How to court a storm | 𝘈𝘯 𝘐𝘴𝘦𝘬𝘢𝘪 𝘕𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭

(41)

I stand in the private arena, the weight of my sword a familiar and comforting presence. The polished steel gleams under the soft glow of torches, and the anticipation of the upcoming duel lingers in the air as i twirl the sword in my hand pensively. But as I play with it as a means to keep my hands busy, there's no flicker of nervousness or doubt within me.

From what I understand, I don't necessarily need to win this duel. I could. But considering I don't need to go all out to get what I desire, I see no reason as to why I should. Proving my ability to be a knight is my only concern. Whilst I could let pride and arrogance be my friends, I don't have the desire to prove myself to anyone.

There's a certain arrogance that comes with the unwavering confidence I possess. It's not that I underestimate my opponent, but rather that I know myself, my strengths, and my abilities all too well. The title of knighthood is within my grasp, and no one will deny me this stepping stone to the goal I wish to reach.

It's a small step, but a crucial and necessary one.

Dahlia watches from the corner with an amused glint in her eyes. She knows me better than most, and she can see the disinterest in my manner to win but the absolute certainty that I'll succeed in getting ordained. It's a feeling she's seen in me as of late, what with all the time we spend around one another. She's expressed how it never fails to amuse her.

The butler with the enigmatic gaze stands beside her, his posture impeccable. He's been a silent presence throughout, his motives and loyalties hidden behind those eyes. Prince Alister's personal aid, huh?

But for now, my attention remains focused on the upcoming duel.

As I prepare to face Rylan, a knight renowned for his skill and honour, I can't help but notice his critical gaze fixed upon me. His eyes, the same eyes that questioned Dahlia earlier, are filled with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "Dare I say you don't look the least bit nervous?"

I humour him. "You would be correct."

He scowls at me, finding my answer to insult him for some reason. "Are you plain stupid or downright arrogant?" The sound of his sword drawing pierces the air. "Or perhaps you think I'll go easy on you because of Alister? He seems to think you'll walk out of here victorious."

A pulse in the side of my neck seems to twitch. My head is pounding, and I feel a nightmare of a migraine coming on as I stand tall. Being outside and away from the estate is the last thing I'd like. But it seems hearing about that usually silent prince being a bit of a chatter box with this red haired boy is something I'd like even less.

I whirl my gaze to the butler. For a second, I'm certain I see a look of displeasure in his eyes as he looks at Rylan. As if he's displeased by what the young heir is spouting before addressing the comment. "I don't seem to understand the meaning behind your words. Manners would insist you explain."

I choose to ignore his words of my supposed arrogance, more interested in the topic of conversation pertaining to the prince. I merely offer him a cold, unyielding stare waiting for some sort of reply.

He snorts. "Manners?" He mocks. I see him go from disinterested to focused in a second. He stands to his full height, seemingly prepared to make sure I don't win this fight, even though he shouldn't be so invested. "He seems to have an ample amount of respect for you."

My fingers twitch on my sword.

"Let's see if you can earn mine, Lady Sinclair." He sneers, teeth sharp like a rabid animal protecting its territory. His words, laced with a hint of challenge, cut through the tension in the air like a blade. He speaks of earning his respect, as if it's a prize to be coveted.