Iona awoke to a few gentle knocks on her door from Poppy, who kindly agreed to be her alarm every morning so she could be up early enough to train. But laying there, the sun still hidden under the horizon, Iona was regretting her mental commitment to start each day in the ring. She could just as easily stay curled up in bed, her hands closing into fists around the soft sheets beneath her at the thought. Maybe just this morning, and then she’d be back to it tomorrow…

But what kind of discipline does the High Commander have if she can’t get out of bed for an early morning session? Iona might not be in the field, her soldiers may not know if she shirked her self-imposed rules, but she would. And she owed them for their dedication with her own.

Ugh, just do it, just get up. Reluctantly, Iona slunk off the bed.

Another note from Espo had been waiting for her when she arose, this time containing news of a small run-in with a couple straggling hostiles just near the border. There was no fighting, her second in command assured her, they simply surrendered their weapons and were taken in for questioning. Iona wondered if the last of the hostiles were still clinging onto whatever magic was conjured during the War to keep their holdout hidden, though it couldn’t be much. Surely, they would find something soon.

The weather was shifting from a crisp breeze to a full on chill, so Iona pulled on a thick knitted coat over her training clothes, grabbed her sword, and trudged to the outer walls. Solo swordplay practice, shadow boxing, and stretching were helping her keep her mind focused on the task at hand during the day- finding Heston the best partner Chrysos had to offer. Maybe it would even be someone he genuinely likes.

It was a shame that the new training ring was built within the confines of the palace walls, though confines was a strong word considering its overwhelming size. Iona arrived at the ring’s edge and climbed up. It was so beautiful out in the expanse. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, satisfying breath, the chill stinging her nose. The sounds of the palace outskirts filled her ears- the sweet song of early rising finches, rustling leaves, crunching grass…

Wait, crunching…were those footsteps? Iona’s concentration broke, swinging around to see an exhausted-looking Leo plodding toward her with a mug in each hand. “Is that coffee? Did you bring coffee for me?”

A grunt was all she got in return, along with the mug. He may have looked grumpy, but he wouldn’t have come out there if he didn’t want to train, too. This was old hat for the two of them, anyways- they had practiced together a thousand times before today.

Without a word, Iona and Leo fell into the usual routine: stretching every muscle with intention from the tips of their fingers down to their feet, shadow boxing, striking techniques, defense techniques, and finally- sparring.

They began with hand to hand combat. Squaring up, Iona thought back on all of their previous sessions, always filled with a competitive tension. Sparring was meant to be a way of learning your opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, as well as your own, and how to fight through fatigue and pain. But there was always an extra layer when it came to Leo and Iona- it wasn’t just about learning, it was about winning. It was about proving who was the stronger fighter, harder worker, and ultimately, the better leader. But that competition had long since been decided. Maybe today, with no audience, in this creaky, familiar boxing ring, they were in a place to simply learn from one another, to improve as training partners and fellow warriors.

A strange thought tugged at the back of Iona’s mind, stealing a bit of her focus- Leo told her in the North Forest that he never wanted to be High Commander. Was that really true? She always saw him as the main hurdle to reaching her goals, and thought he saw her the same way. Iona looked over her fists raised to her eyeline at the man in front of her as they circled the middle of the ring- the small scar on his chin from a particularly nasty uppercut she landed during their first time sparring, the tall frame that she always took as a personal affront to her size. All these years, should she have been…nicer? Was she in the wrong or-

Oh shit.

Leo landed a left hook straight under her ribcage. Iona tried to hold it together, but her knees went out from under her, and she sank to the canvas. He hit her liver square on, and there was no fighting the slow shut down of her body.

“Woo!” Leo cheered, waving his arms over his head and jogging around the edge of the ring. “Take that, High Commander,” he mocked, grinning ear to ear.

I hate you, Iona thought, letting her earlier musings dissolve into thin air. She begrudgingly took his outstretched hand, and braced her hands on her knees, trying to catch up on breath.

“Have any energy left for the next round?” Leo asked, waving his sword back and forth.

