THE CONFLICT #2

CHAPTER 27

AXEL

I wake up early. Light barely warming the skies when I dress in light combat gear and head for the field currently being used for training. Im intent on working out my frustrations. It has become my daily routine. It’s been months since I’ve trained so regularly and I’m grateful for the clear head the work out gives me.

I can’t get Alma out of my mind.

And not only in a s****l way. My dark thoughts are truly beginning to mess with my mind, even as I sleep, I am plagued. Alma is starved for attention from Ragnar. Ragnar is five years her senior and while Ragnar has always been very practical, it’s evident Alma has a far less realistic view of the world. A view that could so easily be made use of, should the need or want arise. It would be so easy to fulfil her romantic expectations and at the same time mess around with Ragnar’s fairs. Maybe, she will even leave Ragnar, realising how little chemistry exists between them. And well, her loss is my gain. Why not enjoy myself while I’m going about it? Walking onto the cleared field, spreading across the hill and sweeping into a dip, I debate whether to find a partner to spar with when a slim lonely figure catches my attention. I smile at the play fates make. It seems only fitting that she would be here on today of all days. She sits on a log with her back to me, watching the men at a distance test their strength and skill. Coming up behind her, I notice the way she’s dressed, battle-ready. It’s such a strange look for her, it makes me wonder if it’s actually hers or borrowed.

“Are you joining the sparring today, Princess?”

She jumps at the sound of my voice, turning swiftly to confront me. “You scared me!” she accuses, her cheeks flushed prettily from the cold morning.

“Pardon me, I never meant to.” I give her my most charming smile as she settles back into her spot upon the log, unruffling her features.

“I was hoping to find Ragnar here.” She confides in me, disappointment thick in her tone, “Maybe he would spare a bit of his time, but instead I find you. I certainly won’t see any of him with you here, of that I am certain.”

I blink at the sharpness in her voice – the disappointment laced with venom. Curious by her words, I ask “How did you plan on using his time?” Though it is obvious what she had had in mind.

Alma stands, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. Her warm coloured brown hair, lightened by time in the sun, hangs loosely around her shoulder blades and chest as she turns her full attention to me.

“I wanted to ask him to train me so that I can defend myself should your guards once again slip up and someone attempts to hurt me.” I frown at her reproach of my duties, “But I see now that it’s a stupid thought and quite honestly a waste of my time.”

I bite my rising anger. My men died protecting Novena. For her to say such a thing while their bodies lie cold is not only disrespectful, it’s a truly self-centred thing to say.

I force myself to let it slide, despite myself, “Why not just ask him this morning or last night when you went to bed with him?” I laugh, the reason dawning on me, “Perhaps you thought he wouldn’t help you unless you put him on the spot in front of all his men. A public ambush.”

He should have been here, should have trained at least some time this morning. He probably saw her and turned tail.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t jump to such conclusions. He is my husband after all.” She’s saying coolly with only a hint of anger traceable in her voice. She starts away, intent on putting distance between us I’m sure.

“Wait,” I take hold of her arm gently, “If you care so much about your safety, I could help you out, teach you a few basic moves? Then maybe you can surprise Ragnar when you get your chance with him.”

I see that the idea intrigues her but then her suspicion is evident, “I’ve been in this world long enough to know that no favour is given freely.”

“Consider it my apology for my behaviour yesterday.” I say, placing a hand over my heart.

She smiles slightly, pressing her lips together. I narrow my eyes slightly as she takes longer to accept my help than I expected. Growing impatient, I watch as she looks at the field where the soldiers practice. The cold morning air pinkens her cheeks beautifully as her plump lips seem to pout in indecision.

Finally, she grins widely, “Fine.” She says, gathering her hair and tying it into a ponytail.

“Great! Let’s choose weapons then.” I wave my hand in the direction of the other men sparring, “Shall we?”

She happily leads the way. Not for the first time I wonder at her overly bubbly nature, whether it’s a show or front for some emotion much greater. She practically skips with excitement as I retrieve myself a practice knife and then help her select the right one for herself.

“If someone were to attack you, I’d think it would be more of an assassination than an open battle. They would probably use a knife or another object much smaller and swifter than a sword, something that would require them to get a lot closer to you before striking and at the same time, effective in silencing you quickly should you attempt to scream for help.”

