Sneaking back into the mountain palace early the next morning reminded Fang of the night Tias brought her in, except this time she was in on the deceit and knew where she was going – the high vaulted halls with their red and gold pennants shifting slowly in the mountain's breath were a familiar sight. That, and after living here for a month as one of the Dragon Princes' Ladies Fang had something of a good reason to be there. So when they rounded the corner to the wing where she lived with Valen and almost ran head-first into Benna, the Warden's questions were more concerned with 'where have you been?' instead of 'who are you and how did you get in here?'
"We went to Kitsara for the night," Valen explained, "too much going on here."
Benna rolled her eyes and sighed like a frazzled mother, but rather than launch into a lecture on curfew she briefed them on the Emperor and First Prince's moods. "His Majesty is nursing a royal headache after last night, so he's called off his appointments for the day in the name of celebrating the new baby. Your brother's been preening and strutting the palace all night, best let him have his good mood for a while."
"How is Lady 'Sana?" Fang asked.
Benna flipped a hand as if shooing away an insect. "Lady Aisana is resting. She went to sleep as soon as the little one was cleaned up and presented to His Majesty, she'll probably wake up sometime around dinner. Having babies is exhausting work even when they aren't those monsters your brother sires, this one was almost seven kilos." Ben winced. "Anyway, now that you're here you might as well go see Freya – she's in the training pitch showing off for Roban, she might be distracted enough for you to catch her off guard for once." By the twitch of the Warden's ears, Fang thought Benna might be implying that Valen would have a chance to show off too.
Valen let out a huff, his breath stirring his shaggy fringe. "It has been a couple of days since I went to training. Fang?" he turned to her, "do you want to come watch?"
Half an hour later, she followed Valen down the high hall in fresh clothes and slipped her hand into his arm when he offered it. She'd brushed her hair and pulled it back with silver combs embedded with pieces of crystal and gold wire, and had pulled Valen's hair back out of his eyes with a length of red silk; Valen padded down the long red-and-gold carpets with his feet wrapped in strips of elastic fabric that left his toe-claws exposed and offered more flexibility than shoes. His choice of clothes were the now-familiar leggings and loose, light-colored tunic with short sleeves. Fang liked the look, especially the contrast between his deep scarlet skin and the cream-colored tunic over dark leggings; he looked like a warrior from one of the many, many books in his personal collection, the ones who dedicated their lives to training their bodies and minds for war. She asked him if he'd ever beaten Freya.
"Not as often as I'd like," he bobbed one shoulder. "When I started training I didn't want her to go easy on me because I'm short, and she took it as an order. She's trounced me more often than not, but I like to think it's made me a better sparring partner. I do get some good hits in... sometimes." His ears flattened against his head.
"Should I think about picking up something, like a sword?" Were Lady Consorts expected to be as good as the Wardens when it came to fighting? Fang guessed she could at least try, however ridiculous she might look. Imagine, a tiny human woman among seven-foot-tall Drass, wielding a child's sword like a toothpick! I bet Susa could take me out in one hit.
"If you want to, but you don't have to. I just don't know if a human can handle Drass training – you don't have tails for balance or scales for defense."
"Hm," Fang nodded. Good point. They passed one of the many tapestries depicting ancient battles, kingdoms and pre-unification territories fighting over political borders, resources and crimes both real and imagined. Fang was beginning to pick up on the history of the Drassian Empire now that she could read passably well and thought she recognized some of the scenes: King Rashlan lifting the blood-soaked head of Minister Odegan, the advisor who'd turned against him and tried to break ties with other kingdoms; the Rebel Queen Takara riding enemies down on her gigantic white mount and running them through with her obsidian lance; Tenurkhan the first Dragon Emperor kneeling before the smith who forged the gold chains worn by every Dragon Emperor since as a symbol of their obligation and connection to the Empire. Perhaps Valen would someday find a place on these walls.
The training pitch's vaulted, cavernous ceiling echoed with a metallic clangor as Wardens sparred and drilled with their mockup weapons, bouncing blows off of padded armor with heavy thuds and whumps. Fang and Valen found Freya easily, as she was the one responsible for a good deal of those blows. She and another Warden thrashed each other with lances of carbon-fiber wrapped in cloth to blunt their brutal strikes – Freya had never heard of holding back and she wasn't about to go soft in front of her intended. Roban sat on a long bench along the wall, watching from between the thickly-padded shoulders of other Wardens, and he bowed his head as Valen and Fang passed. "Isn't she magnificent?" the Drass stable-hand nodded towards his soon-to-be bride, ears standing up and his long tail swishing. "She's been at it for over an hour!"
