Iona took her time on the ride back, letting Tower wander a bit off course to sniff at whatever caught his attention. She wanted to extend her reprieve from the constant bustle of the palace as long as possible. A day and a quarter after leaving the cottage, she arrived at the palace, caught up on sleep, and awoke energized. Iona adjusted to sleeping in tents in the woods after thirty years but she certainly never enjoyed it and neither did her muscles.

Her next meeting with Leo was planned for the following morning, and Iona needed to do a walk of the estate perimeter in preparation. She grabbed a notebook from under a pile of papers on her desk, pulled her hair into a low knot, and headed out to the north entrance. It would take her around four or five hours to walk the full border. She could easily assign such a task to one of the palace guards, but Iona preferred doing everything. Delegation didn’t come easy to her; it was a skill she had to be taught by the King.

About an hour into her day, Iona stumbled upon a familiar sight- the old combat ring outside the main wall, where young soldiers would put their training to the test against one another. She assumed it had been disassembled when a new ring, sturdier and safer, had been built just after the War ended. But there it was, beckoning to her, and she found herself drawn right to its side. The ring sat several feet off the ground, and Iona, as she had many times over the years, hoisted herself up onto the creaky canvas. She ducked under the ropes which had become dry and prickly with age and drifted to the middle of the ring. A chill hung in the air but the sun beamed overhead, pushing against it. Iona began to shadowbox mindlessly- a light jab, just to get a feel of the distance between her and her non-existent opponent, followed by a stronger right punch, two more jabs at a quick speed.

Duck to the left, throw a matching hook. Hands up, protecting the face. Front kick. Slide in to close the space…

Iona used to shadowbox for hours and hours alone in this ring. When she was still quite young, fourteen or fifteen years old, her patience for courtier lessons began to grow thin. Elia tried to keep her engaged, but she hated every second of it. Iona often wondered where the boys were and why they didn’t have to take these ridiculous classes, even though- technically- Iona didn’t have to either. But she had promised her mother that she would so long as she was allowed to stay at the palace for longer stretches of time.

One day, she decided to see for herself what Leo and Heston were up to during the girls’ etiquette lesson. Elia grumbled that she would get in trouble for sneaking out of class, but knew she couldn’t stop Iona from doing whatever she had set her mind to. Iona waited until the lesson had kicked off and made some excuse about feeling woozy, asking to lie down for a few minutes. She was dismissed by the palace courtier teaching them, shooting Elia a sly wink as she hustled out of the room.

Instead of heading to the sleeping quarters, Iona crept through the hallways, listening for the sound of familiar male voices to indicate that she’d found Heston and Leo. After ten minutes or so, Iona knew she was running out of time and had to get back to the lesson or risk her mother hearing that she’d skipped out. She resolved to try again another day, but when she started back to the room, nothing around her looked very familiar. She had wandered to a part of the palace she’d never before been.

Iona hurried down the hallway she was in to another one, took a few various turns, and tried to pretend like she wasn’t lost. Several minutes of unsuccessful navigation later, she found herself in a small corridor with a skinny, elongated window at the end of it. Her frustration was replaced by curiosity as she walked over to peer out the glass. Below Iona was the combat ring, filled with young boys and seasoned soldiers, training in pairs with one partner running through boxing combinations while the other absorbed their blows. Eventually, the partners switched places so each could learn to both strike and be struck. Iona was absolutely fascinated. She spotted a familiar face in the ring- Leo, and another familiar face outside the ropes shouting instructions- Heston.

So this is what they get to do instead of learning embroidery and hostess duties, she thought. Lost in ruminations of jealousy, Iona didn’t hear the figure that crept up behind her. A hand clapped down on her shoulder, and Iona’s eyes widened at the touch- she was definitely supposed to be back to her lesson by now. A gravel laden voice filled the hall, “Little miss, I believe there’s a dance lesson happening at which you should be in attendance.”

King Theron.

Despite being best friends with his daughter, Iona hadn’t spent much time around the King. Their first real interaction, one on one, and it was his majesty finding her sneaking around the castle, sticking her nose where it shouldn’t be. “King Theron,” the young Iona managed to spit out, wheeling to look at him, “I’m so sorry, your majesty. I got lost, I didn’t mean to end up…snooping.”

Theron let out a hearty laugh, “When I was about your age, I got lost looking for the kitchen and they couldn’t find me for an entire day!” Iona responded with an uncomfortable chuckle, still not quite sure how to interact with the King himself. Theron then asked the question that changed the trajectory of Iona’s life from then on: “Would you like to join them?”

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“J-join them?” she stammered.

