The princess sat stiff and straight at the pale grey table. The inlaid vinery coiling up the legs and across the dining surface was carved from the finest hellac wood, which was prized for its silver coloring. She picked at her food with a delicate lack of enthusiasm that was not mirrored by the people around her.
Servants rushed in and out of the large dining hall, continually bringing in heaping platters of food that smelled of roasted meats and baluster jugs overflowing with spiced apple wine. Her father sat at the head of the table, his jovial laugh bouncing his white-blonde hair and echoing in the narrow hall.
“I know I have already said it, but I am gladdened to have my daughter back!” He took an overly long swig from his bejeweled goblet of wine, and then wiped his lips dry with the back of his hand. Her mother sat to her father’s left, and her lips puckering into a sour frown was the only sign she gave of her disapproval. “The instructors at the war academy tell me you were an exceptional student, Auralessa.”
“I learned much, Father. I also have more respect for our knights.” She took a far daintier sip of wine compared to the king, before continuing in a humble voice. “I had never imagined their armor to be so heavy.”
“Vangelis has been practicing daily with the knights.” Her mother’s face lit with pride as she looked at Auralessa’s twin brother, but her voice turned scornful when her gaze slid over her in turn. “His skills with the sword have doubled in your daughter’s absence.”
“Is that so? Well! Perhaps we should see how much both of our children have improved by having a friendly match between them down in the training yard!”
Auralessa’s brother shifted uncomfortably beside her, his face paler than normal. She bowed her head, and kept her blue gaze pinned on her lap where she had folded her fidgeting hands. Her mother spluttered, but seemed unable to form a coherent retort.
“Then it’s settled!” A cheery smile spread on the king’s rosy-cheeked face.
* ~ *~ *
Auralessa stood across from Vangelis, her body turned at a slight angle with her right foot leading. They both bore wooden practice swords, and Auralessa could already feel sweat beading on the back of her neck. The sweltering heat of the midsummer day did not mix well with the leather armor padding they both wore.
“Begin!”
The king’s voice came from the balcony that overlooked the dirt training yard, and it acted like a battle trumpet. Auralessa launched into an aggressive onslaught against her brother. She swung the wooden sword at his left side, and the dull clack of wood meeting wood resounded through the yard as Vangelis met her attack. He threw her sword back and heaved upward, but before the tip could clip her chin she parried it aside and countered with a thrust to his gut.
Vangelis knocked her blow low and to the right, and followed through with a spinning attack that brought his sword down toward her right shoulder. Auralessa dodged the blow with ease, and then brought her sword up in time for it to clash against Vangelis’ as he swung again.
The two’s swords remained locked together as both strained against the other in a test of greater strength and endurance. Vangelis’ sword ground a fraction lower as she pressed in harder, and with that added bit of leverage she surged forward and drove his sword out to the side. In the same motion Auralessa stepped in and bashed the pommel of her sword against his face. He let out a cry and stumbled back, blood flowing from his broken nose.
Auralessa paused, taking in her brother’s sweat-drenched face and the heavy droop to his shoulders. Her gaze strayed up toward the balcony, where both the queen and the king watched. They looked on expectantly, a frown on their father’s face and a scowl on their mother’s.
She clenched her jaw and turned her attention back to Vangelis, who still held his broken nose. He had the posture of a man that had already accepted defeat. She stalked toward him with resolute steps. She knew what had to be done now.
Vangelis almost noticed her too late, and only barely managed to duck below her swing that could have removed his head had it been a steel sword. He stumbled to her left side, and she pressed in tight, managing to whack him hard on the arm with the flat side of the sword. He yelped, but something also sparked to life in his eyes. Auralessa suppressed a smile.
He stabbed at her gut, and she jumped back to narrowly avoid the attack. Auralessa soon found herself on the defense. When Vangelis left himself open for attack she ignored it, and when he made a particularly good jab at her she forced herself to dodge or block just a little too slowly.
Vangelis grew fierce in his attack, his teeth gritted together in a disturbing grimace. Auralessa became heartened at the spirit he was finally showing for the fight, and when he slashed down toward her right shoulder, she made a feeble attempt to dodge but took the brunt of the blow. She was now legally dead as per the rules of their match.
She saw her mother start to proudly clap when a puff of dust erupted at her feet. Vangelis’ sword lay on the ground before her. She looked questioningly at her brother. His tanned face was contorted with rage, and it was then that she realized he had grown brutal in his attack because he had known she was letting him win. He spat on the ground and then spun on his heel, stalking out of the training yard.
“You dishonor your brother, Auralessa.”
Auralessa glanced up to her father on the balcony, and rubbed at the shoulder that was now sore from being whacked by the heavy wooden sword.
“Father?”
There was a sad smile on the king’s face.
“You should stay true to yourself. Vangelis will never become a man worthy of the throne if you are always catering to him.”
“Husband, surely you are mistaken. Vangelis has proven himself to be a worthy swordsman!”
“You see what you wish because you are a fool.” The words were delivered cold and flat, and even after the king turned and left, they seemed to swell, filling the silence with their venom.
Her mother peered over the balcony at her, her hands gripping the bannister tight enough that even from below Auralessa could see that her knuckles had turned white. Her lips twitched into a sneer, and then the queen too turned and left, leaving Auralessa alone.
!
In light of the spirit of pumping out a 50,000 word novel in just thirty days for NaNoWriMo, the temptation to pad the writing with a bit of “flowery description” might become too strong of a temptation to resist. Resistance is not futile (in this case), and so we must not go gently into that good night.
