The Queen of the Tearling: A Novel by Erika Johansen

Author:Erika Johansen [Johansen, Erika]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780062328090
Google: n4sGngEACAAJ
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-07-08T04:00:00+00:00

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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Chapter 9

The Jewel

So many forces were at work against the Glynn Queen that she might have been a rock outcropping in God’s Ocean, worn down by the inexorable tide. Instead, as history shows, she shaped herself.

—The Glynn Queen: A Portrait, KARN HOPLEY

Faster, Lady! Move faster!” Venner barked.

Kelsea danced backward, trying to remember the careful footwork Venner had taught her.

“Keep the sword up!”

Kelsea raised the sword, feeling her shoulder protest. The thing was incredibly heavy.

“You need to move quicker,” Venner told her. “Your feet must be faster than your opponent’s. Even a clumsy swordsman could outmaneuver you at this point.”

Kelsea nodded, blushing slightly, and readjusted her grip. Being quick with a knife was very different from being quick with a sword. The width of her body, combined with the unwieldy appendage of the sword itself, was a hindrance. When Kelsea twisted around, she found her own limbs blocking her passage. Venner refused to let her work against anyone but himself until she moved faster, and Kelsea knew he was right.

“Again.”

Kelsea readied herself, cursing inside. They hadn’t even gotten to what she was supposed to do with the sword; her job right now was to keep it raised in front of her. Between her shoulder wound, her lack of muscle tone, and Pen’s heavy armor, holding the weapon was a daunting task in itself, and remembering the intricate footwork at the same time was nearly impossible. But Venner was a demanding teacher, and he wanted his full hour. He would doubtless keep her working for the remaining fifteen minutes. She raised the sword, sweat running down her cheeks.

“Dance, Lady, dance!”

She stepped backward, then forward, anticipating an imaginary opponent. She didn’t stumble this time, an improvement, but she could tell from Venner’s sigh that she’d moved no faster. She turned to him, panting, and raised the sword helplessly. “Well, what more am I to do?”

Venner shifted from one foot to another.

“What?”

“You require conditioning, Lady. You’ll never be as lithe as a dancer, but you’d move faster if you carried less weight.”

Kelsea flushed and quickly turned away. She knew she was heavier than she should be, but there was a big difference between knowing something and hearing it spoken out loud. Venner was old enough to be her father, but she didn’t like hearing criticism from him. If Mace was in the room, she knew, he would never have let Venner get away with it. But she also knew that she invited impertinence by her casual manner, her refusal to punish anyone for speech.

“I’ll speak to Milla about it,” she replied after a long moment. “Maybe she can change my diet.”

“I meant no disrespect, Lady.”

Kelsea gestured him to silence, hearing a soft movement outside the door. “Lazarus, is that you?”

Mace entered with a perfunctory rap on the doorframe. “Majesty.”

“Are you spying on my lessons?”

“Not spying, Lady. Merely protecting an interest.”

“So say all spies.” Kelsea took a small cloth from the bench and wiped the worst of the sweat from her face.

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