He swung his sword again and again, but it didn’t make him feel any better, any stronger.
“Sire,” a gruff voice called through his haze.
He stopped abruptly and turned to see the crowd he’d drawn. How long had he been at it?
The man who’d spoken was a member of Alex’s guard but he didn’t know him well. Simon. Yes, that was his name. He was an older fellow who barely spoke.
“What?” he asked more harshly than he’d intended. The onlookers didn’t bow to him as decorum demanded. He got a few nods, but for the first time in months, he didn’t feel like the king. He didn’t feel like he was above them. On the battlefield, everyone was an equal and in the training yard, it was the same.
Respect there wasn’t given based on the nature of one’s birth. It was earned with the sword in your hand.
Si