Theron gestured towards the window, “Those are our soldiers. Well, one day they will be. Some of them are girls, like you. If you want to join in, you’re more than welcome. Iona, correct? Asa’s daughter?”

Iona nodded. She looked over her shoulder, peering down at the ring of trainees. A chance to get out of those wretched courtier lessons. A chance to be a soldier of Chrysos. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Always happy to have new recruits- and you look strong. You’ll make a great addition to the team, so long as you’re dedicated and willing to work. And you’ll need your mother’s permission.”

“My father will say yes. I help him around our farm most days. Digging, and pulling weeds, and chopping wood, and all,” she assured. King Theron grunted an approval, and led her back through the maze of hallways.

Unlike courtier lessons, combat training came easy to Iona. She excelled. She thrived. For the next fifty plus years, she rose swiftly through the ranks of Theron’s army alongside her assigned training partner- Leo. A penchant for competition paired with mutual disdain propelled them both to top leadership positions within their cohort. The last time Iona fought in the ring, it was against Leo. The day before the War broke out. The troops were on edge, as reports of the Ladrons’ attacks were beginning to increase. To let off some steam, the soldiers gathered at the ring and took turns sparring, with side bets being placed here and there on winners and losers.

Iona and Leo had been keyed in earlier that week by Heston that the King was considering engaging against the Ladrons, and since Theron’s previous High Commander had stepped down a couple years prior, it was clear that he would need to name a replacement as soon as possible. Iona and Leo had been jockeying for the position and were the obvious frontrunners. When it was Leo’s turn in the ring, he scratched his chin and eyed the crowd, as if there was even a chance he’d pick someone other than Iona.

“I choose…” he started, swinging around to point at Iona, “My sister’s lackey.” Idiot, she thought, as she ducked under the ropes. Iona readied herself for the match, while Leo made a proposition, “Let’s make this one count. Winner gets High Command.” He raised his knuckles, sweat forming on his brow. It was the dead of summer, and all the soldiers donned their lightest training clothes but the heat cooked right through them.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Iona replied, rolling her eyes. She pushed up the sleeves of her shirt and shook out her arms, as Leo bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

She knew that this spar had no impact on King Theron’s decision, but it was the principal of the thing. Leo had long been a thorn in her side, and it was time to put him down once and for all. Iona sharpened her stance, unlocked her knees, and put up her fists, “Deal.” With a nod, the fight was on.

A flurry of jabs, punches, hooks, and backhands commenced. Iona stayed in the kitchen, as close as possible to Leo’s body, since his height was such an advantage if she gave him space. Her right uppercut landed with power, but Leo returned with an even more forceful knee, followed by a shooting front kick, sending her careening into the ropes. Shouts and jeers from the crowd of their fellow soldiers filled the air, as if they were enjoying a show on stage.

For nearly five minutes, the training partners exhibited a range of combat techniques, putting on a clinic for everyone watching. They were so equally matched, the fight was more about who had the endurance to outlast the other rather than the brute force.

Iona’s breaths were as heavy as lead, her eyebrow split from an elbow Leo had thrown. Leo’s lip was swelling, bruised purple, and bleeding. The men surrounding the ring had quieted, rapped by the fight in front of them, until a young recruit shouted something about Heston coming out from the palace. Leo turned his head in response, and Iona took advantage. She dropped to her feet and threw out a sweeping kick, sending Leo crashing to the canvas. Iona jumped atop him, threw a hand on his neck and cocked her fist back for a final punch. But she held it in the air, dangling in front of Leo’s face just to rub it in- she’d won.

“Don’t get distracted so easily,” she chided, standing up and offering her hand out to a defeated Leo. Rebuffing her help, he pushed himself up off the ring without a word. “Such a sore loser, little prince,” she snapped at him.

“That was a cheap shot, and you know it,” he griped. Before she could respond, Heston was calling Leo to get out of the ring and follow him.

Over thirty years later, here Iona was in that very same ring, remembering the scene like it was yesterday. She could still feel the wave of superiority that flowed through her, victory over Leo secured. She could see him ducking under the ropes and jumping down from the ring after Heston, neither of them prepared for the news they’d shortly receive of Elia’s murder.

Iona took a deep breath as she realized just how much time she’d wasted standing in the ring, bound by her memories. They were everywhere in the palace, waiting for her at every turn like animal traps littered through the hallways, the meeting rooms, the courtyards, itching to ensnare her. Lowering herself back to the ground, Iona wondered if maybe this return to the capital city was a necessary evil for her to get some much needed closure. The closure that she craved inside and maybe even deserved.