Page 76 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

Then Rahk pivots, prying Alsbee’s arm loose of his neck and swiveling. I cannot even follow what happens, but one minute Alsbee is hanging from his back, and the next he is flat on the ground, Rahk’s foot planted on his sternum.

I blush furiously.

“Now youmustshow us that one too!” cries Oliver.

One by one, all the young men want to challenge the prince. I don’t know how their dignity allows them to be so competitive. The prince is half a head taller than the tallest of them all, otherworldly with his silvery-white hair, pointed ears, and exquisite beauty. Everything about him screamswarrior, and I feel a flutter of something that should be fear, but isn’t. The longer I watch, the more I see that he’s actually holding himself back to make it seem like he is only winning by a margin.

After all the young men have been thoroughly trounced, they pepper Rahk with questions and beg him to demonstrate his unusual techniques to them. A few of them have bruised egos and slink off to pout elsewhere—Alsbee being one of them—but most of them seem like good sports, and eagerly accept instruction, asking questions and watching as the prince demonstrates.

“So, what is it like being a servant for a fae?”

I startle out of my shoes—not having noticed someone sidling up to me.Lord Boreham. I swear under my breath, tensing to run. Honestly, I don’t even know why he’s here, because his fine doublet and velvet pants suggest he isn’t here to join the others.

I step to one side, putting distance between us and keeping my face downcast.Please don’t recognize me.I pretend I didn’t hear him.

“Will a little coin loosen your tongue?” Boreham presses, smiling like a cat in my periphery. “I understand. Money is hard to come by. Especially for one in your station.”

I bristle, even while relief nearly makes my shoulders sag.He doesn’t recognize me.

“Nat.”

The prince’s voice makes me flinch. He’s standing right in front of me, and I didn’t even notice his approach.So observant, Kat.Quit losing your wits!

“Master,” I croak. It takes me a second to drag my gaze all the way up to his face. Several long strands of his hair have come free, and they blow lightly around his face in the spring breeze.

There is something almost electrifying about watching someone best over a dozen men in their prime . . . and then shift their focus to you.

I’ve outsmarted him twice now,I think with a plume of satisfaction unfurling in my belly.Thrice, if counting the disguise.

“Would you like a turn?” Rahk asks.

I stare blankly at him. A turn for what? A turn for—

Oh.

He means . . . he means . . .

“Definitely not,” I blurt.

He smirks. “You said you wanted to go to war. You’ll need a few skills to stay alive.”

Lord Boreham has vanished, almost as if he was never here. I lick my dry lips, setting my brow in a stubborn line.

So Rahk insists, “You say you want to help take the burden off your sister. If you could defend yourself—and her, even—that would be a great peace of mind to her.”

I scowl at him. I don’t want to go to that pit and have all those eyes on me as I fumble around over some fighting techniques. I have nimble feet and I’m strong for my size, but my advantage as the Ivy Mask comes from avoiding confrontations that could get me killed. I’m not stupid enough to think I can go against a fae warrior several centuries older than me and escape with my life.

But Nat would want to learn.

So I force myself to follow him.

He offers me a hand into the pit, but I opt for a graceless scramble over the fence instead.

Rahk stands next to me, bracing his feet wide. “It all starts with the feet. Your strength and power come from properly engaging your feet.”

I try to mimic him, my toes splayed on the dirt. He kneels in front of me. I almost take a step back, but his warm hand comes around my ankle, positioning my feet for me.

“Like this,” he says. “See how solid you are now?”

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