The Queen's Secret (The Queen's Secret #2) - Melissa de la Cruz Page 0,10
and I have to remind myself not to smile or even look at him for a moment longer than necessary.
“Again, ma’am?” Rhema seems to burst with energy. She assumes a crouching pose, ready to pounce, and I hold up my hand.
“Just give me a moment,” I say, pretending to be winded. Really, I just want to listen to Cal as he puts the lumbering recruits through their paces. He’s shouting at them to drop to the ground and then spring back up, and I’m guessing that the dropping is taking too long, and the springing back is more like a slow climb.
“Will you hurry up!” he bellows, and I struggle to suppress a smile. “If this was a real battle, you’d be dead by now, lying facedown in a ditch with a spear through your guts and an arrow in your eye!”
Crows caw and swoop overhead, and the men under Cal’s ferocious watch grumble. I wish I could find a way to speak to him at the end of my training, but I can’t just wander over. I’m the queen, and I have my circle of guards who must shuffle everywhere with me. All I can do here is fight, getting out some of my frustration at being cooped up inside for too long.
“Right—again, please,” I tell Rhema, and she swings at me before I have my staff in position. But I react in time, whacking at her own weapon so hard she spins away and almost falls onto a bale of hay. It’s not just frustration that I need to get out of my system: It’s pent-up aggression. A swipe with a fighting stick is a smack for the Small Council; a kick to the chest is a blow against the rumor-mongers spreading despicable stories about me and my supposed dark magic. I wish some of them were here in the courtyard so I could practice on them. I wouldn’t be rusty or out of breath anymore.
By the end of my session, my face burns with the heat of strenuous activity, and I know my arms and legs will be stiff tomorrow. This is what I’ve missed—the brisk fresh air, the breeze on my face, the freedom to jump and run. My new Guild trainer bows and thanks me for a good session.
“Impressive, ma’am,” Rhema says, and it doesn’t feel like flattery when she follows up with criticism. “With more work, your reaction times will improve, and your arm reach will be more extended.”
“Well, let’s fight again in a day or two,” I say before she can come up with any more helpful advice. Rhema nods. She’s red-cheeked as well, I’m pleased to see. She may be fit, and a little younger than me, but I can still hold my own.
The new soldiers have been dismissed and are loitering in the courtyard, some bent double or crouching on the cobblestones. Cal is conferring with one of the officers, pointing to the unfortunate recruits.
One of my own guards hands me a flagon so I can take a drink, and I pretend to be standing around because of exhaustion. It’s such a long time until I’ll see Cal again tonight. Sometimes I long to speak to him during the day or share a meal with him. Just be in his presence rather than waiting until my ladies have gone to bed and I’m half asleep.
Rhema wanders away toward the stables, unlacing the leather guards wrapped around her forearms. But she stops for a moment and glances over at Cal. She grins at him and he notices: He smiles right back. The sight of this small exchange, nothing more than a moment, unsettles me. Cal’s smile is broad and true. He must respect Rhema. He must like her.
So why has he never mentioned her to me?
Rhema strolls over to Cal and slaps him on the shoulder. Now they are smiling and leaning toward each other to exchange a few words like the colleagues they are. But my heart is speeding; I have to swallow back bile in my throat. She can touch Cal in public; I can’t. Jealousy wrenches at my stomach. She is so young and so pretty and surely reminds him of me when we first met. When we first fell in love.
“Return!” I bark at my guards, and march back toward the main door of the hall keep. Their smiles are like red clouds blotting out the brightness of the day.