Peony's Blade

Chapter 10

Accommodating Blade was a much simpler task than Serielle had anticipated. Within three days, Blade had been integrated as Serielle’s personal guard and all the paperwork had been properly handled. Rejin might have been a lying snake, but he was efficient in his role as the general, much to Serielle’s chagrin.

Blade had also settled into his role quite easily, though that was to be expected. Serielle arranged for his chambers to be separated from the other guards but still within the compounds of her personal quarters.

Today, she wanted to make one last arrangement to give Blade what he needed to complete his mission. As she made her way to the guardhouse stationed near her quarters, Blade remained a silent shadow behind her. He was an imposing figure with a powerful presence that engulfed Serielle’s senses. With every step she took, she was aware of the shadows hiding within him. The throbbing in her thigh had ceased, but it tingled as though it remembered who had created its mark.

They made it to the entrance where a guard was already waiting for them. When he saw Serielle, he bowed. The red tassels on his hat fell forward and swung with his motion.

“Your Highness,” he greeted.

“Have you arranged the men I requested?” Serielle asked.

“Yes, Princess. Right this way.”

He straightened his posture and turned with a purpose. Serielle followed him through the open gate towards a line of soldiers who stood waiting for her.

“The men stationed at the Red Court, as you requested,” the guard said. He fell in line with the others and lowered his head in respect.

Serielle turned her head slightly to her right, where Blade stood behind her. Understanding her cue, he stepped forward until he was beside her.

“These are the men responsible for keeping me and Prince Deru safe. You may command them as you see fit to ensure our safety.”

Blade peeled back his lips into a sardonic smile. “You’re giving me command over your men?”

“Only in regards to the matter of our safety,” Serielle emphasised. “As my personal guard, your orders are only second to mine.”

“In that case, continue as you were,” Blade ordered the men.

“Sir!” the guards responded in unison. With another bow, they scattered to their original posts, leaving Serielle and Blade in the middle of an empty training ground.

Serielle turned to Blade, her lips tugged into a frown. “You’ll need their help to catch the Viper. Are there no tasks they can assist you with?”

“On the contrary, your Highness,” Blade retorted, “They’ll only get in my way.”

Serielle let out a long, slow breath, though she was tempted to sigh. Blade was still in his black clothing, which wasn’t a particular issue as it was a common colour worn by bodyguards. However, the sword that typically adorned their hips was missing.

“You’ll also need a proper weapon,” Serielle said, choosing to ignore his dismissal of the guards. She supposed there wasn’t much they could do at such an early stage of Blade’s employment. “I’ll see if I can find a suitable sword for you to use.”

“No need,” Blade interjected. “I already have weapons of my own.”

Serielle squashed the anger rising in her chest but her words still came out sharp. “You refuse my men, you refuse my weapon. If I find that you don’t take advantage of what I have to offer and choose to kill, I will have you flayed. Don’t make a habit of refusing me.”

His lips quirked into an amused smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Narrowing her eyes, Serielle said nothing more. The guards were out of earshot, but there was no knowing when someone would walk into their conversation. Leaving the guardhouse behind, she made her way across the courtyard of her residence.

The Red Court was one of four residences housing the king’s wives and children. It had been Serielle’s only home, yet amidst the beauty of the pond and the garden and the bustling of servants, there was an emptiness she could never fill. The friends she once had were memories buried deep in the past. Life at the palace stifled friendships, and Serielle's longing for a deeper connection had been cut away from her the moment she was old enough to understand her duties. Tuli had been the only one who managed to form an unlikely friendship with Serielle and Deru despite being a lesser noble.

After his death, Deru was the only person she could trust now. Her heart ached at the thought of him. Her mission to hire Blade had been a decent distraction from the loss, but during quiet moments like these, the reality of his death crept in like poison dipped in water.

Burying the grief, Serielle was just about to enter the building when a familiar voice called out to her.

