Loving the Forbidden Prince

AYLETH

She didn't sleep well, so when the servant came for her, insisting that Falek was outside demanding that she train, at first she just ignored them. But then she remembered Falek's strange announcement the night before, and his mysterious promise to explain this morning. She threw the covers back and rushed into her fighting leathers and hooded cloak, barely stopping to eat the toast and bacon he'd had brought for her.

When she opened the door to her chambers, he was stationed outside and gave her a lopsided smile. "Are you ready, Princess?"

"What are we doing?"

"We're going to train. I told you that."

"I… but…"

But he just turned on his heel and clipped his way down the corridor, forcing Ayleth to nearly trot to keep up with him.

She was still confused fifteen minutes later when they made it to the soldier's training arena, which was completely empty since the men were all either on guard shift, or eating breakfast.

Falek bid her to hang her cloak on the hooks next to the door and run the outer edge of the circle.

Ayleth stared at him. Surely, surely this hadn't been about actually training? But she'd learned by now: When Falek said they were training, she only gained added pain and frustration by questioning, or delaying any order.

So, with a frustrated sigh, she turned and began the run around the arena.

"Four time, please," he called through the chill air. It echoed around the domed roof above them.

"Yes, sir," she ground out.

Their agreement was that whenever Ayleth trained, she was not a Princess, she was a warrior. And Warriors referred to their Captains as Sir.

Ten minutes later, only slightly puffed, Ayleth returned to stand in front of him. He nodded his approval. "All that climbing of castle walls and stable lofts has kept you fit," he said.

"How did you know about the loft?" she blurted before clapping a hand over her mouth.

Falek's eyes darkened. But before he could say anything, the door into the arena creaked and Ayleth's mouth fell open.

Etan was walking in, in black fighting leathers and a heavy, dark-green cloak, Borsche right behind him.

Etan had been speaking to his man, his head twisted around to look over his shoulder. But when he sensed movement ahead he turned and his mouth dropped open too. He froze on the spot and Borsche almost ran into his back.

"You're late!" Falek snapped. "Eight circuits of the arena and twenty pushups on your knuckles, then join us."

Etan turned to Borsche who muttered something, then Etan swung his cloak off his shoulders, handed it to Borsche and started to run.

And Ayleth thanked the Lord for her Captain because Etan running was a beautiful sight.

"You may wish to close your mouth, Ayleth. There are often flies in the barracks," Falek said quietly, grinning.

Ayleth snapped her mouth closed so hard her teeth clinked and looked at Falek, but he wasn't angry, so she let her eyes slide back to watch Etan's back as he jogged past them.

He hadn't met her eyes yet.

"Falek… please…" she murmured under her breath.

"What is it?"

"Are you… what are you doing?"

Falek waited until she looked at him again. He wasn't smiling anymore. "I promised you solitude," he said. "Safe solitude." Then he glanced at Borsche, who didn't smile, but tipped his head in acknowledgement. "You will train together every morning. If others choose not to join us, well… that is their problem," he said with a small smile. And when Ayleth gave him a look, his smile broadened. "You're welcome," he said quietly.

*****

ETAN

Falek was just as merciless as Borsche, working both on their fitness and balance before he ventured into the fighting at all.

Watching Ayleth grasp one foot behind her and extend forward with the other arm—in much better balance than he himself—sent his heart into his throat. If they hadn't had an audience he would have gathered her into his arms and kissed her silly.

The glare Falek shot him and the hurried way he moved them on to a different stretch indicated the man hadn't missed the admiration in his gaze.

Assuming that he would be fighting Borsche as usual, Etan was taken off guard when Falek told them both to stand to the middle of the circle for sparring.

Ayleth immediately trotted to her line and waited. Etan moving much more slowly. When he took his position across from her their eyes locked, and he wondered if his were as filled with yearning as hers.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning, Etan," she said, and beamed.

"Focus!" Falek barked, standing at the side of the arena with his massive arms folded. "Now, bow."

Ayleth began the bow, but Etan turned to face the man, hands loose at his sides. "I cannot fight her."

"Her specifically, or women in general?" Falek asked.

"Both—but I would not fight any woman."

"Then that is exactly who your enemy will send," Falek said at the same moment Borsche called, "A female assassin will kill you as soon as look at you."

Etan grimaced. "Well, if I was fighting for my life, of course, but…"

"Never let it get that far," Falek said in a tone that invited no argument. "By the time you realize you're fighting for your life you have likely lost your opportunity to fell her."

"Very well. Then, I cannot fight Ayleth. I cannot risk hurting her." He glanced at her, expecting her gaze to warm. But instead, she put her fists to her hips and tipped her head.

"Are you afraid you'll lose again, Etan?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

Falek's expression didn't change, but Etan caught the humor in his eyes.

"It would be an honor, Princess," he said, his voice very deep. "What I wish to avoid is injuring you."

"Do you get injured in training?" she asked sweetly.

"Often," he said.

"Then perhaps what you actually fear is being injured yourself?"

Borsche snorted. He'd moved to the same side of the ring as Falek and was standing just a few feet away from the soldier.

Etan turned a look on him to find both men standing in exactly the same pose—arms folded, grinning and eyes expectant on him.

"Very well, I can see that I am outnumbered," he said through his teeth. Ayleth ruined her cool by clapping her hands and resettling herself on the line, but Etan just gave Borsche a grim look. He would not hurt her. He would not strike her. But he would damn well make sure she didn't strike him, either. "Let's get started."

Then he smiled.

Ayleth's grin faded.