"Over an hour?" Valen's ears perked. "So she's tired..." He gave Fang a look. Should I?
Fang gave him a playful push. "Go on, showoff." She grinned as he bounced across the springy floor mats towards the wall of weapons, most of them longer than his body including his tail, then bounded back with a long pole ready to swing. Valen crept up behind Freya and slid the pole through his hands, stalking forward towards the Warden's back. But in the half-second before he could get a strike in Freya spun and whipped the 'blade' of her lance at the pole and smacked it away. Roban gave a whoop, then ducked sheepishly at Fang. "Beg your pardon, My Lady."
Fang waved him off. "She trains him, she probably knows all of his tricks." She watched as Freya blocked both Valen and the other Warden at once, then turned the momentum of her defense into a fluid attack that Fang could only describe as beautiful: the overhead lighting glinted off of Freya's curving black horns, her yellow eyes cool and focused as she rolled her shoulder back to aim. Sweat stuck loose strands of dark hair to her forehead and cheek, yet the young Warden twisted like incense smoke to dodge a vicious swipe while delivering her own savage hit on the other Warden's thigh. Freya kicked out and caught her in the chest, driving a rough oof! from her, then spun and stopped Valen's arcing overhead swing with a two-handed grip. She shoved him off and watched him step back.
"Thought you could sneak up on me, Your Grace?" Freya bared her tusks, barely winded. "Come on then, if you can stay out all night you can handle a couple of rounds!"
Fang watched Valen plant his feet. Here we go! Not that she had any knowledge or understanding of hand-to-hand combat, but she'd lived among the Drass long enough to know that the Federation had every reason to be wary of them. She watched him raise his pole and step into position. "Let's have it, then!"
Freya scraped the 'blade' of her lance in an arc on the mats, the rough fabric growling as the padded end dragged over it; Valen spaced his feet apart, bending his knees and lashing his tail. The Wardens on the bench nudged and whispered among themselves, commenting on his and Freya's form and the handling of their weapons while Roban leaned over to listen, his eyes never leaving his intended. Benna came to Fang's side and began pointing out various features to explain what she was seeing: "Freya's taking the fortress stance, she expects him to come at her first. But she could also launch an attack from that position – see how Valen's heels are off the ground? He has to be prepared for anything."
Fang studied the two, impressed by Freya's poise but quite stunned by the shift in Valen's composure – the Dragon Prince's expression had changed from casual to calculating, though the slight upturn of his lips hinted at confidence. His brows drew together above his nose, shading his orange eyes as they narrowed to focus on his opponent, and his leaf-shaped ears stood up as they turned towards Freya. Though she outsized him, Valen's steady grip on the training-pole and even breaths indicated that he didn't fear her. Of course he's not scared of her, she trained him, but that's not the point – she's bigger, but he knows what he's doing. That same confidence in his own skills had to have started somewhere, and being comfortable with his physical capabilities was as good a foundation as any.
The Wardens hummed and gestured, looking for this tell or that slight imbalance, but they found very little to actually criticize: "His form is good, a proper opening stance. Excellent balance for his size. Short just means less weight to move around." Fang barely understood the jargon, but what she did see told her that in spite of his smaller size, Valen would probably hold his own well enough under Freya's advances; the coming clash was bound to be an exciting one.
Fang blinked and almost missed the opening salvo – Freya shifted her weight forward and Valen sprang to the side, leaving Freya's lance to thwack sharply on the mat where he had stood two seconds before. Then the lance jerked upward, Valen's blunt pole sliding under it and snapping it almost straight up. Freya hissed, lower tusks gleaming, and her ears slapped down flat against her head. She readjusted her grip and spun in what Fang thought was the wrong way – away from Valen – until the Warden suddenly pulled her lance sharply inward and drove it back like a piston under her arm. Valen threw his shoulder back to keep the lance's blunted end from punching a hole in his chest. Fang had to resist the urge to rub her eyes, as if she could remove whatever had prevented her from following such swift, brutal moves. Ashes, Freya's strong but he's fast!
