Sweat was slowly beginning to cover Joan’s body, though it felt good in its own way. With each swing of the training sword she felt the familiar memories guiding her body, that sensation of having done the same strike hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of times. Her body was getting stronger and growing into the familiar strikes once more and, hopefully one day, she would be able to launch them with the force required to deal with the threats that would rise in their future.

What didn’t feel good, however, were the eyes of Garbert burning a hole in the back of her head. She’d seen him arrive out of the corner of her eye and had been trying to avoid looking directly at him ever since. After all, he still seemed to be quite annoyed at her. Her meals were being brought into her room and she hadn’t eaten with the queen in days. She really hoped he’d be leaving back to the front lines soon.

Joan didn’t know what plan Searle had in mind to get them out of here, but she was struggling as hard as she could to believe that he would succeed in his promise. She still couldn’t shake the strangeness of that feeling, trusting him so heartily after all of the doubts and worries she’d had about him during all those lives. She wondered if that was the importance of the shield to begin with, helping the weak while the other chosen dealt with whatever threat was assaulting the world.

Or maybe she was overthinking it too much. At this point she figured it was all just guesswork. She wondered if she managed to succeed if she could just scream at the gods for all of this until her throat was soar. It would have probably been a silly idea to even try, but by the stars she wanted to. Why did she have to be the one to deal with their fallen gods? Why couldn’t they do it?

Joan froze when she felt someone behind her. She closed her eyes and hoped it wasn’t him, but judging by the intensity she felt, she could only imagine it was one person. Garbert. She slowly reminded herself that he was a prince and that being rude to him would be dangerous. Especially now when she was already on thin ice as it was and she couldn’t count on the queen’s protection forever. By the stars that felt even stranger think about. “Your highness,” she said before turning and giving a polite bow. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact you can,” the prince said, his arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “I’ve heard you’re quite the talented little child. From what I’ve seen, you’re a lot better than most even twice your age.”

“I’m honored you would say so,” Joan said, waiting for the trap to snap down. She may not have fully understood politics, but even she could see he was aiming for something. She just hoped it wasn’t her head. “I’ve still got a long way to go, however.”

“I can see that,” Garbert said, his gaze as cold as ice and his tone matching. “I’d like to test myself against you.”

Joan paused for a moment, staring at him. She had to suppress the urge to grin at that comment. She’d fought him hundreds of times across her lifetimes. While he had quite a bit of hype, all of her experiences facing him had proven him to be a rather lackluster and simple opponent. Even as she was she couldn’t imagine herself losing. More importantly, it was a good opportunity to get back at him for all the stress he’d been causing her. After all, royals of the Human Kingdom were expected to be able to fight. Beating one of them into the ground was considered fair game, so long as they challenged you. “If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to take you up on that offer. I’ve heard quite a few stories about you myself and I’d love to see how I compare,” she said in her most polite tone, internally squealing in delight at the chance at payback.

“Indeed,” Garbert said before walking past her towards the rack of weapons and drawing one of the dulled training swords. He then turned to face her.

“Don’t you want to put on your protection?” Joan asked, eyeing him up and down. He wasn’t even wearing a padded gambeson. She could think of a dozen or so past tutors she’d had who would have had a fit.

“I won’t need it,” he said before aiming the tip of the sword at her.

“Suit yourself,” Joan said, only barely suppressing a squeal of delight. She’d need to hold back and ensure he didn’t break, but it didn’t make it any less fun. “Ready whenever you--”

Her words were cut off by his sudden movements. She had fought thousands, likely millions of demons in her past lives, she had seen creatures move so fast that the rest of the world might as well have been standing still. The prince was nowhere near that fast, but when he took off at her, she hesitated for a mere moment in surprise. She recognized the strike, but he covered the distance between them in an instant, his blade coming at her side.

Joan quickly cast her spell, bringing her sword up to parry the strike. She barely managed to catch the strike with the side of the blade, but her enchantment wasn’t fully up yet and the sword was knocked from her hands and struck her chest. The sheer force of the blow sent her toppling backwards, crashing to the ground. She laid there for a moment, a harsh pain in her chest from where the sword had powered through her guard to hit her, even through her own protection.

“Are you done?” Garbert asked.

“No,” Joan said, slowly getting to her feet and picking up her sword. “I guess I lost that one, then,” she said, trying to push that thought away. She couldn’t understand what just happened. He couldn’t move that fast, he’d never moved anywhere near that fast.

“Very well, whenever you’re ready,” he said, once more readying himself, the sword held out diagonally from his body, the tip risen up and over towards her.

Joan nodded and gripped her sword in both hands this time, letting her magic wash over her to reinforce her body. It was a mistake on her part, it had to be. She’d been overconfident, that was all. The prince wasn’t that fast or strong, she just let her guard down. Let her mind wander. That was all. “Ready.”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

He came at her again and, to her quickly growing horror, she realized he was that fast AND strong. His blade struck again and again, each time so fast that she doubted she could have kept up with it if she hadn’t been able to so easily predict his movements. Even with that extra split second she had, she could only barely get her sword between herself and his strikes in time. On top of that, each strike against her sword made it rattle painfully in her grip and forced her to take a small step back. She was quickly driven back, desperately struggling to parry the blade again and again.

