William was seated under the shade of a tree, cleaning the blade of his sword with a ragged material. His attention was completely fixed on what he was doing; his gaze hardly faltered.
There were three swords and a dagger on the ground.
He picked them up one by one and cleaned them with zeal; they were the only possession he valued…the only things he could actually lay claim to.
He allowed his hands to trace the edges of the blade; the sunlight reflected on it, casting a blinding refraction.
Like every other morning, Leah knew she would find her brother in the barracks yard, basking under the morning sunlight, while preparing for his training.
"A lovely morning, William."
She purred, calling him by his name; that was odd.
William didn't raise his gaze; he could tell who the owner of the voice was, and he practically ignored her.
Lining up his sword, he scanned them thoroughly before nodding his head in satisfaction.
Leah flexed her fingers, her right hand moving to the ring on her pinky finger. Her hands were concealed with hand gloves, as always.
"There are better ways to pass your message, William; ignoring me isn't one of them."
She stepped in front of him when she saw that he was about to walk away.
"I know why you are here; we are not having this conversation."
He said before shoving her to the side gently, then her brush passed her. With a sword in his grip, he made his way towards one of the training dummies; it was made of wood and straw.
Leah understood his subtle reaction; she would have done the same if she were in his shoes… But the good thing was…she wasn't.
"For how long will you continue to dwell in the dark? Come out of this shell you have decided to reside in; this is not the man I call my brother."
She said softly, trailing him from behind; the purple gown she was wearing grazed the ground and accumulated dust.
William didn't say a word; with the sword in his hand, he lifted his hand in the air, then struck one of the dummies, targeting the neck. His training for the day had begun.
This had become his normal routine for the past few months. When he rose from bed early in the morning, he would skip breakfast and immediately order one of the guards to lay out his best swords.
At first Leah saw it as some middle-life crisis that would be resolved, but she was apparently wrong. With each passing day he grew more attached to his swords, training as though he was preparing for war.
The clang of steel rang through the courtyard, echoing off the stone walls.
William's blade struck the training dummy again and again, splinters flying with every blow. Sweat glistened on his brow, yet his movements remained sharp and controlled—too controlled, as though every strike was meant to cage the storm within him.
"William."
Leah called out, but all she got in return were his loud grunts as he skillfully cut through the training dummies one by one.
"William!
She called out again, this time more firmly, hoping to intimidate him with the tone of her voice, but he paid no heed to her voice.
"Must you always answer me with silence?" She asked from behind, her tone calm but edged with frustration.
He gave no reply.
She was standing at the threshold of the practice yard, her gown brushing the dust, her hands clasped tightly before her.
His blade hissed through the air once more, cutting the straw-stuffed figure clean across the neck. The dummy's head tumbled to the ground.
"You cannot keep doing this to yourself." Her voice softened.
"Give Mother another chance to prove herself."
Silence.
"You cannot run away from this forever; man up and face me, you coward!
When she saw that he was paying no attention to her, she resorted to badmouthing, and it worked.
At last he stopped. His shoulders rose and fell as he caught his breath.
The scar on the left side of his face was still prominent, although it had healed to a large extent, but still couldn't go unnoticed. He wiped his blade with a cloth, his jaw tightening before he spoke.
"I suffer too," he said slowly, eyes still on the fallen dummy.
"But she wouldn't understand that. I am the victim here," he said, his voice raw and low, the sword still gripped tightly in his hand.
"And if you don't see that…" He paused, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he tried to steady his breath. His gaze dropped to the ground, then lifted toward her, eyes burning with hurt more than anger.
"…then perhaps you never will."
He added, Leah opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted…
"You should leave," he said coldly, dropping his sword to the ground with a dull clang. Without glancing at her, he reached for another one from the rack—longer, heavier, his eyes measuring it with scrutiny.
"I will leave when I want to," Leah replied.
"You don't get to order me around like one of your squires," she added, crossing her hands tentatively on her chest.
William turned to face her, his expression unreadable, a shadow crossing his face.
"This isn't a place where noble ladies lurk around," he said.
"Say that to Queen Racheal," she shot back.
"No amount of words will be able to convince me that Mother has changed."
He said, returning his gaze back to the sword in his hand.
"I don't need to say anything; you just have to see things for yourself."
She retorted calmly, her eyes growing distant. He gave no reply.
"She has you fooled; it is just a matter of time. The fake mask she is wearing will fall off."
He said while walking up to the remaining dummies still in their right shape, then began to do justice to them.
Each strike was more fierce than the other; as he practiced vicious combat, his eyes did not for once strain towards his sister, who was apparently babbling from the side.
Leah suddenly became quiet when she saw she was wasting her saliva trying to talk sense into her brother.
"I thought our bond was stronger than this; nowadays you resist me the way I would rebuke any estranged foreigner."
She rattled out, drawing nearer to him.
The sun had slowly risen up and was now blazing in the sky above.
William's toned skin was glistening with sweat, his neck straining with veins as he trained under the sun.
Leah was lurking around the shadows, but when she drew closer to him, he noticed this.
"Step back."
He grunted, using his side eyes to measure her steps; she was getting too close to him and could get injured.