She seems taken aback by my analysis, “That’s mighty intuitive of you.”

I shrug, “It makes more sense and if you were to learn how to use this knife properly, you could keep one concealed on your person at all times.”

She nods her head in approval, “I think that would be a marvellous idea.” Holding the knife more firmly in her hand and locking eyes with me. "I'm ready."

I grin at her readiness, “Good, then let’s begin.”

She’s slow to begin with, her defence slow and unsure. As she builds courage with the practice knife, her movements become wilder but still ineffective in landing a blow. I’m careful not to do any real damage to her person. While this ensures that she walks away bruise free, it also allows me to use different tactics in sparring with her. Ones that allow me to get a lot closer to her. We’ve been going at it for a while now and Alma is starting to feel the strain with her hands on her knees, she breathes in little pants. I patiently wait as she wipes the sweat from her brow and stands at her full height again. Which is hardly impressive. Alma is a tiny little thing. I smile widely at her determination to continue, before I launch myself at her again. She raises her knife to chest level, ready to retaliate. Grabbing her wrist and turning her arm, she’s forced to drop the knife into my grasp as I swiftly pin her back against my front and hold the knife to her throat loosely. I allow her to attempt to gain freedom, gritting my teeth as she wiggles against my body and jabs shots that have me grunting in slight discomfort. When it’s obvious that she’s unable to get an advantage, I lift the knife further up her neck, forcing her head back against my chest. Bending my head to her ear, I catch the sweet smell of her perfume. She sucks in a nervous breath at my closeness, her body stiffening.

“If this were a real assassination, you would have been dead the moment I got the knife out of your hands.” I release her. “Don’t lose your weapon. If I come at the arm holding the weapon, you use the palm of your other hand to hit me under my chin. Like this,” I show her, “Or punch me in the throat.”

She sighs loudly, “I really suck at this.” She says in frustration.

I laugh at her pouty look, “No, you’ve just started. You cant give up just yet.”

She smiles shyly up at me just as the speakers blare, followed by the sound of Ragnar’s voice.

“Greetings, this is Prince Ragnar Mace speaking. I have an important announcement to make. We will again be attacking The Stone City. In addition, there will be a far more dangerous adventure. We will be needing volunteers for this strategic attack.”

There’s a pause over the speakers, “Now, think carefully before volunteering. This attack is considered high risk with low survival rates. As your Prince, I would never ask you to do something I am not willing to do myself. I will be part of the volunteers.”

My heartbeat quickens in anger at his declaration. What the hell is Ragnar thinking! As the last present heir to the throne, we cannot afford to lose him. The soldiers moral would shatter.

“We attack in two days’ time.” And then the speakers go dead.

Alma's face is snow white as she looks at me in shock. I open my mouth to say something when she bolts, running towards the old ruins of the city. I follow at a distance, confident that I know exactly where it is that she’s going. When I reach Ragnar’s made-up office, loud voices arguing filter through the door. One at a higher pitch than the other. Opening the old wooden door silently, I come across Ragnar leaning against a desk, his arms folded over his chest as Alma points her finger at him aggressively.

“You didn’t even consult me! You could die and you didn’t even think it was important to tell me first!” She shouts, tears running down her cheeks.

“Alma, I could die in any battle...” Ragnar begins, his voice betraying his irritation.

Alma cuts him off “No! Nothing you can say will make this better! I am less than a wife to you and I can’t even say I’m your friend.”

Her voice breaks as fresh tears spring from her eyes.

"Alma…" He tries again.

"What is your plan?" She demands, her little fists curling at her sides.

Ragnar closes his eyes, tilting his head back as if pleading for strength. "We will be striking an area slightly east of The Stone City. It's called Kallipo. They will be our real target. This part of the attack will be achieved in small groups and as quickly as possible. Guerrilla warfare at its finest."

Ragnar tries to take hold of her shoulder as she wipes frantically at her eyes, but she pulls away. As she does her eyes catch mine as I stand frozen in place, spying on a scene that isn’t for my eyes. I watch the sadness swirling in her eyes. The pain his actions have caused her and whats more, the months of time wasted. She doesn’t just want to be his wife, she wants to be someone he trusts, someone he would talk to. Her tear-filled eyes appeal to a part of me that I’ve never felt before. Throughout my relationship with Ragnar, softness and vulnerability has been a rarity, a weakness. But looking at Alma, all I can think is how brave she must be to openly love someone who might never love her back.

