“Let’s go, beaut,” I whisper to Ran, ignoring the sounds of intermittent cheers and boos from the crowd in the arena.

She nudges my shoulder, not saying anything, just sharing in my disappointment at the loss.

I truly wished to win. To show them that I could. To show them I’m not beaten, no matter what. I wanted to prove I can do impossible things. But I can’t. My last battle truly showed me I’m not as good as I thought.

A little humility can go a long way, rider.

I sigh. “You’re right. It’s just that it doesn’t feel great to be shown that. Besides, have I not been humiliated enough?”

She flicks an ear. An understatement if I ever I heard one.

I can’t help but chuckle with her and pat her hairy neck. “I’m glad I have you, my sister.”

She turns her head so one big brown eye is on me and the warmth that grows there and through the bond is unmistakable.

~~~

“You could’ve taken him out way before that,” Sir Hans says, stroking his streaked beard.

I glance around the backyard of the Hans estate, taking in the trimmed hedges, outbuildings for various tools, a small area of dirt where I imagine Hans goes to train, and various fountains bubbling soothing sounds to all who hear.

I peek at Hans, who only waits and watches me silently until I answer. I rub my knee, thankful it already feels much better. Almost normal. It's kinda freaky, but I'm thankful all the same.

I sigh. “Any of those could’ve hurt him. Badly. Maimed him for life. How do you go from a life of fighting for your life and maiming and sometimes killing to a tournament that you really don’t wish to kill your opponent?”

A grin tugs at his lips and his eyes sparkle in mirth. I glare, but that only makes his amusement pull at his lips before he straightens them back out. “You were so worried about hurting him, and you still almost beat him? You’re better than you give yourself credit for. He had no qualms about hurting you.”

I shrug. “He was a kindred spirit, in a way. He didn’t like the show, either. Unlike some,” I say pointedly. I know I’m being a little petty, but I can’t help it! I don’t want to talk about my failure.

“Aria, you must go out and fight to win. If you have any hope of rescuing your family and Prince Arin, you must give your best.”

I mumble and grumble a bit more, but know he’s right. It’s one thing to fight for your life. It’s a whole other thing to put it into a sport.

“Tell you what... we shall spar.”

I jerk my head up. He rubs his chin in thought, sharp blue-grey eyes taking in my every reaction. I shake my head. “No, I could—“

“You could hurt me, yes. But I will teach you how to spar, how to hit without maiming and win honorably.”

“In fights to the death, there is no honor.”

“Precisely. This is why you must learn a little different tactic when it comes to the arena.”

I jerk a nod. “Alright. Fine. You’re right.”

He grins, but it doesn’t reach his concerned eyes. He sets a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, little minx. And you’ve helped many. We shall say this is only a small... hiccup in your journey.”

The compassion in his voice undoes me. I blink away tears, and he draws me to his chest. I take deep breaths, shoving the emotion back. He smells of a warm fire and pine needles, a comforting, homey scent.

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I back out of the hug and wipe away a few wet spots on my cheeks, avoiding his gaze. “Thanks.”

He squeezes my shoulder, then turns away, clearing his throat. “I will do whatever I can to help. You're family now, whether or not I like it.” He pulls a face, and I give a small laugh.

“Let’s go get you washed up and dressed for dinner, or my wife is going to have my hide.”

~~~

Dinner is once again divine, filled with laughter and love, but I cannot bring myself to enjoy it. The conversation floats around me as utensils click and I force myself to keep eating until the food is gone.

“Ri, come.” Sir Hans snaps his fingers in front of my face.

I look at him a bit blankly as he watches me with amusement and a hint of concern.

“Are you alright?” the lady of the house asks, a furrow in her gentle brow.

Her daughter watches me like a hawk, but I avoid everyone's gaze. I sure don't want the girl getting any ideas. I can't even remember her name, for goodness' sake. But the way she watches me and tries to catch my eye... it makes me wary.

I shake my head from my stupor. “I will be. Thank you, My Lady.”

