The Fallen Prince

08

Rowan's POV:

Ciaran's eyes nearly bulge out of his skull when I ask if he wants to spar. He tenses and I know that he thinks I am joking.

"Please tell me that you are joking," he begs, but I shake my head. "Uh... I am not confident I can even lift a sword."

"Lucky you," I tell him, whistling and waiting as my horse gallops over to me. I take the thin fencing knives from the pouch on her side. "I was hoping, I uh, I mean I assumed that you would show up, so I brought fencing knives with rubber tips. That way you can work your way up and this won't hurt you."

Gods, why do I have to stutter over my words and sound like a fool whenever I talk to Ciaran? It is pathetic and I have no reason to mess up my speech around him.

He stands up and takes the sword from me, looking the round blade up and down as he studies the sword.

I stand behind Ciaran, lifting up his elbow and helping him stand properly. "Yes, put this foot a bit back, the other one right there, put your other hand right here, hold the sword this way... good!" I exclaim once he is in a proper stance. "Alright, this position is a good position for sword fighting, as it will help you to be at a good angle to defend yourself and it will be hard to knock you off balance."

He nods, and I lift my sword.

"Go on, hit it," I tell him, and he weakly clashes our swords. "In a war, you would've just died."

Ciaran huffs. "I am not a sword fighter, Rowan."

"Well, you should learn," I say, hitting his sword and watching him panic and try to defend himself, which he does decently well. "That was not bad. I think you should know how in case there is a point in which you will need to protect yourself."

He purses his lips, trying to figure out how to use the sword better, but he has never used a sword before. Not that he told me, but it is quite obvious.

"Try to disarm me," I tell him, and he tries, but I have him beat in seconds. "Again. Try to find my weaknesses and work around them, but until then, work on protecting yourself."

Ciaran quickly breaks a sweat and I can see he is growing tired, but he must learn. If he is alone and I or someone else is not around to protect him, he will be killed easily.

If that happened I would be heart broken.

No, not heart broken.

Ciaran and I are not lovers or anything past acquaintances, honestly. If he dies, I would feel bad.

That is it.

In my thoughts, Ciaran takes advantage and hits my sword out of the way, pressing the rubber tip of his own sword into my chest. He cheers and drops his sword, lifting his hands above his head in victory.

I roll my eyes and press my sword against his chest. "You should probably make sure your opponent is dead," I tell him, and Ciaran narrows his eyes.

"This is my first victory," he argues. "Besides, I found your weakness."

That piques my interest. "Really? What is my weakness then, Ciaran?"

He grins. "You get distracted with your thoughts. I do not know what you were thinking about, but you zoned out and went through simple motions for no reason," he says in a confident, smug way. "What were you thinking about?"

Protecting you.

The words echo in my head, but I cannot tell him that was what I was thinking. It's not my job to protect him; all I did was free him because I owed him when he saved me, but he is not my responsibility.