Freya stood in the center of the mat, turning slowly to follow Valen while he changed his position. He held the pole horizontally, one hand knuckles-down and the other palm-up, a fierce grin parting around his gold tusks and showing the short fangs in his upper jaw. "Not bad, but you're slow. Are you tired, Warden?"
"Speed is fleeting," Freya tossed her head, the gold rings in her ears jangling. "Anyone can be fast for a moment, it's strength that wins battles."
Valen suddenly reversed his pace "A moment's all I need."
"Is that what you tell your Lady Courtesan?" Freya asked dryly, pivoting to match his new course. "How sad for her." Fang smothered a snort – the good-humored banter clashed sharply with their ferocious expressions, as if watching a recording dubbed with entirely different dialogue. Oh, this is fun! They certainly looked like they were having fun, and for just a flash Fang envied the Warden who got to spend hours trading blows and barbs with the Dragon Prince.
"No more terrible than Roban having to deal with your plodding," Valen darted forward, slashing with his pole. Freya batted the strike aside as if it were nothing.
"My plodding will tire slower than your sprinting, Your Grace. Don't you remember anything I've taught you?" Freya deflected another blow as if bored. "I'm tempted to call Anya back on the field, at least I could feel her hits."
"You want to feel something?" challenged Valen, "I didn't know you could." In a burst of incredible speed, he feinted to his left and went for the Warden's ribs. In a fraction of a moment Fang caught Freya's expression as it changed from cool boredom to alarm as Valen's pole hummed through the air; she just barely dodged it. "Ha! You were saying, Warden?"
Quickly regaining her composure Freya huffed. "Eyah, all right, enough playing." She shook the loose hairs back out of her face and adopted a fresh fortress stance. "Let's see what you've got, Your Highness. No holding back."
"Are you sure?" One of Valen's scale-studded brows cocked. "I don't want Roban to have paid your bride-price for nothing."
"And I don't want your Lady to become your nurse."
Fang chuckled. Freya, you would've been a good match for him. Her chest twinged at that, imagining Valen with a Drass woman instead of her. Stop it. It's going to happen someday, better get used to the idea. Biting the inside of her cheek, Fang forced her eyes up and swallowed the knot in her throat so she could watch him duck beneath a savage swipe of Freya's lance and spring back up to deliver a strike of his own. His speed and smoothness of movement held Fang's gaze in awe, and watching him spin, jump and lunge brought to mind the steps of a dance he'd been teaching her for the fast-approaching reception of the Federation Envoy. He fights like he dances – he knows every step and enjoys it. And he's so fast! By comparison Freya's moves were listless and delayed, her heavily-muscled body slow and onerous. Valen could break across the pitch, slide into an attack position and set his offensive in motion before the Warden could turn around, Freya compensating with even more brutal blows.
"Are you even trying?" Valen taunted, springing aside as Freya's lance came crashing to the mat. The canvas wrapping split and the inner pad's compressed foam surged out like the intestines of a gutted yangru. "Or is your prospect distracting you?"
Fang gasped and laughed, turning with a smile to Roban who slapped his knees and yelled encouragement. The other Wardens thumped his shoulders with their fists, teasing him and asking if he really thought he could handle such a vicious, robust woman. Roban's eyes glowed with adoration as he watched Freya duck Valen's pole and swipe at his feet. "She's terrifying, that's why I like her!"
The Wardens howled with laughter, stamping their boots and pounding the blunt ends of their practice weapons on the floor. "Just like her mother!" they agreed, nodding to Benna. "No offense, Madam Warden."
Benna waved a hand in the air, but she leaned down and said quietly in Fang's ear, "Roban's a smart one, he knows he should be more afraid of Freya than me – she's the one he'll have to deal with, it's best to keep her happy."
Though she smiled, Fang's heart crumbled like rotten ice. Seeing Roban's devoted expression forced her to remember that everything she and Valen seemed to have was a lie. I know Valen doesn't look at me like that. Fang curled one of her hands into a fist inside her sleeve where no one could see, her gold-lacquered nails digging into her palm. After we meet the envoy and the colony gets going, I have to start moving away from this. From him. He'll be too busy to notice at first, by the time he realizes he doesn't need me anymore I'll already be gone. After that, Valen would be free to find a good Drass woman to–
"You short-horned little FREAK!"