She shakes her finger at me, a frown pulling at her lips, and something in her brow speaks of pain. “Nuh-Uh. We’ve been over this. It’s Jenny to you.” She smooths the lilac gown she wears, and I see a spot of blue paint on the shoulder. It seems her smock didn't entirely catch what it was meant to while Jenny painted.

I give her a small, slightly forced smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”

Hans leads me outdoors to a flat area. The grass is beat down to almost nothing in a circular frame, and to one side there hangs the wooden swords, axes, and knives on the side of what appears to be a woodshed.

“So, how are we going to go about this?” I ask, but the hairs stick up on the back of my neck and I duck, a sword sweeping over my head.

I jump when he swings the sword back around for my feet, habit sweeping over me with a jolt of adrenaline. I use my left arm to redirect his sword hand when he jabs at me, while I step into his personal space, negating his reach advantage. He blocks me with his thigh when I attempt to slam my knee into his groin.

He grunts as my bony knee connects. I know from personal experience that will leave a mark. And that makes me hesitate in my palm strike to his face, giving him an opening.

He shoves me to the ground, overpowering me with his bulk.

His sword lands on the soft divot of my neck when I land in the grass on my back.

He steps away, appraising me.

“You’re dead.” His narrowed gaze seems to find me wanting. “Too much heart, too little flow. You couldn’t touch a fairyfly for fear of ripping its wings.” His words hit a chord that stroke a deep-set embarrassment that morphs into anger.

I hop off my bum with a near silent growl. He resets his sword, but I’m done playing nice. He jabs, a feint I almost fall for despite myself, then he quickly pivots his blade, aiming for the soft skin under my armpit. I kick out, knocking his sword hand away. Stepping closer, I block a jab that he sends at me with his free hand. I head butt him, my forehead connecting with his mouth.

He shakes his head, mirth slightly upturning one corner of his now bloody lips. Stepping in, he tries to sweep my leg. I sidestep, his punch I barely saw grazing my temple even as he continues past me, and I stick out a foot, tripping him.

He rolls, but I’m on him in a matter of seconds. Knowing I’m behind him, he rolls again. He throws a blind, if lucky, kick that gets my shin near the spot Sir Xonier hit my knee. "That HURT, you bastard!" Whoops... did I say that aloud?

I pounce like a cat on a mouse, drawing my arm around his neck and locking it as I put my legs around his waist. He recovers quicker than any person I’ve ever seen. With a headlock, you have a matter of seconds before the air is pinched from your brain... that’s if it’s done right. And I do it right, thank you very much.

He jabs his hard elbow into my ribs, loosening my grip, then throws me over his shoulder.

I get up grinning. I haven’t had a fun spar like this since daddy died. The thought wants to impede my enjoyment, but I shove it down.

Sir Hans holds up a hand, calling for a pause. “That, my dear, is what we’re looking for.” He rubs his neck, and I plop on my hind end to rub my stinging shin.

He looks down at me and we share a laugh.

“Sir, you hit like a Timber. And trust me, I know.”

He shakes his head and plops beside me, ruffling my hair. I bat him off with a glare. He chuckles.

“Little minx, you’re a fighter. A fright quicker than anyone I’ve seen. But you don’t want to hurt anyone. That is what we will work out of you yet. You have too much empathy for this hard world.” His voice is kind, but it still hits me in the gut. I grunt.

He watches a guard walk a patrol. Sir Hans gives the guy a lazy salute when the lad stops to bow.

I watch the fellow, amused and impressed at the alertness I see in his eyes. Wonder what Sir Hans cooks up in that brain of his to keep his guards looking so spiffy on such a mundane assignment as patrolling.

Or... I suppose I did meet the man because of his kidnapped son. Perhaps Sir Hans just lives an exciting life.

“Aria, can you give up your fear?” His almost flippant words strike directly to the core, and I avoid his gaze. "Fear and failure oft go hand in hand. Where there is one, there is oft the other."