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Description
The next morning found them both on the practice yard.  Neither mentioned the previous late night conversation.  They danced in silence.  All the song came from their blades, perfectly matched.  This was truly a dance, meant to keep them fit, strong, and supple.  They did not fight for victory, but moved through steps that had been taught to them as children with wooden blades.  Their blades were now sharpened steel, but the steps did not change.  Nor did the energy they used while dancing.  When they were finished they saluted each other.  Keilai returned to their rooms to bathe and dress.  Jalmin waited for Master Noring.
When Keilai returned to the yard, Prince Lorden was waiting for her.  It was much too early for her to deal with him today, but she suppressed a sigh as she went to meet him.
He was dressed in similar clothing to what he wore yesterday.  Those same dark shades that accented his coloring but made him look too old.  Keilai was draped in greens and blues today, more calming than the fire that lighted her yesterday.  She hoped the colors would have a soothing effect on him.
“Morning Prince.”  She could not bring herself to call this morning “good.”  She bowed to him.
“Princess.”  He bowed to her, only what was required and no more.  Keilai waited for him to speak.  He wanted something; she could see it in his shifting stance.
But she would have to wait.  He turned to watch the match.  Jalmin was on the attack.  Keilai turned her eyes to the figures as well and tried not to think of the one standing next to her.  She forgot he was there as she silently scrutinized the fighting figures.  Jalmin lost his sword again.  Master Noring’s sword was pointed to his throat.  He surrendered.
“Are you enjoying your stay here?”
The question caught her off guard, and she responded carefully.
“I am comfortable, if that is what you mean.”
“No, I meant, the business you must see to.  Are you enjoying it?”
She tried to catch his eyes, but he was looking away from her.  “It is coming along well, but no one would enjoy the business I must see to.”
“Yes, I imagine trying to find a potential marriage partner would be rather boring.  The dancing, parties, fine meals.  Such tedious work.”
He was guessing, she knew, but how much to tell him?  He had come close to the truth—or part of it.  Tell him just enough to keep his interest, she decided.
“I worry over any decision that is to affect the rest of my life in such a big way.  This land is so foreign, I find it hard to read people.”  Like you, she added silently.
The pair continued to fight in the ring.  The prince and princess ignored them.  He was watching her now.  She would give nothing away she did not mean to.
“I can imagine that it must be…difficult for you.  After all, no reputable man would want a girl who wields weapons and speaks her mind.”
That irritating presumptuous smile was back on his lips.  Keilai wanted to reach out and smack it off his face.  He had no idea what a fool he was making of himself.
“You have no idea,” she said sweetly, and smiled just as sweet.
Though he tried, he was unable to get another word out of her beyond, “Good day.”
He returned the next day, and the next.  It was soon that they met there every morning while Jalmin slowly improved.  He tried to get her to tell him more, but she refused.  Some days she was too tired even to speak to him, afraid that she would let slip something she ought not to.  His attitude changed from day to day, ranging from the arrogant ass that was his true self to an almost sweet, romantic boy who wished nothing more than to make her happy for the rest of her days.  She would reward him on the days he respected her and do her best to ignore him on those days he did not.
This game went on for a moon’s cycle while she met with the king and a few of his select advisors and helped them prepare.  She settled into the routines of early morning practices and late night parties with the nobles.  Her spare time was spent contemplating her princely problem, but she could think of any way to get him to change and see sense.  Ronal was worried, though he never pressed her.
“He cheated.”
Jalmin had managed to finally beat Master Noring, who was currently lying in the sand, sword point resting at his throat.
“You would do good to either apologize or leave my presence, Prince.”  Keilai spat out the last word.  Her friend’s success had been soured by his arrival, and already the day was too long.
“Apologize?  I think not.  I apologize to no one.”
His attitude had returned permanently to what she mentally referred to as the spoiled brat.  No matter what she said she could not break him of it.  She was tired of dealing with him.  Soon she would have to act, or they would have no more time.  King Ronal informed her that there would be another month before he made his intentions plain to his son.  Keilai understood.  That did not mean she liked it.  She cursed her father for sending her here.
“Apologize,” she repeated.  She added menace to the words and let the prince see her anger for the first time.
“I will not apologize for a lowly guard who can barely swing a sword properly.”
The prince was as blind as she feared.  Her frustration got the better of her.  She was already worried for the king and kingdom she had come to like over the last five weeks.  Ronal’s progress was slow, and she was unable to stifle the urgency that chased her everywhere.  She feared for her declining father at home, and her brother’s pregnant wife, a childhood friend of hers that Manlain had married a few days before she left.
She slapped Prince Lorden soundly across the face.  The crack of her hand against his cheek made Jalmin and the fighting master stop their discussion and look to see what had happened.  She did not notice them or the passing servants who stopped their work.
“You will apologize to my brother now, or will go to your father and tell him of the insult you do to me and my people.  He will not look kindly on you after all the help I have given him.  I suggest you think this through carefully, prince.”
He gaped at her.  Slowly his hand went to his cheek, quickly reddening.  He glared at her.  She matched him look for look.  He towered above her, being head and shoulders taller, but she firmly stood her ground and would not back down.  Her deep brown eyes bore into his light blue ones as the seconds passed.
He lowered his eyes and mumbled out an apology.  Keilai had no trouble hearing him, but he needed to be punished for the insult to her brother and her people.
“Say it so we can hear you.”
“I apologize to you and your man.  Let my words be stricken from your memories.”
“Thank you.”  Her words held no warmth.  She turned on her heel and stalked to her rooms, not wanting to meet anyone in this mood.

