The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 29

"I don't understand this Ardalonian hatred for bows. Your sister's men seem quite content with their crossbows."

Beatriz fixed me with a look, ignoring the hand I'd outstretched towards her to help me rise.

"Fine, idiota. Tomorrow you can prove how peerless you are with a bow," she said, hopping back a few steps and swinging out her arms. "You should know that I'll be the first to laugh if you aren't as good as you claim you are."

I chuckled as I pushed myself to my feet, taking the opportunity to pull my sweat-slicked shirt away from my chest. The air was a wonder against my skin, the heat oppressive when coupled with the exertion of duelling Beatriz. We'd camped on the bank of a river and I was counting the seconds until I'd be freed from training to dive into the water.

When I realized that Beatriz' eyes had fallen to the hem of my shirt and the bare skin I'd exposed by tugging at it, a most mischievous idea took root in my head. Perhaps if I distracted her, I'd finally succeed in besting her.

Or at least, that's what I told myself to excuse my actions.

"I'm tired of you pummelling me," I said, yanking the shirt up and over my head with my free hand. I chucked it away, Beatriz' eyes following as it settled into a sweaty clump on the ground. When they returned to me, she inspected the pale skin of my torso before meeting my gaze with a lifted eyebrow.

"Do you really think I've never seen a man's body before, idiota?" she asked.

I opened my mouth with some saucy response when she reached down and tugged off her shirt much the same way I had. I gulped, thankful for the band of cloth wound around her...

I cleared my throat, tearing my eyes away from where they'd wanted to wander.

"Have you never seen a woman, then?" Beatriz taunted. I looked everywhere but at her and her bare arms and shoulders and...parts that Pretanian girls usually kept corseted. She laughed, delighting in my reaction and punishing me with her practice sword. I tried to deflect her beating, but it was useless with her nearly naked body wielding it. She swept my feet out from under me and I landed with a huff, flat on my back again.

"Clearly you've never been to Bazera," she said, crossing her arms over her sparsely clothed chest, standing over me. I could barely look at her, at the expanse of bronze flesh on display. None of the other men seemed to think anything of it, the rest of them going about their evenings as if a half-naked princess was not something abnormal. Frederico was the only one who seemed to mind, his irritated gaze straying our way from where he was talking with Rafael and Vincente.

"Clearly," I said, accepting the hand she extended to haul me up. I kept the other hand fisted, resisting the temptation of reaching out to touch her bare skin.

I was doomed.

"I never understood how Pretanian girls stood being tied up in corseted cages all day," Beatriz said, running a hand over her stomach with a wince. "Barbaric, if you ask me."

When I managed to tear my eyes from her fingers, I realized she was laughing at me.

"Don't think such a distraction will work a second time," I said, pointing the practice sword at her. In response, she quirked an eyebrow, reaching around to the knot that fastened the band of cloth wound around her chest.

I chucked my sword away, running a hand through my hair as I tried not to sprint for the creek. Anything to abate the blood boiling in my veins, the heat that radiated from my stomach all the way to my toes. Toes that curled with delight at the thought of touching Beatriz' stomach.

Her laugh chased me, pealing heartily across the swaying grass.

"Come back!" she managed between bouts of laughter. "I'll put my shirt back on, you ninny Pretanian!"