The minister had tried to entertain them, in all the ways he expected young women would like to be entertained. He sent dressmakers and hairdressers and arranged teas and puppeteers. Moria had no interest in dresses or hair or tea or puppets. Ashyn was more inclined to enjoy them, but even she could not while the children of Edgewood were held captive. They'd spent their days in the library and the gardens, in the temple and the training grounds, and they'd listened to whispers that the Keeper and Seeker of Edgewood were very odd girls, uncultured, perhaps slow-witted, which was not surprising, given that they were Northerners.
That afternoon, Moria sparred with Tyrus. The court Seeker--Ellyn--had tried to stop the lessons, because Moria wasn't allowed to carry a sword until her eighteenth summer. Others seemed more concerned about Tyrus, who was learning dagger throwing from Moria in return. Warrior daggers were considered more tools than weapons. To Tyrus, though, any battlefield skill was useful.
As for the swords, someone--she hated to name him--had told Moria that she would never be able to wield one as well as a male warrior. She was determined to prove him wrong. At first, that task had seemed more daunting than she expected. The typical warrior's sword was a long, slightly curved, single-edged blade. But there were other types, and Tyrus had called in the imperial swordsmith to help. They had decided Moria would be best served with a side sword. It was a shorter blade, sometimes worn instead of the dagger, generally used as an auxiliary sword for close-quarter fighting. It was also used for beheading an enemy, which meant that the blade was as sharp and as strong as any other.
That day, Moria did not practice battle decapitation, Tyrus having drawn the line at offering himself up for that. They sparred while Daigo lounged, dozing. For Moria it was a full workout, leaving her drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Tyrus didn't even get warm enough to remove his tunic, which was a shame, though the lack of visual distraction did help her accuracy with the blade.
"You need to work on your stamina," Tyrus said when they finished. "Are you running twice a day?"
She nodded, struggling for breath. "You said twice around the court wall, but I've been doing it thrice. I think I need more."
"Three times around, thrice a day. We're going to skip lessons for a few days and work on continuous practice bouts to build your stamina and your spirit and improve your attention. You need more of that. Much more."
Tyrus went on to list everything she'd done wrong. He offered no praise. Once, when Ashyn came to watch, she'd been appalled and shocked that the affable young prince could be so harsh a teacher. Ashyn had been quick to tell Moria she was doing very well. "Yes, she is," Tyrus had said. "For an untrained girl. But she wants to do well for a warrior." Ashyn had stayed away after that, and Moria was glad of it. Tyrus had promised to teach her as a warrior, not as a girl trying to play at being a warrior. She did not need her sister defending her from the sidelines.
Once the lesson ended, Tyrus shed that taskmaster guise as he shed his practice tunic. Moria watched. It was a very pleasant sight. He was lean-muscled, sweat making his golden skin shimmer. He wore an amulet band intricately tied around his left biceps. It was red silk, with tasseled ends, the band embroidered with his name and sewn with a tiny protection scroll inside. An old custom, amulet bands had largely fallen out of favor, but his mother had given it to him and he wore it for her.
Tyrus pulled on a clean shirt, caught her hand, and whispered, "Come. I've something to show you."
His dark eyes danced, and the smile on his lips promised a passionate tryst in some shadowy corner. Moria knew what that meant--they were being watched. Sure enough, two serving girls were strolling past, feigning no interest in the young prince, which was as good a sign as any that they were spies from one of his brothers.
Despite the attention Tyrus paid her, he showed no interest in more than platonic companionship. She'd wondered at first if he preferred men, but she'd heard enough stories to know that wasn't the case. It seemed that many foreign princesses and diplomats' daughters received real invitations to shadowy corners.
The disappointing truth was that Tyrus did not fancy her. Some men found Northern looks unattractive. More likely, though, given his taste for highborn ladies, it was Moria herself that didn't ignite those fires. As a companion, she was ideal. As a bedmate, he'd likely prefer a more feminine representative of her sex. She could not blame him. One's taste was one's taste, and it was merely unfortunate that hers ran to handsome warriors when she was surrounded by pretty courtier boys whose gazes said they'd happily keep her from growing bored in her confinement.
"Come?" he said, his brows arching, grin growing. He took her hand and tugged it. "I've someplace to show you."
"I bet you do," she said. "Is it dark?"
"Possibly."
"Private?"
"Probably."
She laughed. "I think you've taken me there before."
"No, not this one. Come."
"But . . ." Moria motioned toward the two serving girls, now on a bench, one subtly watching.
He leaned in and whispered loudly. "They aren't looking. Now come. Quickly."
They scampered off, whispering and laughing, as the spies headed back to the palace with their report. Tyrus took her past the Chancery for Medicines, and then into the Grove of Pines. He led her through to the palace wall at the far side.
"Can you climb?" he asked, pointing to a generously branched pine.
She nodded.
While she easily scaled the tree, he had a little more trouble. There were situations in which having a long blade hanging at your side was problematic. She remembered in the Wastes, when she'd broken into a run upon seeing Fairview ahead, and she'd laughed at--
Moria banished the memory. She'd not recall any that included him. The point was that a warrior's blade could hinder running or climbing, yet as long as a warrior remained upright, his weapons stayed at his side or in his hand. There were no other choices.
Once up the tree, Tyrus pointed to the wall and said, "Can you jump?"
"Into the palace yard?"
He nodded.