The Serpent's Veil

Cold Steel

His fingers grazed their hilts and finally stopped on a double edged sword. He pulled it from the rack and twirled it with confidence. Khaya observed his movement, and suddenly she could hear the air tearing apart to make way for the blade. He stopped abruptly and handed it to an attendant. Rayta too had left her sword.

The Prince and the Princess stood in the centre, looking each other in the eye. Their profiles were cut like paintings against the open archway, radiating raw power.

"Rare of you to bring someone to watch," he said, nodding his chin to where Khaya sat, "A friend?"

"Perhaps," she said, "Today I will have the first strike."

"So be it."

They held each other's forearm, a greeting between soldiers, and parted. The hall held its breath.

Rayta pulled back her right fist and lunged for his shoulder, but Rehan dodged just as fast. Rayta did not hesitate, spinning around with her left elbow aimed for his head. Again he dodged, stumbling slightly. She swung her leg into his side, and this time he fell on his knees. The women let out a sigh of dismay, but Rehan was up just in time to grab Rayta's next kick, and their voices rose in a cheer.

Khaya was staring wide eyed at them, movements flashing too fast to blink, recovering so seamlessly as if they had never been struck. Rehan pivoted himself around his position, while Rayta struck him from all sides, like a tiger circling its prey. Yet each time it seemed like she would gain the upper hand he countered and pushed her back out again.

Rayta feinted and aimed a jab at his jaw, but his metal braces blocked the move and, to Khaya's complete bewilderment, grabbed a handful of her hair and threw her over his shoulder. She flew across the room and landed in a heap, but no one moved to go to her aid. The women's voices chorused their approval, but Khaya was motionless. Rehan's expression was of indifference. Sweat dripped from his brow, colouring his brown hair a darker shade at the roots. He let out a breath and relaxed his shoulders. His eyes scanned the line of women, then turned and fell on Khaya. For a heartbeat they gazed at each other, and his expression shifted from idleness to curiosity.

That moment was enough to be his undoing.

Rayta had long since risen, and glided across the room to land a powerful kick in the centre of his chest, throwing him flat onto the ground. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as a bell sounded, concluding their first bout. She held out a hand and Rehan took it without acknowledgement.

They did not stop for a rest. The attendant stepped forward with their weapons, and the bell sounded again after they took their places once more. This time there was no first strike given, as they both leapt towards each other, sword arms pulled back. Their blades clashed, and the sound shook Khaya to the bone, though her gift had not surged this time.

A thought struck her.

Khaya focussed her gaze on the Prince's blade, willing all other sounds to cease. The women's whispering, the shuffling of their garments, the heavy breaths of everyone in the room, there were too many noises interfering. She squeezed her eyes shut and probed again.

As Rayta pulled her scimitar up to block Rehan's strike Khaya opened her eyes. There it was, the sound of the air making way for his weapon, like the cracking of a vicious whip. The blades struck, and Khaya flinched at the violence of the sound ringing in her ears. Meia startled, but before she could say anything Khaya put her hand up.

"I'm fine," she said, eyes glued to the warriors' movements. Rehan pulled his blade back and spun around to counter. Khaya listened to the singing of the air.