Pandora's Box

Chapter 2: Part II

A voice urging for restraint whispered in Pandora's ear. Her conscience had burnt most of her resolve holding steadfast against Malachai's increasingly steel-clad grasp on her thoughts. Pandora had found increasing resonance with his words with each passing day. He was correct, after all. She was princess. It was her place to command others as she saw fit. And why shouldn't they suffer—or die—if she so desired it? It wasn't as though her mother and father hadn't ordered people to their deaths.

Though that had been war time. And that was different. Wasn't it?

"Pandora," Malachai snapped.

Tears rolled from the eyes of the whimpering tanner's boy. The air hang heavy with the boy's fear and Malachai's menace. Pandora shrugged and truth of Malachai's words settled over her shoulders like her favorite blanket.

She would enjoy the power that was her birthright. She tightened her grip on the stone and took aim.

The stone sailed. The tanner's boy winced, but stood pat as ordered. A blur of a hand flashed in front of the boy's face, snatching the stone from the air an inch from his nose. Malachai's eyes narrowed to slits and a sudden wave of embarrassment rushed over the princess.

"This seem like fun to you, Pandi?"Donovan stepped in front of the tanner's boy, tossing the stone in his hand. Queen Adella's hand-selected addition to the Citadel stared at Malachai with a ferocity well beyond his years.

The princess let her eyes fall to the ground, speechless. Of all the days for Donovan to have finished his morning duties early...

"Run along, Imitri," Donovan said to the tanner's boy. The frightened child regarded the Citadel's newest recruit with wide, hopeful eyes. But his feet remained stuck in place.

"It's ok," Donovan said. He handed the smooth stone to the child. "Go home."

"He'll do no such thing," Malachai growled. "This matter doesn't concern you, orphan. It's the princess's game. It's the princess's castle." Malachai marched the ten paces to Donovan, stopping nearly nose to nose. Malachai flinched, reveling in Imitri's cowering response.

"It's the princess's world."

Donovan scooped the boy behind him with a protective arm, squaring off with Malachai. "Imitri, go." Donovan's calm words stood in stark contrast to Malachai's preening growls. If Donovan's status as orphan were meant as an insult, it hardly appeared to matter.

"It may be Pandi's game, and castle, and world. But it's her mother's law both you and I have taken the oath to serve. And with the power of Queen Adella's voice behind that law, I'll see this game ended."

The crowd of gawking onlookers hesitated for a moment, then disbanded, bound for whichever shop or chore they had initially strayed from. Donovan, Malachai, and Pandora remained fixed in place like statues in the king's garden. The wash of embarrassment crushing Pandora's chest had only just begun to abate when finally Donovan spoke.

"Gehenna's blazes, what is wrong with you two? By what right do you assault a citizen of the kingdom?"

Malachai shrugged, and muttered. "What sort of citizen does a commoner make for?"

Anger finally broke free and Donovan thumped Malachai's chest with a hard shove. "No less citizen than you." He shoved Malachai again, knocking him back a step.

"Have you learned nothing from the commander? Cedrik must need to knock you on the head a few more times. Be you commoner, noble-born, or royalty." Donovan gave Malachai a final, ferocious shove that sent Malachai sprawling into the dust for punctuation.

"We are all equal under the law."

"Novi, that's enough," Pandora said, finally finding her voice. "It was just a bit of fun that got out of hand. It won't happen again."

Donovan's heart twisted at the use of the private nickname. Now that Malachai had heard it, it was all but assured to find its way to the lips of the other cadets in the barracks. But that was a matter for a different day.

"A bit of fun?" Donovan echoed. "You were throwing stones at a child like some spoiled brat on holiday from the Ivories. Is that who you are? Is that you who truly want to be?"

There was a hint of pleading in Donovan's voice and that cut deeper to Pandora's core than any invocation of her parents. She hated the way the words felt, and how Donovan managed to conjure the wisdom of an elder soul at barely fourteen winters.

Malachai pushed his way to his feet, brushing the dust from his trousers and cadet's doublet. "It is no concern of yours who the princess chooses to be, orphan. Her's shall be a destiny to eclipse us all."

"It's every concern of mine, rich boy. And noble-born or not, call me orphan a third time and you'll need more than a brushing off."

Pandora fought off the wince. If being called orphan were an insult to Donovan, being reminded of his father's wealthy status was the equivalent of driving a hot rail spike into Malachai's mind. He charged Donovan like an enraged bull.

But Donovan had learned well under the senior officers. He easily sidestepped Malachai's clumsy rush, and let the bully careen into the fence post of a nearby livestock pen. Infuriated, Malachai drew his cadet's dagger from his baldric.

"I'll have your heart."

Donovan assumed a perfect stance, taking quick note of his surroundings. Donovan's glance flashed to Pandora. He beckoned for Malachai to come.

"It's no longer mine to give."

This time, Malachai's assault came well-practiced and focused. The dagger sliced through the air inches from Donovan's throat. Donovan dodged and re-directed the strikes, stepping in quick time to the patterns drilled into his head by their combatives instructor. Malachai's blade whistled past Donovan's ears and eyes but failed to taste flesh. Pandora watched in horror as her two closest friends dueled.

The pair circled, Malachai feinting with his dagger, and Donovan evading the steel's kiss. "You've no place among our ranks, peasant. Why not give up and wander the Road with the rest of the vagabonds?" Malachai lunged. This time Donovan stepped forward, seizing Malachai by the wrist and wrenching it in a tight circular motion.

Malachai flipped head-over-heels, landing hard on his back, breath exploding from his lungs. In an instant, Donovan was on top of him, twisting Malachai's wrist to the point of snapping until he dropped his weapon. Donovan flashed Malachai a smug grin.

"Do you yield?"

"Never," Malachai spat. His wrist strained under Donovan's leverage. Donovan twisted further and Malachai finally relented. "Alright, alright, I yield. Release me!" Donovan twisted a final inch for good measure before releasing.

"Novi, I..." Pandora said.

The crowd that had gathered around the scrum dispersed. Donovan adjusted himself, brushed some of the matted, chocolate hair from his eyes. "What were you think—"

"Novi watch out!" Pandora shouted.