“Obviously,” Iona choked out. She walked over to the ring’s edge, and pulled her blade up, laying it flat on the canvas. With the same careful handling as she always used, Iona unsheathed her trusty sword, Yuna. She was a gift from Elia- a parting gift, before she left for Siminy. Iona had gotten particularly attached to one of the practice swords from training, the only one with a slightly curved guard while all the others’ were perfectly straight. She unofficially claimed it for herself; no one else was allowed to train with the sword. She began storing it in her bedroom for safe keeping, and her grip wore into the hilt.

One day, it disappeared overnight off her desk while she was asleep. Iona tore up the palace room-by-room for hours trying to find her beloved practice sword. She grew increasingly upset and frustrated as days passed without finding it, while not a single person seemed to know where it had gone. A week after the sword was swiped from her room, Heston informed Iona that Elia wanted to meet her in the throne room after combat training, which was odd since they normally met for dinner in the evening. But that night, there was Elia, sitting on the steps in front of Theron’s empty throne, just the two of them in the massive hall. Iona’s voice reverberated through the room, “Why are we meeting in here, I want dinner!”

Elia snickered. “Can you just come sit down please?” she asked, patting the floor next to her.

Iona plopped down close to her friend, “Fine, fine,” she sighed, “Let’s hear it!”

Like ripping the bandage off a wound, Elia declared, “I’m engaged. I leave for Siminy in ten days.”

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Iona’s chest tightened at the words. She knew this day would come eventually, but…this was still too soon. “Siminy? So you really are marrying Prince Maselle?” Iona responded, her heart swirling a heavy, sinking feeling at the idea of Elia leaving. Her eyes welled with tears, but she threw her arms around Elia, “I’m…happy for you. If you’re happy- you’re happy, right?” Iona leaned back, gripping Elia’s shoulders and staring at her like she could maybe read her friend’s mind. She needed to make sure this was something she wanted. Not that either of them had any say in the matter.

Elia’s eyes were teary, too, and Iona could practically see her own reflection in her friend’s glassy, emerald gaze. “I’m happy, I think. Siminy isn’t too far, right? And Prince Maselle is so kind. He’ll be a great king…and guess what?”

Iona could only raise her eyebrows in response, words escaping her.

“In Siminy, the queen has her own coronation, and throne, and power. Isn’t that wonderful?” Elia asked, a small crack in her voice as though she was trying to convince herself to be excited, rather than Iona.

In most kingdoms, including Chrysos, “queen” was a title, but the position was only as important as the king allowed. Queens weren’t coronated, they had no throne or crown, and the king could include her in decision making or not, as he chose. “That’s great, Elia, really,” Iona muttered, “Queen Elia. It has a nice ring to it.” The friends exchanged smiles loaded with the sadness of a changing reality bearing down on them.

But Elia’s uneasy smile was replaced with a look of despair that pained Iona deep in her core. “I don’t know if I can do this by myself,” she lamented, tears now streaming down her face freely. Iona reached her arm around Elia’s shoulders and tugged her close. Since they’d met all those years ago, Iona considered herself Elia’s protector, the person she could always rely on to have her back. But sitting in this monstrous, empty throne room, the walls closing in on them, there was nothing she could do to stop Elia from leaving. “What am I supposed to do without you around?” she whispered.

“You’re going to be just fine, I swear. And we’ll spend every day together until you leave, I’ll skip training and everything- maybe we can ride to the next town for a day, do a little exploring,” Iona offered.

Elia looked down at her lap where her hands sat, picking at her nails. “I wish you could just come with me.”

Iona opened her mouth to offer reassurance, but stopped and thought for a moment- why not go with her? Sure, she wanted to be High Commander one day, but Elia needed her. Her chosen sister needed her. That was more important than any lofty dream of Iona’s, wasn’t it? “Well then I’ll go with you,” she resolved.

Elia slipped out from under her arm and faced Iona. “I wasn’t being serious. Look how far you’ve made it in training, and your parents are here. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking- I’m offering. I can always rise through the ranks of Siminy’s army, too, right? And work in tandem with Chrysos. I did it once, here, I can do it again. Especially with you as queen. Just like we planned when we were kids.”