“I suppose you’re here to say something as well.” Ragnar snares.

“I think Alma’s said it all.” I say with an air of arrogance that I know Ragnar usually can’t resist getting annoyed with.

Alma smiles at that gratefully. She appreciates my support. With one last lingering look at her husband, she leaves the room, brushing past me on her way out. I catch my breath at the sensation of her clothes touching mine even though I know that she must have done it unintentionally. Ragnar doesn’t seem to notice my wandering mind. He shakes his head angrily, annoyed at the confrontation with his wife.

“Aren’t you going to go after her?” I ask.

He huffs, “God no.” I realise that he can't be bothered. He is more than happy that she is gone.

"She is livid, shouldn't that matter to you?" I question him.

He laughs, "What is she going to do? Divorce me? I'd sign the papers tomorrow." I just shake my head. He voice changes as he watches me, “I’m doing this for you.” He states as if I should be grateful.

I look at him hard. The way his eyes seem to lighten when he looks at me, the way his body relaxes, and I realise that I feel sorry for Alma. Deeply so. She deserves someone to look at her like that too.

“Why?” I say harshly, suddenly annoyed with him even more.

“How can you ask me that?” Ragnar demands angrily, frowning, “I told you once before that I would never again leave you to fight without me by your side and I won’t.” He says with conviction, “Ever again.”

I huff at his stupidity, “You are the last of your family, Ragnar. Don’t be this stupid.”

“You think my love for you is stupid?” He demands, storming up to me, his height equal to mine.

He could easily intimidate a lesser man. His height alone is daunting enough, but he doesn’t frighten me. Nothing about him ever could. I've seen too deeply into his soul to ever cower away from him.

I raise a brow at him in challenge, “Misplaced. There is nothing between us anymore Ragnar. I don’t need you at my back or are you forgetting that you’re married?”

He chocks his head arrogantly, “How could I? You keep reminding me. At least, it’s nice to dominate all the time.”

I roll my eyes at his weak attempt to rile me up. If he thinks I don't know that he likes it when I'm in control just as much as he likes to hold the power himself, then he is mistaken. But I'm not going to get into that with him now.

“You shouldn’t do this Ragnar. You’re our country's last hope with your father and sister no longer in the picture.” I rub my face in frustration, unable to understand his thinking, “It would be a disaster if you died.”

“You think I didn’t consider this before I volunteered myself? I might be the last of my line, but I am not the last Mace.” He says with finality. He isn’t changing his mind I realise, and nothing I say is going to change that. “Besides, it’s too late to change my mind.” He says, confirming my thoughts.

The last Mace. Through marriage only. “Alma.” I say.

Ragnar smiles victoriously, “Yes, apparently she does have her uses. She is my wife and would take control should something happen to me. There, issue resolved.”

I laugh shortly, “You mean her father would? Through her of course.”

Ragnar raises his eyebrows at my words. If he hadn’t thought of that before, he certainly is considering it now. Duke Blacksmith isn't man enough to lead and run a country. If it wasn't for his relationship with the King, he wouldn't even be running the state of Sanelane.

“Then you best make sure nothing happens to me.” Ragnar threatens, rounding the desk and taking a seat behind it with all the grace of royalty. “Still, you speak as if I am not a seasoned warrior with a ranking almost as impressive as yours. I trust my sword and I trust you at my back. I have no fears of death collecting my soul anytime soon.”

His words should make me happy. Knowing that I am the one he trusts when I know that so few hold such esteem. But I also know his words are tainted with betrayal. When the real test came, Ragnar showed me just how far that trust goes. And worse, how far his loyalties go.

“I don’t know why I bother trying to reason with you.” The bitterness in my voice dips with the emotions I’ve struggled to hold on to since I found out about his engagement, “You haven’t taken my advice in months. I don’t know why I thought this time would be any different.”

Ragnar smiles bitterly to himself, taking my words to heart. And I take satisfaction in the knowledge that I am one of the few that can hurt the Cold Prince of the South. With one last look, I leave him there in the misery of his own making.