Page 65 of The Rose in the Shadows

Kent, ever the mediator, was quick to notice the fear etched on my face and stepped close.

“Clay, don’t you think that might be pushing her too fast?” He asked, his voice soft and reasonable.

“I don’t recall asking for guidance from my subjects!” Clay barked, looking so much like his father that I shivered. What had gotten into him today? This anger couldn’t all be from my sneaking out of the castle.

I didn’t have time to ponder on it long though before his eyes were on mine again and my stomach was flipping in a nervous rush.

“What do you say, Princess?”

I felt the weight of all six sets of eyes bearing down on me. What did I say? No. I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t ready, and I knew deep down that if I said those words, he would let me decline. He would respect that.

And yet even as I opened my mouth to protest, the Mark on my chest warmed all too suddenly, as if the blood of Hyrax within me was all too unwilling to turn down this challenge. It was reckless to agree. I was wholly unprepared, after all.

But I was not created to back down.

With a fiercely determined tilt of my head, I spun on my heels without another word and walked to the sparring arena.

“Not so fast,” Clay growled, reaching out and grabbing my arm. I barely had time to register what was in his hand before he stabbed the syringe into the sensitive flesh inside my elbow and injected me.

“What in all of creation was that?” I cried, ripping my arm out of his grasp.

“Mortal blood,” he explained, tossing the syringe to Rankor, who caught it with a single hand. “If you’re going to be tested without powers, then you’ll train without them.”

I bit down on my lip and the sudden urge to release a few choice words that weren’t appropriate to say to your Crown Prince. Holding those in, I ripped my arm from his grasp andcontinued forward. If Clayton had wanted to piss me off, he could consider the mission accomplished.

I no longer cared if I was ridiculously out of my depth. If this man wanted to fight me, I would give it my all. I would fight hard and dirty if that’s what it took to prove that the House of Hyrax was alive and prospering.

The effects of the mortal blood were instant. It was as if I could feel that power humming and grasping for me, but I couldn’t quite take hold of it.

“Don’t mess up my face,” I demanded through my teeth as we took our stances.

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, and his golden eyes flickered momentarily before he shook his head and smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it. It is ratherexquisiteafter all.”

I was going to hurt him.

Before this was over, he was probably going to kick my ass, but at least once I was going to hurt him. That was a vow I could make to myself.

We circled for a while, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Rankor had instructed me to always play defensive at first, to wait for my opponent to strike first and use that as an opportunity to identify their weaknesses. So, I waited patiently for him to attack.

I was shorter than Clay and overall weaker, so as Rankor mentioned earlier, I needed to be faster. I also had the luxury of knowing Clay. Sometimes I felt like I knew him better than most. I knew that based on the shade of his eyes, the tension in his jaw, and the way his veins flickered black every so often that he was angry. So it was just a matter of time before his inner dragon got the best of him. That beast would draw him to take the first swing.

And maybe he would leave himself open. If I could be fast enough, I could land a hit.

So I waited, and sure enough, I saw his right-hand flex.

He punched out, and I spun to my right, kicking up my leg and drawing it down against his back in a move Rankor had taught me only moments ago. My teacher cried out happily from below us, but my attention was entirely focused on Clay.

He flinched for a minute before stepping back and punching out again. His left hand flexed, and I anticipated the jab as I did before. I raised my left arm to block, but he ducked below and swiped my gut. The pain was sharp, knocking my breath, and I huddled over, desperate to regain the air in my lungs.

Dear Gods, he was strong.

And he was not holding back.

“Clay,” Iris warned from below, voice thick with concern while I contemplated the possibility if he had just broken my rib.

“Stop being so focused on my fingers,” he said, voice low and meant only for me. “You’re being obvious with where your attention is, making it too easy to psych you out.”

He leaned down to where I hunched over as he lectured me, but my mind was only half listening to him and half preparing for my next attack. Struggling through the pain in my stomach, I gripped his shoulders and pushed his frame down to meet my rising knee before slinging that same leg behind his and kicking his feet out from under him. He fell forward, and the sound splintered throughout the room. The others gasped.

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