Elia’s teary eyes dried up as she broke out into a real smile, reaching ear to ear, “You’re serious? You would come to Siminy with me?” Iona responded with her own grin and cheery nod. A sharp, excited squeal erupted from Elia, who wrapped Iona in a warm embrace.

“You’re my best friend; I’m always going to look out for you,” Iona assured her, holding onto Elia like if she let go, she’d be snatched away to Siminy right that second.

“Promise?” Elia asked.

“Promise.” The only reason Iona ever felt comfortable in this palace, the only reason she ever had the confidence to work towards the goal of High Command from the beginning was about to up and move to another kingdom. Elia needed her in Siminy, so that was where Iona would go.

“Well, I got you something as a going away present, but now I guess it can just be a thank you present,” Elia said, jumping up and shuffling to the throne. She picked up a long, thin ivory colored box sitting off to the side and brought it down to the step where Iona sat waiting. “Here, this is for you.”

Iona lifted the lid of the box to reveal a stunning, deep red and gold scabbard, intricately engraved with winding green vines and dozens of moon drops. She lifted it out of the box, and wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword inside. Unsheathing the blade, it felt somehow both incredibly familiar and brand new to Iona. The weight was perfectly balanced, and the hilt seemed made for her hand alone. She was at a loss for words.

“I had your practice sword reforged- I’m sorry I took it without telling you, I wanted it to be a surprise,” Elia admitted. “Do you like it?”

Iona burst into tears- what had she done in her life to deserve such a thoughtful, loving friend? “Of course, it’s perfect,” she blubbered.

“You have to name it,” Elia gushed.

Iona held the stunning, bespoke sword in front of her and pondered for a moment. “Well, you gave it to me so…I think I’ll name her…Yuna. It means ‘sister’ in the old language of the land.” she grinned.

Elia stuck out her bottom lip and cocked her head to the side, “Aww, Iona,” she said, tears returning to her eyes. It was settled then, Iona would be going with her best friend to Siminy. In her mind, she owed it to Elia, and honestly, Iona wasn’t quite sure how to survive in this kingdom without her anyway.

Yet here she was, over thirty years later, standing in the same ring she used to train at every day, holding the sword Elia had gifted her that night. But there was no Elia anymore.

“Hello, Iona?!” Leo’s voice interjected, ripping her back from her spiraling memory. Iona shook her head. “Are we stopping now or what?”

“Yeah, umm, maybe we can just pick up on fencing tomorrow.” Iona realized she was still sitting on her knees at the edge of the ring, staring at her sword.

“Fine, fine. It’ll give you a day to take Yuna to the blacksmith, anyways. When’s the last time you had her cleaned? And sharpened?” he quizzed, looking over Iona’s shoulder at the blade.

“It’s been a while…” she confessed, “Back off. I don’t want them to fuck her up!”

“They forged your sword, Iona, I think they can handle sharpening and shining it.”

Iona’s face twisted a bit, knowing that Leo was right. Yuna could use some extra care. She sheathed the sword, and picked up her bag to head to the palace. Leo did the same, and they both hopped down from the ring. “I was thinking, after the ball, you should take a break. Take a trip or something,” he said as they walked back toward the palace wall.

“A trip?” Iona asked like she’d never heard the word.

“Yeah, a trip. Go visit Adina for a while, or take your mom sailing, or…I dunno, spend a few weeks with Desmond somewhere.”

“There’s still a lot to do with the rebuilds. And we haven’t found the final hostile outpost, and once Heston is engaged, we’ll need to figure out his wedding and coronation, and-”

“Iona, stop,” Leo cut her off. He halted in place and turned to look at her. “You’ve done enough to at least have some time off. Anything that comes up, Heston and I can handle, okay? Just think about it.”

Iona mustered a small, non-committal smile and nodded. It was unlike Leo to suggest something so thoughtful, and of course he and Heston could handle whatever came up. But he just didn’t understand. This was her job, her duty as High Commander. She started walking once again without a response, though in the back of her mind, Iona felt a spark of gratitude for Leo’s offer.