Forbidden Fruit by Joelle Charbonneau

Author:Joelle Charbonneau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2018-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

5

Graylem drew his own sword. “It would be my honor, my lord Roddick.”

“There are no lords on the training grounds,” Roddick said. “Fighting makes all men equal, and there is your proof.”

He pointed to where a smooth-faced man with dark hair wearing a deep blue cloak stepped out of a doorway and strode toward the practice grounds. Men bowed as he passed. Several girls appeared in the doorway and followed behind, but it wasn’t until he saw the woman with long, almost white hair striding purposefully through the others toward the tall, wooden fence, that he realized the identity of the man in the blue cloak.

Prince Andreus removed his cloak and draped it on a post. Then in a smooth move, he vaulted over the fence and drew his sword. He was dressed in a mail shirt like all the others, but his gleamed brighter—as did his weapon. A man with gray-streaked blond hair saluted with his own weapon before he charged. The swords clanged, separated, and then flew toward each other again. The Prince was good. His grip . . . his balance. The blades came together again.

The white blond woman could only be Princess Carys.

“Well?” Roddick yelled. He was standing in a different section of the field not far from where the Princess leaned against a fence, watching her brother fight with great intensity.

Graylem glanced back at Andreus, who shoved the older man back and was stalking him in a circle waiting for another attack. Then he hurried across the brown grass to where Roddick waited. “I assumed you would want to wait until Prince Andreus was finished.”

“Like I said before, Graylem, there are no lords once you step onto this field. Let Prince Andreus worry about his fight. I suggest you worry about your own.”

Roddick’s blade lashed out, and Graylem stumbled back as it whistled through the air where his torso had just been.

“I wasn’t ready!” Graylem yelled as he fumbled for the clasp on his cloak.

The other swordsman swung his sword in a lazy circle with a smile. “Do you think the enemy on the battlefield is going to wait until you are ready?”

Graylem let his cloak drop to the ground and kicked it to the side, then began to circle the guard.

“Lords like to fight with honor,” Roddick said over the shouts and clangs coming from the other parts of the field. “Anyone in Eden’s Guard does whatever it takes to win.”

Roddick charged forward, and his blade cut the air.

Did the King’s Guardsman want him to win or lose? Graylem wondered as he swung his own weapon and held tight to the hilt as the two swords clashed and his arms vibrated with the force of the strike. Had the blade struck him, it would have cut him in two. But the power Roddick had used for such a blow made it harder for the guard to recover his balance.

His heart slammed hard as he stepped back, pivoted, and slashed. It wasn’t a full swing. It wasn’t meant to be a striking blow, but one to force a reaction from Roddick.

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