Not My Fairytale

Chapter 3.2

My father swatted away my first attempt, like I was a mere fly. I frowned, bouncing lightly on my toes in an attempt to get my heart rate back up. I faked left and struck right. Only to be blocked again. I pulled back, studying his stance, searching for weakness. I tried once more.

Blocked.

As was the theme of the morning, my father toyed with me until I felt physically and mentally drained. I wished that I could only figure his reasoning for this bizarre substitution for my usual, boring, sane morning training. What I had originally thought would be a quick test of skills, turned into another agonizing test of my patience that took far too long. My father's black hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat when I finally managed to land a hit. I took quiet solace in the fact that it had at least been a workout for him as well.

I followed suit as he dropped his stance, both of us panting hard from effort. He patted me on the back with a smile as he passed me, walking back to our bench. I was close behind him, plopping down hard on the cold metal, not bothering to try to wipe the sweat from my face this time, instead, wearing it like a badge of honor. After all, I had just managed to hit the most powerful man in the kingdom– maybe even the continent– a little sweat on my brow was to be expected.

By now, the onlookers were outright gawking at us. I wondered if any of them had ever seen their alpha break a sweat before. Or take a hit, for that matter. Probably not, if their faces were anything to go by. The thought had my chin tilting just a few degrees higher. He followed my gaze, the guards balking as he unapologetically stared them down in a move that brought a wicked smile to my lips before I could wipe the emotion back behind my blank facade.

We sat in silence, both nursing our slightly warm waters. He squinted up at the sun, now nearly halfway through its arc across the sky. "A little more, and then we will call it a day."

Excited at the prospect of putting this hell of a morning behind me, I eagerly followed him as he returned to our little corner of the field. He motioned for me to wait for him as he jogged away, slipping inside the door to the little armory. When he returned he tossed something at me. I caught the object awkwardly. A bandolier of knives, every slot filled but one.

"Are those ones stakes?" I eyed the nasty looking points, probably red oak, if I had to make a guess.

He hummed a confirmation, holding out a knife hilt-first, "I want you to get a feel for the weight of the bandolier, but this is all you will need for today."

"A wooden knife?" I tested its weight in my palm.

"Can't have you hurting anyone," He replied without looking at me, his eyes scanning back over the guards.

He disappeared again as I strapped the weapons across my chest, returning with a small group of wary guards, three men and a woman, all wearing the violet and silver sash. "For today, we will just focus on knives and daggers. One on one, the first person to land a killing blow wins."

I nodded in understanding, slipping the wooden knife into the empty slot on the bandolier, freeing my hands. I bounced restlessly on my toes as my father drew the assembled guards with him a few yards away. He spoke to them quickly, in hushed tones before turning to me with an eyebrow raised.

I nodded my head once, raising my fists up into a fighting stance while still bouncing lightly. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the guard closest to him, whispering one more thing to him. The man's eyes widened a fraction before he warily looked down at a wooden dagger in his hand. I noticed for the first time that all of the guards my father had assembled possessed wooden knives and daggers of varying sizes. So much for noticing everything, I thought darkly, remembering Franco's words from the day before. He sent a worried look over his shoulder at his companions before turning and charging in my direction. My father's arms crossed back over his chest as he seemed to settle himself to watch.

I let my opponent cross the distance until he was nearly upon me before I lunged to the side, letting his own momentum throw him off balance. Before he could right himself, I had my wooden dagger back out, ready to finish the fight before it had even truly begun. He lifted his own dagger just in time, barely deflecting my blow.

I loosened my hold on my wolf, just enough for my senses to sharpen as we circled each other. His finger twitched, not by a lot, but just enough to warn me before he thrust his dagger in my direction. I danced to the side, the dagger in my right hand lashing out to meet his blade while my left slipped a second dagger out of my bandolier, finding its way to the stubbled skin of his exposed neck. We both froze then, looking to my father to see if my use of a second weapon was acceptable, but he had already sent my second opponent barreling toward me.

I had no time to gloat over my first win, or to try to decipher what lay behind my father's calculating gaze. My second challenger was more agile than the last, breaking left just before he reached me, causing me to have to shuffle to keep him in sight. He circled me, shifting the tiny wooden dagger in his hand as he waited for me to make the first move. I knew he wanted me to strike at him, to create an opening. I did just that.

I ran at him, making like I planned to strike his left side. When he thrust out with his dagger, I dodged to his right. My hand shot out to grab the wrist of the hand that held his weapon, while my other hand bashed his temple with the hilt of my own dagger. He stumbled back a step, as I twisted the wrist I held in my hand, causing his dagger to drop. Next, I pulled on the wrist, causing him to stumble forward as I brought my dagger up and held it to his throat, looking to my father for only a moment, before shoving him aside and preparing for my next fight.

I bounced on my toes, enjoying the thrum of adrenaline coursing through my blood. I couldn't help but feel like I was being tested. It was no wonder why, with my father's quiet gaze never straying from me as I fought. I wondered again at the reasoning behind this peculiar morning, again feeling that it had to run deeper than just my mother being pregnant with another heir. But, even through my uncertainty, I let the determination from earlier continue to course through me. As it stood, I had already beaten two men much larger than myself. That had to be promising for me.

From the look of him, my third opponent had to be at least double my size. Unlike his two peers before him, he chose to calmly jog to where I stood instead of sprint. When he finally reached me, he slowed to a walk, circling steadily. He showed no intent to make the first move; I prepared myself to once again take the offensive.

I advanced on him, this time with both daggers raised, ready to strike. He deflected my first blow, retreating a step to avoid my second daggers dull blade. I attempted a fake to the left, turning in a smooth pirouette to thrust a blade at his other side. He recovered quicker than I anticipated, however, ducking back as my wooden dagger swung harmlessly inches from his chest. His arm shot out, his blade tracing a path across the thigh I had exposed in my lunge. I winced, knowing that while the blade was not sharp enough to slice the skin, the blunt force would be enough to leave a nasty bruise for an hour or two. I saw a triumphant smile form on my opponents lips as my body curled down toward my throbbing leg; saw his body relax just the slightest bit in anticipation of my surrender. Quick as lightning my right hand shot up, halting my blow just before the tip of my knife touched the underside of his chin. He grunted quietly in defeat.

I turned again to my father, blood racing happily in my veins, despite the tired ache I felt deep in my bones. My breath caught in anticipation when I saw that his hand had caught the final guards arm, stopping her advance. Can it be? Is this torment of a morning finally over?

His next words turned the hope to ash in my chest and brought a groan to my lips.

"I've seen enough of this. Now, we move on to theory."

~*~*~

Why do you guys think the king is training her himself?

And what do you think of those knife skills?

Let me know!