CHAPTER 2: THE PRINCE WHO NEVER LOST

Three hundred miles north of Aurelion, Prince Kael Blackthorn drove his sword through the center of a wooden training dummy, the blade split the target with a sharp crack.

"Again," he ordered.

His opponent hesitated.

"Your Highness, we've been training for four hours."

Kael turned, the young soldier immediately regretted speaking.

"And?"

The prince stood six feet three inches tall, with broad shoulders, dark hair, and a face that seemed carved from stone. A thin scar crossed his left eyebrow, a souvenir from a battle he had entered at seventeen against his father's wishes, he wore black training clothes, leather bracers, and the expression of a man who considered surrender a personal insult.

"I asked you to attack me," Kael said.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Then attack me."

The soldier charged, Kael disarmed him in three movements, the sword landed several feet away.

"Dead," Kael announced.

The soldier bent over, breathing heavily, Kael offered him a hand.

"Your footwork was better today."

The soldier looked up in surprise.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Your balance was still terrible."

The soldier's smile disappeared, Kael walked toward the weapons rack, he was the eldest son of King Darius Blackthorn, heir to Dravaryn, commander of its royal cavalry, and the youngest prince in three generations to lead troops into battle, he had never lost a formal duel, never apologized for speaking his mind, and he had never met a person he considered his equal, until, unfortunately, he met Seraphina Valemont.

The mere thought of her irritated him, he could still remember her standing beneath the tournament pavilion, dressed in pale blue silk, explaining military supply routes to a gathering of generals as though she had personally invented war, she had corrected his calculations in front of his father, his father had then praised her, while Kael stood beside her with his jaw clenched so tightly he could barely speak, and when he had told her that a princess ought to concern herself with matters appropriate to her position, she had smiled,that smile had been worse than an insult, it had been pity, Kael had hated her ever since.

"Your Highness."

His father's chief adviser approached.

"The king requests your presence in the council chamber."

Kael wiped sweat from his forehead.

"If this concerns the southern border, tell him the scouts returned at dawn. There is no immediate threat."

"It concerns your marriage."

Kael slowly lowered the towel.

"My what?"

The adviser looked uncomfortable.

"Your marriage, Your Highness."

Kael stared at him, then he laughed.

"That's amusing."

"The king is waiting."

The prince stopped laughing, twenty minutes later, he stood before his father, who sat at the head of the council table, king Darius was a formidable man with silver at his temples and a voice that could silence a room without effort.

"The alliance with Aurelion must be secured," the king said.

Kael folded his arms.

"Then send diplomats."

"We have."

"Send better ones."

"Kael."

"Father."

The king's expression darkened.

"You will marry Princess Seraphina."

Silence, then Kael said, very carefully, "I'd rather marry my horse."

One of the advisers choked, king Darius did not blink.

"Your horse cannot secure our western border."

"Neither can that woman. She'll spend the entire marriage ordering my soldiers to rearrange their uniforms."

"She is intelligent, educated, and politically capable."

"She's unbearable."

"She is also the future queen of Aurelion."

"Then Aurelion should keep her."

"Enough!"

The king's voice shook the chamber, Kael fell silent.

"You are my heir. Your personal preferences cannot outweigh the safety of our kingdom. The wedding will take place in three months."

The prince's jaw tightened.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you will explain to every soldier who dies in the next border conflict that your pride was more important than their lives."

The words struck harder than Kael expected, he looked away, his father knew precisely where to aim, after a long silence, Kael straightened.

"Very well."

The king nodded.

"But I have one condition," Kael added.

Darius's expression became wary.

"What condition?"

Kael smiled without humor.

"Tell Princess Seraphina that I refuse to live in her palace."

"That is not your decision."

"Then tell her she will live in mine."

"And if she refuses?"

Kael turned toward the door.

"She won't."

The king stared after him.

"How can you possibly know that?"

The prince glanced over his shoulder.

"Because, Father, I intend to make her so miserable that she will beg to leave."

He walked out, unfortunately for Kael Blackthorn, Princess Seraphina Valemont had never begged anyone for anything in her life, and she wasn't about to start now.

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The first meeting between the future bride and groom took place two weeks later, it lasted exactly eleven minutes before disaster struck, Seraphina stood on the palace steps wearing an elegant ivory gown, her golden hair pinned beneath a delicate crown, behind her, the royal guards stood in perfect formation, the e musicians played a welcoming fanfare, the court watched from the windows, everything was perfect, until Prince Kael arrived on horseback, he wore black riding clothes, a dark cloak, and absolutely no ceremonial decorations, and worse, he was late, twenty-seven minutes late.

Seraphina's smile remained fixed, her fingers, however, tightened around her bouquet, Kael dismounted and handed the reins to a servant, he glanced at the palace, then at the assembled guests.

"Nice place," he remarked.

Seraphina stepped forward.

"Prince Kael. How generous of you to honor us with your presence."

His eyes moved to her face.

"Princess Seraphina. How generous of you to wait."

"I was under the impression that punctuality was a basic requirement of royal diplomacy."

"And I was under the impression that a greeting was supposed to be pleasant."

"Then we have both learned something today."

Kael's mouth twitched, he had expected her to be beautiful, he had also not expected her to look so infuriatingly composed while insulting him.

"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.

Seraphina looked at it, then she looked at him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No. I was merely wondering whether your arm is injured."

His eyebrows rose.

"Why?"

"Because I cannot imagine why else you would expect me to hold it."

A servant nearby coughed into his fist, Kael lowered his arm.

"Charming."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I know."

They entered the palace.