THE UNION BATTLE was held in the Glory Ballroom, which Davina explained to Em was the smallest of the three ballrooms. It was still impressively big, with a square wooden floor in the center and purple carpet along the sides. Members of the guard were already lined up along the walls, and spectators stood in front of them. The only chairs were the large ones at the front of the room that were obviously for the royal family. The kitchen staff was outside, ready to bring in food and drink after the battle.
Em had changed into black pants and a formfitting black shirt for the occasion. They were her own clothes, and she stretched her arms out with a relieved sigh, the soft fabric moving with her.
Swords hung off the hips of every member of the guard. There were fifty guards in the room, easily. Even if she surprised one and took his sword, she’d probably kill one or two—at most—before they cut her down. She swallowed and tried not to think about it.
She found Aren in the crowd. He seemed calm, his expression neutral as a guard said something to him.
His brown eyes were bright, though, alive in a way Em hadn’t seen since . . . ever, actually. A Ruined was fueled by the energy around him or her, and in Aren’s case, the energy of every human in the castle. After a few weeks he’d probably be able to crush the bones of ten men before his energy was drained. That was the hope, anyway.
Various maps hung on the walls. She stood on her toes to peer at the one closest to her. It was dated around the same time as the war between Lera and Olso two generations ago. All four countries were on this map—Lera to the east, Vallos just below it, and Olso to the west of Lera. To the south of Olso was her home, Ruina.
It seemed unlikely they’d just write Olivia on a map to advertise her location, but she squinted at it anyway, just to be sure. She moved to the next one.
“Mary!” The queen stood in the doorway of the ballroom, an annoyed expression on her face. “Please come out here. You’ll make an entrance with Cas.”
Em walked to the door, brushing past the queen to find Cas leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He still looked as though someone was poking him with hot knives, but now he’d grown bored of it. Painful boredom. That was the prince.
“If you don’t know where to put her, don’t just dump her anywhere,” the queen chastised Davina, who was wringing her hands at Fabiana’s side. “Bring her to me, if you must.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The queen disappeared into the ballroom, the maids scurrying after her. Em watched the doors swing closed, silence descending onto the hallway.
“We’ll go in when my father arrives.” Cas leaned away from the wall and glanced both ways, like he hoped that moment was now.
She nodded, rubbing her thumb across her necklace. He watched her, his eyes flicking from her face to her hand.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
She quickly dropped the necklace, sliding her hands into her pockets instead. “No.”
“This doesn’t really mean anything. It’s just tradition.”
“If it didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t do it.” She met his gaze. “Have you always used dull blades?”
“Of course.”
“Why? Are you afraid the bride or groom will win, and one of your own will die?”
“I think we’re more concerned that they’d lose, and we’d have to find a replacement.”
His mouth twitched, and she almost laughed. “Me bleeding out on the floor would put a damper on the wedding tomorrow,” she said.
Amusement crossed his features, and he hesitated for a beat too long. Perhaps he was reconsidering the use of dull blades. “Yes, it would.”
“Mary!”
Em’s heart jumped at the sound of the king’s booming voice. He strode down the hallway, his lips pulled into an almost comically wide grin. His smile was too big, like it was trying to conquer the rest of his features.
King Salomir and Cas were about the same height, but the king was larger and broader, with a neat dark beard. Some would find him handsome. Em did not.
“Are you ready for the battle?” he asked.
“Looking forward to it.”
He laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. She considered breaking a few of his fingers.
He dropped the hand and headed for the ballroom, beckoning for them to follow him. He threw open the door in a dramatic fashion, sweeping his arms out like his admirers were free to adore him now. “Welcome to the Union Battle!” he yelled.
Cheers erupted from the crowd. Em trailed behind Cas and his father as they crossed the room. The king gestured for her to stop in the middle of the floor. He and Cas continued to the front of the room, standing with the queen and Jovita.
The king waited for the cheers to die down before he spoke again. “Today we celebrate the union of my son, Prince Casimir, and Princess Mary of Vallos. If this is your first Union Battle, the rules are simple. Our future princess will pick someone to battle. They will use swords only. The first one to make three fatal strikes will be the winner. I will call out each strike as they are made.” He looked at Em. “Mary, you have your choice of any member of my or Cas’s guard as your opponent. Or”—his lips quivered with amusement—“you can pick any member of the royal family, with the exception of Cas. But be warned, those who pick a member of the royal family usually live to regret it. If you have any doubt about your skills, I don’t recommend it.”
That last statement was a challenge. Em knew it. Every person in the room knew it.
She surveyed the guard. She found the man with a red beard and freckles. He was a bit pale.