“Seri!” Deru was already waving to get her attention. He walked quickly towards her with a big goofy smile and most importantly no sign of injury. His robes were a blur of blue, and in his hand he held a tattered old book. After skipping out on his lessons thanks to the attack, he had been hounded by his teachers to make up for lost time.

“Deru,” Serielle greeted. “What are you doing here? I thought you were attending lessons.”

Deru grimaced then waved his hand in dismissal. “Bah. Falan can berate me all he likes. I needed to get out of there, dear sister. That man invented boredom with his lessons, I swear to you.”

Serielle let a smile slip through in place of the laughter she would have provided had they been alone. Blade was watching them like a hawk and she still didn’t trust him enough to let her guard down. “You’ll regret it, Deru. He’s a persistent man. It won’t do you any good to avoid him like this.”

“Time will come to deal with that.” Deru noticed Blade and raised a brow. “Now who’s this, Seri? He doesn’t seem to be a royal guard or a servant. Are we letting in strays now?”

Serielle shook her head. “Deru, this is Lupi. I’ve hired him as an extra layer of protection. After what happened, I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

Deru gave Blade a once over with a doubtful frown. “You really didn’t have to. If you were that anxious, you could have had more guards posted here and double our patrol. I don’t see how one outsider will make a difference.”

There he went making her feel small again, treating her as if she was incapable of making the right decisions. And in front of Blade, no less. The irritation was beginning to seep in.

“He’s going to be our personal guard,” Serielle explained. “He’s a skilled fighter who can focus on keeping us safe. He’s better trained than most of the men we have guarding our grounds. Really, Deru, after you almost died, shouldn’t you be more anxious about this?”

Deru let out an exaggerated sigh. “You worry too much, Seri.”

“And you worry too little. When are you ever going to take things seriously?”

Ignoring her question, he fixed his attention on Blade. “Lupi, was it?”

Blade lowered his head in respect but still stood a head taller than Deru. Serielle hadn’t registered how large he was until now. She thought back to the danger she’d been in when she sought him out and swallowed. She had known the risk at the time, but it was only now that it fully dawned on her how terribly helpless she would have been had he chosen to harm her. Rejin had been right to worry about her.

“Yes, your Highness.”

Deru clapped a hand over Blade’s shoulder, unfazed by the difference in their height. “I can see that you are indeed a capable fighter. Spar with me one of these days. I’d like to test your strength.”

“It would be an honour,” Blade responded.

“Prince Deru!” A rather rotund old man shouted from the other side of the courtyard. He stormed over, waving his arm in the air. “There you are! I’ve been waiting for you all morning!”

“And there is my cue to leave,” Deru said. He patted Blade’s shoulder. “I’ll let you know when I have the time. In the meantime, take good care of my sister.”

“Of course.”

“Catch you later, Seri. I’m suddenly in need of the toilet. Must have been the egg rolls, dear me.”

“Prince Deru!” The poor old man was completely out of breath by the time he reached them, and Deru had already escaped.

“You have your work cut out for you, Falan,” Serielle said.

Falan, still out of breath and red in the face, took a moment to pay his respects, though his true intentions were to rest before he resumed his exhausting chase.

“Your Highness,” he gasped out in greeting. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and his head was still lowered. Only when Serielle dismissed him would he be allowed to take his leave.

Serielle continued their conversation. “Why don’t you take the day off? It seems my brother is still recovering from his wounds.”

“But, your Highness!” Falan exclaimed. “The prince is already behind. At this rate, he won’t master the Martial Doctrines before the coronation.”

A bird trilled in the distance. The Martial Doctrines were an integral part of Paeonia’s military, focusing on the political history between Paeonia and its surrounding kingdoms. Alliances, wars, strategies were all covered in the Doctrines, providing the ruler with sufficient information to make decisions that could save or strengthen the country. It was a grueling class despite its importance that could take years to learn.

