Chapter 1
“No no no no no no no!” the armsmaster snarled, as Weyland sent Prince Ashkelon’s dagger flying and bore him down to the sawdust of the practice ring. The prince tried to bring his second weapon up, but Weyland batted it aside, kneeled on his wrist, and put his own daggers at the younger man’s throat.
Ashkelon grimaced. “I yield,” he muttered.
Weyland stood and backed three careful paces away, flipping the wooden practice weapons end-over-end in his fingers. Ashkelon stood, scowling. “What did I do wrong?” he demanded.
Weyland glanced at Armsmaster Trallix as she stalked forward, her face set in a thundering scowl. “Do you want to start? Or should I?”
“You overextended. Again,” Trallix said grimly. “Why, in the names of all the gods, do you always fall for the first feint? A
