Page 21 of A Kiss of Flame

‘Enter,’ he barked.

And there she was.

His daughter. The one he had never known existed. And now the heir to the throne, through no fault of her own, a role for which she was totally unprepared.

They had done their best to make her presentable, the ladies-in-waiting, but he could see clearly that she still delighted in defying them. Her hair was a case in point, ragged and cut short. She refused to wear anything on her head, beyond a ribbon.

Lynette had told him all about it. At length. With far too many details. And Yvain had done nothing to intervene as his wife complained.

‘Better you hear it than I do,’ his friend said, when Roland looked to him for aid.

And though it might have all the makings of a nightmare, of a constant political headache, Roland couldn’t help but feel proud of her. She was standing her ground as best she could, he supposed.

There was no sign of Finn. Maybe he was waiting outside. Roland had told him to take his summons to her, make sure she read it and to bring her back here, no matter how long it took. And it had indeed taken a very long time. He hadn’t said that his ward needed to be in the room as well while Roland explained everything to her.

It was probably better this way.

She didn’t look upset. She must have taken some time to compose herself when Finnian told her he had to leave the palace. Maybe that explained the time it had taken. Hopefully, no more would be said about it. If she had come in here in tears, or demanding that he change the plans, he wasn’t quite sure what he would do. There was no way he could alter anything now.

‘What can I do for you, Grandmaster?’ Wren asked, taking the seat he offered. She had Elodie’s way of making even the grandest title sound small. It used to amuse him, he recalled.

It was a lot less amusing in the mouth of his daughter.

But still, she seemed fine. Calm. That was good.

‘I’ve reached a decision which will affect you,’ he said, deciding there was no point in beating about the bush.

‘Affect me how?’ Wren asked, instantly suspicious. Rightly so. At least she had some instincts that might allow her to survive at this wretched court. She would need to develop a thicker skin though. And be less transparent.

‘Combat training. You will begin tomorrow morning. After breakfast, two of my finest knights will begin your instruction in weaponry.’

She was staring at him like he had suggested she learn to walk through fire. ‘Weaponry? They’re going to teach me how to fight?’

‘Well… yes.’

To his surprise, she was on her feet in an instant, her eyes shining, with a smile like a child given gifts for her nameday. ‘I won’t let you down. You won’t regret this.’

Roland sat back in his chair, studying her carefully. She was delighted. Not what he had expected from her at all. Young women weren’t meant to wield swords. Yet Wren did not like much of what the ladies in the palace did instead. And Elodie had trained, of course, but the court was a different place these days. Ylena didn’t approve, preferring more dignified lessons for her women.

Wren was an unexpected puzzle. ‘You want to learn how to fight?’

She stared at him as if he had grown an extra head. ‘Of course I do. I was useless in the forest. If I hadn’t had some measure of magic and knowledge of it from Elodie I would have been…’

Magic. He hadn’t heard her admit to its use before. Not in so many words. Well, he had known that much. She had lit the sky on fire with it, called up the light of the Aurum and sent it flowing through each of the knights. She had saved Finn. That was the way she would fight. Didn’t she realise that?

But the moment she said it out loud, her face fell and she looked truly appalled that she had admitted as much to him. Slowly, she dropped back into the chair.

‘I mean…’ she tried to begin. Words failed her.

Roland leaned forward, still examining the minute changes in her expression, the way she betrayed herself. She was afraid of her abilities, he realised. Or rather, afraid of what she could do with them.

Understandable. And probably wise.

‘You are Elodie’s daughter,’ he told her in that calm voice he used with new recruits, or men shaken apart by the worst excesses of war. ‘Of course magic comes naturally to you. But you are also my child, so I hope the sword will as well. Magic is not the answer to everything and it can be fickle. A sword, less so.’ It was the smallest kindness. Admitting their relationship was risky in public, though everyone knew it. And besides, if anything happened to her when he had the means to give her another way to defend herself, he’d never forgive himself. It was bad enough he was already sending away the one man she trusted above all others.

‘I’ll… I’ll try my best.’

He didn’t doubt that. Not for a moment. She didn’t strike him as lazy or careless in anything she did. Young, yes, but not a child. Not anymore. He felt a surprising stab of pain at not having known her as a little girl. His little girl.