as she closed the distance on untiring legs, she drew to a halt with sufficient force to raise a cloud of dust.

"Princess," two guards chimed as they knelt.

She waved dust from her face. "You may rise. Has Pan delivered the noodles?"

"He crosses the bridge now, Princess," one guard said, resuming his position alongside the iron gates.

"Do you require assistance?" the other one asked.

"Go meet Pan and assist him," she commanded, clasping her hands behind her back as she waited.

The guard hurried away from her vantage point, and she watched the argument play out. Pan was adamant he didn't need assistance, and the guard seemed determined to obey Joi. He jumped into the air, a few feet off the ground with a loud squeal. Old man Pan had hit him with a red bolt of energy. She smothered a chuckle, amused yet intrigued. Red energy? She had never seen the like, but she wasn't well-traveled. She would ask Nateo later.

"Evening, my princess." Humor danced in Pan's dark eyes. "I brought extra bowls."

"Were the gold coins sufficient to cover it?" She dipped into her secret pocket, but the man's gnarled fingers gripped her wrist to stop her until the guards yelled at him to remove his hand. With a chuckle, he did so.

"I meant no disrespect, Princess. Lord Nateo was most generous."

"Touching royalty is punishable with the loss of a hand. Doing so will affect your ability to make delicious food. Therefore, I decree there was no offense committed." She flashed a look at the guards, who assumed their positions with stiff vigilant postures.

She bent to scoop up the basket, grunting under the weight of it. Yet the aroma rising to greet her made her draw in a deep inhalation of appreciation. Mm, her mouth watered, and she drooped her shoulders on a sigh. "Thank you, Pan. I'll see you tomorrow."

When he didn't respond, she found him staring at her chest with shock hardening his weathered features. Joi glanced down, releasing a sigh at finding her tunic wasn't gaping. Her medallion had slipped out with the ruby catching the last rays of the setting sun.

"The Medallion of the Scarlet Mirrors." He raised a trembling hand as if to touch her. The guards squeezed between them to prevent a second offense. She lowered the basket to the paved road and passed around them.

"You know my medallion?" She tamped down the excitement skittering along her senses. The ruby pulsed warmth through her chest. It went fiery hot if she was in danger, but she didn't sense evil from the old man.

"Yours?" His bushy eyebrows arched up, crinkling his wrinkled forehead.

Faded memories flashed of her father's beloved face as he passed the medallion onto her. She had often tried to capture that moment when his eyes had softened, portraying his love for Joi. "Yes, my father gave it to me." She cleared her throat, holding back the burn of pointless tears.

"Your father?" He glanced around, his gaze settling on the observant guards before shaking his head. "I've heard tales of this medallion but never seen it."

"Oh? I'm interested in hearing these tales, Pan."

"May I, Princess?" He gestured to the medallion, his fingers twitching with eagerness.

She lifted it off her chest, making it easier for him to hold.

He gripped it between his gnarled hands, yanking her closer to him. Throwing out a hand to warn the guards to stand back, she let the old man run a trembling fingertip over the wording circling the ruby. "A mirror of souls, a seal of minds."

"Is that what it says?" She took it back from him to trace the lettering carved into the gold, trying to read the letters she had given up on years ago. The ruby glowed its welcome, pulsing as it flooded her hands with warmth. In Pan's clutches, it remained cold and lifeless.

"It's meant to react to your blood, Princess." His face altered into one of awe, not that she understood why. "An honor to meet you, Princess Joi." He bowed with his right palm over his heart.

"Wait, Pan, I'd love to hear of these tales. Tomorrow night?" She could command him to tell her, but kindness cost her nothing. She found kindness and respect brought loyalty. Someone in her situation needed loyalty more than subservience.

"It is a pleasure to serve." He flashed a toothy smile, cracking his wizened cheeks in the process.

"I will have a few bottles of Redanta waiting," she said, and the light in his eyes told her she had offered wisely.

Pan left her with an energetic bounce to his step.

Shaking her head, she faced the guards. "Thank you for protecting me. Your presence has brought peace to my heart." She collected the basket, ignoring their surprise, then straightened her shoulders. Open praise also garnered support.

One guard hesitated, lifting his gaze from the ground to her face. "Please excuse my presumption, Princess, but it is not safe to come to the gates yourself."

"Your presumption is forgiven." Joi blessed him with a small smile. "I have lost again to Prince Sohar, and this is my burden to bear."

"Prince Sohar is most impressive," the other guard chimed in.

She walked away, not needing to hear from the palace guards what a disappointment she was. She headed to Sohar's chambers, wanting to be done with this debt. Along the way, she replayed the incident with Pan and her medallion. The annals were void of information, so the scholars labeled the medallion's engravings a mystery. Yet a wizened man called it by its name. He could be fabricating it, but something within her knew he spoke the truth.

Medallion of Scarlet Mirrors. A strange name, to be sure—and the writing made no sense either. A mirror of souls, a seal of minds.

Shrugging her interest away, leaving it for tomorrow, she knocked on Sohar's door and entered only when he granted her access. Joi wasn't surprised to see he had a visitor, her brother Kylen, nor to feel Nateo's presence at her back. He had been with her the entire time, hidden, as was his custom. Having made a vow to Da to keep her safe, he did so with breathtaking diligence.

"Good timing, Joi-Joi." Sohar gestured for her to place the basket alongside the table. He had bathed since their sparring. His unbound white hair cascaded around his angular face like silver rays of pale moonlight. Ky had bathed as well, and she grimaced, realizing she hadn't. Now conscious she might not smell as fresh after a day of training, she smothered an outward cringe.

Thank the Divine, Pan's noodles overwhelmed any odors with its mouth-watering goodness. Yet when she served a portion of it to Sohar, her stomach roiled. The thought of food made her gag. Meeting Pan was fortuitous after deciding a long time ago to cease the search for the medallion's origins. Her mind was in turmoil, and a heavy feeling pressed on her soul, as if she plummeted into darkness. The idea of sitting there and pretending a cheerfulness nauseated her. Hiding her reaction, she dipped her chin to rest on her chest. Without looking at them, she served Ky, breathing through her mouth.

She rose to her feet, the last bowl in hand, then handed it to Nateo. "Rest well, and there's no need to follow me, Nateo. I'm returning to my chambers for the evening."

"No Redanta?" Sohar asked with widened eyes. Her departure no doubt surprised him.

She shook her head and left his chambers. It was too late to order a bath. Besides, she preferred a swim in her fountain. Deeper than a tub, its cool waters would wash away the stress of the day, and perhaps bring clarity to her chaotic thoughts.

Author's Note: Xiaxan Fox is available at most ebook retailers.

https://books2read.com/u/3LY6X7