Description
The next morning found them both on the practice yard.  Neither mentioned the previous late night conversation.  They danced in silence.  All the song came from their blades, perfectly matched.  This was truly a dance, meant to keep them fit, strong, and supple.  They did not fight for victory, but moved through steps that had been taught to them as children with wooden blades.  Their blades were now sharpened steel, but the steps did not change.  Nor did the energy they used while dancing.  When they were finished they saluted each other.  Keilai returned to their rooms to bathe and dress.  Jalmin waited for Master Noring.
When Keilai returned to the yard, Prince Lorden was waiting for her.  It was much too early for her to deal with him today, but she suppressed a sigh as she went to meet him.
He was dressed in similar clothing to what he wore yesterday.  Those same dark shades that accented his coloring but made him look too old.  Keilai was draped in greens and blues today, more calming than the fire that lighted her yesterday.  She hoped the colors would have a soothing effect on him.
“Morning Prince.”  She could not bring herself to call this morning “good.”  She bowed to him.
“Princess.”  He bowed to her, only what was required and no more.  Keilai waited for him to speak.  He wanted something; she could see it in his shifting stance.
But she would have to wait.  He turned to watch the match.  Jalmin was on the attack.  Keilai turned her eyes to the figures as well and tried not to think of the one standing next to her.  She forgot he was there as she silently scrutinized the fighting figures.  Jalmin lost his sword again.  Master Noring’s sword was pointed to his throat.  He surrendered.
“Are you enjoying your stay here?”
The question caught her off guard, and she responded carefully.
“I am comfortable, if that is what you mean.”
“No, I meant, the business you must see to.  Are you enjoying it?”
She tried to catch his eyes, but he was looking away from her.  “It is coming along well, but no one would enjoy the business I must see to.”
“Yes, I imagine trying to find a potential marriage partner would be rather boring.  The dancing, parties, fine meals.  Such tedious work.”
He was guessing, she knew, but how much to tell him?  He had come close to the truth—or part of it.  Tell him just enough to keep his interest, she decided.
“I worry over any decision that is to affect the rest of my life in such a big way.  This land is so foreign, I find it hard to read people.”  Like you, she added silently.
The pair continued to fight in the ring.  The prince and princess ignored them.  He was watching her now.  She would give nothing away she did not mean to.
“I can imagine that it must be…difficult for you.  After all, no reputable man would want a girl who wields weapons and speaks her mind.”
That irritating presumptuous smile was back on his lips.  Keilai wanted to reach out and smack it off his face.  He had no idea what a fool he was making of himself.
“You have no idea,” she said sweetly, and smiled just as sweet.
Though he tried, he was unable to get another word out of her beyond, “Good day.”
He returned the next day, and the next.  It was soon that they met there every morning while Jalmin slowly improved.  He tried to get her to tell him more, but she refused.  Some days she was too tired even to speak to him, afraid that she would let slip something she ought not to.  His attitude changed from day to day, ranging from the arrogant ass that was his true self to an almost sweet, romantic boy who wished nothing more than to make her happy for the rest of her days.  She would reward him on the days he respected her and do her best to ignore him on those days he did not.
This game went on for a moon’s cycle while she met with the king and a few of his select advisors and helped them prepare.  She settled into the routines of early morning practices and late night parties with the nobles.  Her spare time was spent contemplating her princely problem, but she could think of any way to get him to change and see sense.  Ronal was worried, though he never pressed her.
“He cheated.”
Jalmin had managed to finally beat Master Noring, who was currently lying in the sand, sword point resting at his throat.
“You would do good to either apologize or leave my presence, Prince.”  Keilai spat out the last word.  Her friend’s success had been soured by his arrival, and already the day was too long.
“Apologize?  I think not.  I apologize to no one.”
His attitude had returned permanently to what she mentally referred to as the spoiled brat.  No matter what she said she could not break him of it.  She was tired of dealing with him.  Soon she would have to act, or they would have no more time.  King Ronal informed her that there would be another month before he made his intentions plain to his son.  Keilai understood.  That did not mean she liked it.  She cursed her father for sending her here.
“Apologize,” she repeated.  She added menace to the words and let the prince see her anger for the first time.
“I will not apologize for a lowly guard who can barely swing a sword properly.”
The prince was as blind as she feared.  Her frustration got the better of her.  She was already worried for the king and kingdom she had come to like over the last five weeks.  Ronal’s progress was slow, and she was unable to stifle the urgency that chased her everywhere.  She feared for her declining father at home, and her brother’s pregnant wife, a childhood friend of hers that Manlain had married a few days before she left.
She slapped Prince Lorden soundly across the face.  The crack of her hand against his cheek made Jalmin and the fighting master stop their discussion and look to see what had happened.  She did not notice them or the passing servants who stopped their work.
“You will apologize to my brother now, or will go to your father and tell him of the insult you do to me and my people.  He will not look kindly on you after all the help I have given him.  I suggest you think this through carefully, prince.”
He gaped at her.  Slowly his hand went to his cheek, quickly reddening.  He glared at her.  She matched him look for look.  He towered above her, being head and shoulders taller, but she firmly stood her ground and would not back down.  Her deep brown eyes bore into his light blue ones as the seconds passed.
He lowered his eyes and mumbled out an apology.  Keilai had no trouble hearing him, but he needed to be punished for the insult to her brother and her people.
“Say it so we can hear you.”
“I apologize to you and your man.  Let my words be stricken from your memories.”
“Thank you.”  Her words held no warmth.  She turned on her heel and stalked to her rooms, not wanting to meet anyone in this mood.