The Monarch | ✓

Chapter I

Now

The sword was an inch away from piercing the skin on Malia's throat.

She contemplated her options, searching for an escape, but the arms behind her were ironclad. She resisted asking for mercy, so she stood in place, still as a statue. Her captor remained in the same position.

"Try again," Victor suggested, a statement rather than a question.

Isabelle released her grip and moved the sword back to her side before taking a step back. Malia paused for a breath.

"Go easier on her," Victor said to Isabelle.

Isabelle's talent and skill far preceded Malia and all the other Guardians, including Victor. It was an unfair match, but Malia had insisted on having Isabelle as her sparring partner. She wanted to learn from the best.

Isabelle, in the black Guardian uniform she had worn since her 16th birthday, glared back at her in charge.

"They won't be easy on her," Isabelle said, taking a step towards Victor.

They appeared to be the same height, Isabelle standing and Victor leaning on the wooden equipment stand.

Malia considered the they Isabelle mentioned. She didn't know who they might be, but both Isabelle and Victor had been concerned about her safety. When they recommended combat and defence lessons, she was more than happy to oblige. Seeing them practice in the Guard Den while she was in the study taking lessons, or in the auditorium trying to pass time, had only piqued her interest.

Victor used his half-foot taller frame to tower over Isabelle, asserting his dominance. Victor wasn't arrogant, but it took both persistence and patience to wear Isabelle down.

"Isabelle is right," Malia spoke, interrupting their quiet argument. "Should someone invade the castle or try to threaten me, they will be anything but gentle."

Victor sighed and tilted his head, looking back between the two girls, now almost women. He leaned against the wood frame again, throwing his arm around the plank at the top.

"We still need to manage your progress. Otherwise, you will have the same result every time," Victor said to Malia, then turned to Isabelle. "How about taking it slower? So Malia can track your movements."

Isabelle stood, annoyed.

"How about I try this time?"

He held his hand out, and Isabelle placed the body of the sword in his palm. A sword that once belonged to him.

Once a Guardian had mastered the craft of combat, as deemed by the instructor, the sword was passed to their protégé. Isabelle had insisted on having the best instructor, a title that was once held by her father.

Isabelle had climbed to the top, despite being the sole female in the armed guard. Her father never reached the esteemed post of Commander, one that he had been deserving of. It was rumoured that the King would have announced him the new Commander, had they both not perished.

Malia had silently vowed to give Isabelle the post when she became of age.

Isabelle took Victor's spot next to the stand of swords. Instead of leaning, she stood like a tower, brandishing another sword in her hand.

Malia watched her pace and swirl the sword around her wrist with ease. She ended with a subtle flourish. Malia tried to trace Isabelle's movements with the chance of following her steps. She resisted paying heed to the logical part of her mind that knew Isabelle moved much too fast.

Victor took his stance in front of Malia, shifting her attention from Isabelle. He started speaking but Malia was half-listening. Watching Isabelle practice had always been entrancing to her. The orange and yellow hues from the setting sun behind the trees made her sword shine from the glare. The colours were a stark contrast to her black uniform.

"Princess Malia?" Victor asked, finally getting her full attention.

"I told you never to call me that." Malia looked him in the eye.

Victor tried to hide his smile by curling the edge of his mouth. He bit on his lip and looked down at her.

"Let's begin," Victor said, resuming his position.

Malia mirrored his stance, looking at the way he held his sword in his dominant hand, his feet shifted shoulder width apart, one foot ahead of the other, and knees slightly bent.

After Malia assumed her position, Victor nodded his head.

"Princess Malia!" A voice called from outside the Guard Den, from the direction of the castle entrance.

Malia straightened her posture, smoothing out her shirt and her pants before her Maiden arrived. Isabelle continued with her practice.

"Princess Malia, The Council has asked for your presence in the Council Room. They have assembled," her Maiden, Beatrice spoke from a distance. She was not willing to cross Isabelle.

Malia knew that she was neither late nor had missed a meeting. If The Council had requested her presence, it could only be for an urgent matter.

Malia nodded at Beatrice, who took one hesitant glance at Isabelle and walked back toward the castle. Malia removed her gloves and placed the sword back on the stand. Victor put his sword back into the hold at his side, as did Isabelle.

Wordlessly, they followed her back into the castle.