How was this even possible? He had NEVER been anywhere near this. She’d fought him so many times and--

Joan’s eyes widened when she realized what had happened. He’d never truly fought her. All those stories and legends she’d heard about him had been true. He’d just never shown her his true capability when she was the Hero.

Her thoughts were shattered when she backed into something hard behind herself. She realized a moment later that she’d hit the low fence around the training grounds. His sword was already coming, there was nowhere for her to escape now and she was backed into a wall.

So she did the only thing she could. Joan fell back, over the fence, toppling over it and rolling, putting a few feet between the two of them. That should at least buy her a second to--

The prince didn’t hesitate, putting a foot on the fence, he leaped over it.

She mentally cursed, wondering if he was trying to actually kill her. Her hands hurt and the blow on her chest still ached. She’d never been killed by a training sword before but she wasn’t doubting that he could if he wanted to. How in the world was he like this? She’d have thought he was part demon if she didn’t know that was impossible.

Her mouth fell open in amazement when she realized. He was using the same trick she was. Enhancing his body with magic to make himself both stronger and faster. She had to give him some credit, he was incredibly good at it. Far better than she would have imagined someone other than her being.

But for the moment, it put her at a distinct disadvantage. His magical reserves, speed and strength were likely far above her own, though she had more experience, finesse and control than he likely did. If she wanted any chance, she had to move now.

Jumping over the fence like he had done was a smart move, it only took a second and since she was on the defensive, she suspected he wouldn’t expect her to try and capitalize on it. But while he was in the air, his movements were far slower and harder to manage. She had one chance. She ran at him, deflecting his swing with her sword and--

Her thoughts were cut out by his knee suddenly coming up and striking her, hard, in the chest. She was sent toppling backwards, landing on the ground and skidding a few inches, her sword clattering to the ground. Before she could move, his sword tip was at her throat. He stared down at her, anger in his eyes and for a moment she wondered if he intended to jam the dulled blade into her throat.

Instead, he pulled the blade back and offered her his hand. Very slowly she reached out to take it, trying to ignore the pain in her chest. It felt like he’d shattered the bone, though she suspected that was unlikely. Either way she’d be feeling this pain for a while she was sure.

The prince pulled her to her feet, before leaning in and whispering into her ear. “Listen clearly, urchin. I have many people watching you. Step one more foot out of line and I will ensure that you are no longer able to ever cause anyone any more trouble. The only reason you still draw breath is at my mother’s insistence but that will only carry you so far. Are we clear?” he asked, before letting her hand go.

Joan stared up at him for a few moments before nodding numbly. She’d actually lost. If they’d been fighting to the death she would have died. Even when she watched him walk away, she couldn’t move.

He’d been such a good boy in her past lives, always eager to please and so much like his father, struggling to keep the peace between the hero and the queen. Yet now he was so far beyond her and he seemed to truly hate her. How was this even possible?

“Joan? Are you okay?” Bauteut’s voice asked, making her jump. She whipped around and saw the healer standing behind her. She hadn’t even noticed the girl walking up behind her.

“What?” Joan asked.

“Are you okay? I saw that, it looked really painful,” Bauteut said before reaching out and touching her cheek. “Nothing seems to be broken, but that’s going to cause a nasty bruise. Let me guess, you want to do it again?”

“No,” Joan said, shaking her head. “I think I should go soak in the bath for a little bit, to be honest.”

Bauteut stared at her for a few moments before her eyes narrowed. “Who are you and what have you done with Joan? Taking a break rather than trying to push yourself to near death? You truly must not be feeling well.”

“Huh?” Joan asked and struggled to process what she was just told. “Sorry. I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Joan? Does your head feel okay? How hard did you hit the ground?” Bauteut asked.

“Not hard. Sorry, I’m just thinking,” Joan said again, her eyes glancing back towards the prince. “You ever just feel like you missed the obvious? Over and over and over again?”

“Yeah, but I finally broke up with him after I caught on,” Bauteut said with a small chuckle.

“Wait, what?” Joan asked.

“Nothing, you’ll understand when you’re older. Or you won’t,” Bauteut said before shrugging. “How about you go and clean up? I’ll make up some ointment for that bruise of yours, okay?”

Joan nodded and turned to walk back towards the castle, her mind spinning through what she’d learned. She never would have imagined he could be so fast or strong, what did that mean about the king and queen? She’d always suspected they were powerful, but nothing like that. If he could use that spell so easily, how long had he been practicing it? As far as she knew there were only a handful of people who even used it regularly, how was he one of them? What did it all mean about her future and the future of this world? More importantly, if he could use it like that what would she be capable of once she was his age and her body developed?

Joan went still when she felt that all too familiar chill go down her back. Something was watching her, wasn’t it? She looked around, but she couldn’t see it or even touch it with her magic. Yet it had to be there. She felt her frustration only growing. “Who’s there?” she asked. “Who’s out there? If you’re going to do something, just do it. Just--”

Then, as quickly as it started, it was gone. Joan let out an annoyed sigh. It couldn’t be her imagination, could it? Maybe she was going mad. Or was it her memories trying to warn her about something she didn’t notice? An instinct crafted over lifetimes? She gave a soft sigh and tried to push the thought aside. She couldn’t do anything about it now, so why worry about it?

Because worrying was about all she was good for now, she supposed.