"Since when have I ever listened to a word you say?"
She questioned, ostensibly daring him to do his worst.
"Leah, I have all the answers to your questions, and in due time you will get them. I am trying to concentrate… You are not helping."
He groaned, snapping off the head of one of the training dummies, and then he moved to the next; still, Leah trailed behind him.
"Don't lie to me; this is just one of your tactics for getting rid of me."
She said between gritted teeth.
"Would you rather talk to Mother yourself? Some afternoon tea would be nice."
Her hand went to the pearl necklace on her neck; she caressed it unknowingly while waiting for his reply.
"Leah! Don't be stubborn; get back."
He shrilled, using his last strength to take down the stubborn dummy refusing to bend to his sword.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, is taking down that thing more important than anything I have to say?"
Leah hissed, throwing her hand in the air.
"I will not have tea and break words with the woman who said to my face that she hates me."
Sweat trickled down his face, blurring his vision, but he persisted, unwilling to give in.
"She is your mother!
Leah reminded him.
"She was…not anymore."
He said coldly, without any trace of regret.
Just then William's sword pivoted, flaring in the air uncontrollably towards Leah's direction. Leah saw it coming but wasn't swift enough to dodge it just then…
A harsh clang rang through the yard as the Lord Commander caught the sword mid-swing, his bare palm closing around the sharp edge. The impact jolted through his arm, but he didn't flinch.
Blood trickled down his hand, dark and steady, but his grip did not loosen. William froze, eyes wide in dismay.
The blade trembled between them, halted mere inches from Leah's throat.
"Lord commander."
William called out, flinging his sword aside. When he saw the extent to which the sword had cut through Sir Garren's hand, his brows knitted, his face turning pale.
Sir Garren has been the Lord Commander, taking the lead in all the wars Decreash had encountered in the last ten years. He has been resilient and committed to his job; he was also the one that had taken up William in training.
"Lord commander."
At that very moment, a maid was already making her way towards the barrack's yard with a gourd of water. When she saw what happened, she became alert, turned back to go, and summoned the palace physician.
"Sir Garren, I am deeply sorry."
Leah's voice became hoarse; she inched closer, but William shoved her aside abrasively.
"Your presence has caused enough damage already; do not add to it, just leave."
He said calmly, trying as hard as possible to maintain his cool.
Leah swallowed hard; she opened her mouth to say something, but before she could utter a word.
"I said leave!
William roared with a thunderous voice.
Leah froze. For a moment, remorse in her eyes softened into disbelief, then hardened into something colder. Whatever warmth had lingered there was gone.
Without another word, she turned away. Gathering her gown with both hands, she strode toward the archway, her steps brisk and unsteady all at once.
At that same moment, the maid returned with one of the young physicians in the castle.
The Lord Commander, gravely wounded, was carried to the healer's chamber, where the palace physician tended to him, stitching the wound.
Moments later.
The door to the physician's chamber creaked open, and William stepped inside. The air was thick with the scent of herbs and blood, and the dim light from the open windows cast long shadows across the room.
The Lord Commander was seated upon a narrow cot, his hand bound in fresh linen, the faint traces of blood slipping through.
For a long moment, William said nothing. His gaze lingered on the bandaged palm, a wound earned in the act of saving his sister. Guilt coiled in his chest like a tightening chain.
"How are you feeling?"
He asked, strolling in.
"It's only a small cut; I will be fine."
The lord commander, a man in his late forties with a strict countenance, said, his eyes narrowing to where William stood.
"You look worried."
Garren added, his eyes etched on William's face.
"It could have been Leah seated here; the thought of it…"
He didn't finish his sentence; he didn't dare to. He was forced to remain silent.
"She was giving you a hard time?"
Garren questioned, signaling the physician to take his leave, and without a word he did, closing the door behind him.
"It's the other way round; I was being difficult."
William admitted reclining on a wobbly table, lying at the corner of the room.
Garren exhaled sharply, feeling a sting of pain from the wound in his hand.
"I see difficult men, and you are definitely not one of them, not from my perspective. But you take pleasure in solitude, one of the many features that is…well, devastating."
He said, after clearing his throat. His brows furrowed; apparently, he was in pain.
William took notice of this; he straightened up, turned around, and then tilted his head slightly.
"Get some rest."
He cooed and then began to stroll out of the room.
"You know…for what it is worth, I am proud of you."
His voice reached William's ears, and he halted.
"And I am grateful to you…for believing in me."
He said after a thought, then took his leave.
He made his way to his chamber and was about to nudge the door open… But he paused just as his hand made contact with the knob of the door.
He redrew his hands a bit hesitantly, then retrieved his steps, making his way across the corridors; he diverted, taking a short staircase.
When he caught a glimpse of the door leading to Leah's chamber, he mentally began to prepare himself; at first he was going to scold her.
Afterwards… Well, scolding seemed to be the only thing that came to mind.
He reached the door and raised his hand to place a gentle knock, but at that moment the door swung open, and Leah stepped out, almost bumping into William in the process.
Her face fell when she saw him; William was, however, composed. He leaned on the doorway, his hand crossed behind his back elegantly. With his dark obsidian eyes fixed on her, he muttered,
"We need to talk."