In fact, Serielle herself was not looking forward to her own lesson scheduled for later in the week. She was tempted to pull out since Deru was the most likely heir, but should anything happen to him, there was a good chance the crown would pass to her.

“Has His Majesty announced the date of the coronation yet?” Serielle questioned.

Falan tensed. His white robe fluttered widely against the chilly winter breeze. “No, Princess.”

“Then there is no deadline for Deru to master the Doctrines. Give him the day off. He can join me in our next lesson.”

Falan’s eyes darted to the side. His bow deepened. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

“And why is that?”

There was a strained pause as the teacher fiddled with his sleeves. He squirmed, reminding Serielle of a caged rabbit.

“Well?” she prodded.

Letting out a sigh, Falan slumped his shoulders. “Prince Deru is still many chapters behind.”

Serielle frowned. The teacher’s apprehension now made sense. It wasn’t impossible for a prince or princess to become ruler without mastering the Doctrines since the court was filled with advisors far more knowledgeable, but the ruler’s ignorance reflected his teacher’s failure to educate him. The lightest punishment was expulsion from the palace.

Deru should have known this. Not only that, but he would have started learning the Doctrines much earlier than Serielle. How had she already surpassed his progress? Just how many lessons had he skipped? He was smart enough to master the Doctrines within a year if he tried. If Serielle was half way through, Deru should have finished it by now.

“I see,” Serielle said. “Reschedule the lesson for tomorrow. He should be able to attend with a clear head by then. He’ll catch up to me in no time.”

Falan bowed, but Serielle caught the doubtful look on his face. “Yes, your Highness.”

“You are dismissed.”

The teacher was quick to scurry away, much like the rabbit that escaped its cage. Serielle sighed. She was going to have to speak to Deru about this matter. It truly was a shame. With all of his talents, Deru would become an excellent ruler if only he wasn’t so carefree.

A chilly breeze rustled through the trees and painted her cheeks red. Serielle found herself shivering despite her best efforts to stop it.

“It’s cold, Princess.” Blade’s deep voice startled Serielle out of her thoughts. She’d completely forgotten he was even there, and she wished she hadn’t let that sigh loose. “We should go inside.”

Serielle pulled her shoulders back, reining in the shivers as much as she could. “Where I go is my decision to make.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, you hired me to protect you. The cold makes you sick and sickness can get you killed. Now, let me do my damned job and get you inside where you won’t freeze to death.”

Never in Serielle’s life had anyone had the gall to speak to her like that. She whirled around, her temper flaring like a raging furnace.

“You dare speak to me with such disrespect?”

Blade was calm, his eyes steadily meeting hers. “I speak to you as I speak to all my clients. But if you wish to punish me for it, I won’t protest. After all,” he held out his hand, wherein a faint shadow formed. The mark on Serielle’s thigh tingled, the skin suddenly pulling taut as if someone was stretching it out. “I belong to you. I might not have a choice in following your orders, but I won’t grovel at your feet.”

“And if I order you to speak to me formally?”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Then that is the order I shall follow, your Highness.” He dropped his gaze to emphasise his fealty.

Serielle clenched her hands into fists. He was testing her, gauging her reactions…looking for a weakness. The raging fire within her continued to blaze. She had fallen into the trap he’d set for her, shown him what got under her skin. It was a mistake she couldn’t let happen again.

Calming her breaths, she turned around. “You will speak to me and treat me as a princess and you will follow the formalities of the palace.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“And for how you spoke to me, your punishment is to sleep in the storage shed tonight.”

Punishment for disrespecting a royal was typically expulsion or, in some cases, imprisonment, but Serielle couldn’t publicise his offense within a day of allowing him into the palace. Spending a night in a wooden shed in the middle of winter should teach him not to test her. Going forward, she would have to be more creative to punish Blade should he step out of line again.

“Understood,” he agreed without a hint of remorse or displeasure.

She had a feeling he was going to be riding that line very closely for quite a while.