She turned back to the front. She could take the king up on his own challenge. Or the queen, who’d been trained as a warrior in Olso.
Or Jovita. Em knew less about her skills, though as a member of the Lera royal family she would have had intense training in every type of combat. She’d certainly made her doubts about Em’s skills clear.
Jovita raised both eyebrows as Em stared at her. The king laughed.
She glanced back down the line to see Cas subtly shaking his head at her.
The point is to prove your worth and skill in battle—
“Jovita,” she said quickly.
The king laughed again. “A bold choice. You’ll be nursing your bruises all night, I suspect.”
“Yes, she will,” Jovita said with a grin. She walked across the wood floor, stopping in front of Em. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll keep the bruises to the lower half of your body, so you’ll still look pretty for your wedding day.”
“Good luck trying.”
Jovita smirked as a man brought them dull swords. Em took hers, relieved to have a sword again, even if it wasn’t a real one.
“And I’d like to remind you that this is supposed to be entertaining, so please, make it a bit theatrical,” the king said as he sat down in his chair.
Em gripped the sword, getting a feel for the weapon. It was heavier than the one she’d had to leave with Damian, but not by much. Jovita took a few steps around in a circle, swinging the blade back and forth.
Em glanced at the three people sitting at the front of the room. The king sat back in his chair, a wide smile plastered across his face. The queen was vaguely interested, her hands folded in her lap.
Cas leaned forward, his eyes bright as he nodded at her. Was he giving her encouragement? She wished he’d stop.
“On the count of three,” the king said.
Em focused her attention on Jovita. If she didn’t win this battle, she was going to have to look at that cocky expression for the rest of her stay in Lera. She needed to win. She needed to see Jovita down on her knees, a sword pressed to her throat.
“Three . . . two . . . one.”
Em stepped to her left as Jovita approached. It was a slow, careful approach, like the kind Em often saw the most skilled hunters use. The new ones charged her; the veterans took their time.
They circled for only a moment before Em made the first strike. The room was quiet, the sound of metal meeting metal echoing through the room.
Someone cheered as they began, and others joined in. Jovita took two quick steps forward, and Em barely blocked the sword before it swiped across her neck. She jumped backward, ducking Jovita’s second attack and rolling across the floor to move to the other side of her. She darted forward, tapping the blade to the center of the girl’s back.
“One for Mary,” the king said, a hint of surprise in his tone. The crowd cheered.
One. The first one. Em bounced on the balls of her feet. She’d needed to be first.
Jovita’s amused expression had faded when she whirled around. She had clearly decided to take Em seriously, and a thrill of excitement ran down Em’s spine.
She blocked Jovita’s next attack, the crowd roaring as the women circled around, barely blocking each other’s blades. When Jovita faked right, Em fell for it, and the girl jabbed her sword into Em’s chest.
“One for Jovita.”
Em barely had time to take a breath before Jovita was coming for her again. The faces and noise around her started to fade away, her focus entirely on the girl in front of her. Her mother had made her practice different types of combat every day when she was younger, and she found fighting almost comforting.
You were born useless, but you don’t have to be helpless, her mother used to say.
Em saw an opening and poked her sword straight at Jovita’s stomach, narrowly missing getting a jab in the neck.
“Two for Mary,” the king said.
She took a step back, darting away from Jovita. She skirted around the edge of the floor until Jovita growled in frustration. Em darted back into the fight. Sometimes a moment to clear her head was helpful.
Jovita came at her so quickly she barely saw the movement. The blade was pointed straight at her forehead.
“Two for Jovita.”
So much for clearing her head.
She spun around, getting a better place on the floor so Jovita wouldn’t be able to back her into a corner. She was breathing a bit heavily now, but she was more relaxed than she’d been since her arrival yesterday. She’d have to find someone to spar with every day, or she might lose her mind in this castle.
Em blocked Jovita’s sword once, twice, three times. Em ducked and dodged, suddenly feeling better than when she’d begun to fight. She darted around the floor, a smile starting to appear on her face.
When she saw the opening, she used one quick well-placed kick to the legs to bring Jovita down to her knees. Em jumped in front of her, aiming her blade directly at Jovita’s neck. Cheers and applause erupted around the room.
“Mary wins,” the king yelled over the noise.
Em kept her sword at Jovita’s neck a beat longer than was necessary. She couldn’t kill her with this sword, but she pictured it for a moment.
Em swallowed, stepping back and lowering her sword. Jovita got to her feet, a hint of amusement on her face.
“I suppose it serves me right for underestimating you?”
Em laughed, pretending to be good-natured about it. She turned away from the girl.
“Yes, it does,” she muttered under her breath.