The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2) by C. J. R. Isely

Author:C. J. R. Isely [Isely, C. J. R.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: C. J. R. Isely
Published: 2021-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Will took refuge in Visra’s stall, his back pressed against the wall, watching the bay horse move stiffly over his bedding. The stitches had been removed but the scar was still vivid, the hair barely starting to grow. The bay turned his large head to survey Will between mouthfuls of hay, a curious concern in the dark eyes.

The calm presence of his fiery horse made Will’s heart rate steady, his breathing even. Even so, his mind still was tormented with what the Ranger had said, this newest truth. The Ranger was using him. He wanted Will to take Thornten’s throne. Despite his fury with the Ranger, his anger that anyone would want to use him like this, Will knew that the Ranger had a point. It would be best for Alamore, but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want a crown and, clearly, the Ranger didn’t either or he wouldn’t be trying to push it off onto Will.

“Are you wanting to talk about it?”

Will looked up, startled. He hadn’t heard Niet enter the barn and Visra had, uncharacteristically, not pinned his ears at the older squire’s approach. He was leaning against Visra’s stall door, watching Will with a faint frown.

Will grimaced, pushing himself to his feet and brushing the straw from his tunic. “Not sure if I want to talk or if I feel more like punching something.”

“Well,” said Niet, laughing and opening the stall door for Will, “That’s a benefit of being a squire, isn’t it? We can talk while you throw punches. Come on, I’m supposed to be training you anyhow. It’s a good distraction.”

This seemed an inviting compromise and Will nodded, following Niet from the barn and back toward the jousting field. He was relieved to find it was still deserted. No doubt the other squires were just sitting down to breakfast.

“Footwork is the first thing with any training tactic,” Niet explained, vaulting the low fence into the arena. “Make sure you always keep a bend in your knee. A locked leg is a good way to hit the ground hard and get hurt in the process.”

“I know that one,” Will grumbled, climbing over the fence with less grace.

He was glad when Niet didn’t press with talk but rather pointed to his stance, correcting it only slightly, before raising his hands to chest height and lifting his brows. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Quick as lightning, Niet sprang forward, lifting a hand to block Will’s first strike and grip his wrist. With a spin, he twisted Will’s arm up and behind his back, knocking his knee into the back of Will’s so he crashed to the earth.

“You sure you’re ready?”

Panting in annoyance and surprise, Will wriggled free of Niet’s grip and straightened, flexing his fingers. “Blazes, I thought I was till you turned into a bloody assassin.”

Niet chuckled and stepped back, nodding to Will’s stance again. “You have to keep your eyes on my movements. You tried to think of my move before seeing it. So, step back, and we can try again.

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