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Ethelind observed the king from a distance. He was dressed in a black doublet with carved silver buttons and wore a simple gold band nestled in his glossy curls. He had ordered a new crown made for him after Lucian's didn't fit his head, but it was still big, falling onto his forehead slightly. She did not know why he had called for her, and he hadn't said a word since she had entered. They were in the Observatory Tower, named for its large windows overlooking the castle walls as far as the distant town of Folkridge, and Landon was standing with his back to her, his eyes outside a window and his fingers lying on the sill. It was the first time he had asked to see her since Kael's death.

Ethelind hated him with a burning passion.

She saw the dead, bleeding bodies of tortured prisoners of war being secretly carted out to be burnt at night. She saw how easily he slipped into his position, as if he had been born for the role. No one had heeded the Black Archer's words: he must not be king.

Had she known him in the past? But it didn't matter. The Black Archer had ended up dead on the floor with Landon's knife embedded in her throat soon enough.

Landon was an unpredictable player in the game, and Ethelind hated things that were out of her control.

Kael had taken over Lucian's castle unfairly, yet Landon was starting over, rebuilding the Shadowhart image in his own way. Ethelind could see the calculation behind his every move: he wasn't doing it out of the good of his heart, but to gain more power and trust.

Perfect little king, she wanted to spit at him. Of course, no one can believe that someone so young and handsome could be so conniving and heartless.

When he had first arrived, the people around him had been wary. They had let their guards drop since then, believing that Landon was the easier of him and his father.

They were wrong.

It was only a matter of time before he had them in his grasp and feasted on that fear again. He was clever; biding his time, waiting for the right moment to impose a firm fist of rule over his people.

Landon never called for her, letting her become a living ghost. Ethelind had tried to see Audrey in her chambers but had been barred from entering by the two guards outside her door, both unyielding.

It would be so easy to run a sword through his back, she thought as she looked at Landon, then remembered how quickly his knife had embedded itself in the Black Archer's throat. Did he have a knife hidden somewhere? It was very likely.

"You called for me," she remarked, finally breaking the silence from where she sat on a plush chair, facing him.

He waved a dismissive hand. "My father made you his adviser. So, advise me."

"You need to gain supporters among your people," Ethelind told him.

"They already support me." Landon's expression was carefully guarded as he turned to look at her. "My tutor once told me that a dictator uses opportunity. Like Edward Shadowhart when he took advantage of the Development Years to seize power and split the country between his brothers. My father let the North suffer in his obsession with his own power. I am giving them money to plant, to build, to create. You don't see me as a good person, but I don't see how I'm doing anything wrong." He gave her an innocent smile.

Ethelind stretched out her legs lazily. "Edward Shadowhart took control with good intentions. I don't know if I can say the same thing for you."

He tilted his head to the side, assessing her with something resembling curiosity. "Carry on."

"You think you can be king, but you still have some way to go. You have the interest of the Northerners, but not yet their support. All you are to them is a young boy wearing a crown and playing at king. You are seventeen, am I correct?"

"And you are twenty, and your ambition suggests that you pay little attention to that fact."

Ethelind smiled, standing. He had grown taller than her, even though Ethelind was three years older and already tall for her age.

"Put yourself out there more. Visit them in their towns. Admire their farms, make speeches. Hold a grand funeral for your late father to show your remorse over his demise," Ethelind advised. "Kiss some babies."

Landon raised his eyebrows. "You act like I'm just a boy who has no clue what he's doing."

"That's because you are." She met his gaze coolly, meeting his fire with a face as tranquil as water to control the flames.

"And what does that make you, Eternel? Your parents turned away from you as a disgrace because you weren't born a boy and couldn't sit down and look pretty all day. So you ran away from home, selfishly leaving your sickly sister behind as the heir, killed your own cousin in battle, then Lucian dragged you here to let you rot in a dungeon," he drawled. "And now you're here, your power gone without a king to give it to you. A waste of food and space. All you went through... to fall to this?"

"It made me a survivor," Ethelind said, unable to keep the spite from her voice. Her fists had unconsciously clenched by her sides as he spoke, and she slowly unfurled them. She knew better than to prod at his backstory, but couldn't help it in the surge of anger that had overcome her. "And you aren't any better. Your mother died, your cousin abandoned you to live in the Free Isles, your brother一"

A knife shone in his hand suddenly, a clear threat that made her shut up. Knowing that she was watching, he idly ran a finger over the blade, reaching the tip and pressing his thumb against it until a bead of blood swelled under his skin.

"I imagine many people have imagined stabbing the great Ethelind to death." He sank into her armchair and lounged back before waving a hand at her. He was aggravatingly close. Teasing her. Practically begging her to try something. She had to clench her jaw to stop herself from retaliating. "Go on, Eternel. Continue to advise me. It amuses me greatly."

Don't be baited, she told herself.

"Very well, Your Majesty. I'd wed my disloyal fiancée, who would probably betray me at the first opportunity she got. She's seventeen now, I am led to believe. I would deal with Damek Westerling, who is still prancing about burning disloyal villages and trying to raise an army. Then I would get the East to send in the supplies and soldiers promised, and march through the South. I'd kill Ulysses and Malena. Then I'd get Junia and deal with her just in case she tried to avenge her family," Ethelind said with an icy chill to her voice.

He smiled. "Junia Silverling?"

"There are spy reports saying that King Filip is heading to the Southern castle to see a princess. Annalee has disappeared from all records completely, and Malena is with us." Ethelind watched Landon's expression. "See how it all adds up? She's alive and has deceived us all, it appears."

"You have spies in Teravardi."

She didn't deny it. "Everyone has a weak spot."

Landon's face had become closed off to her.

"Someday I am afraid that you will turn against me," Landon said. "I may be young, but I am not stupid. I just want to warn you that, should a day come when you betray me, I will not forgive you. There will be no second chances." Ethelind showed no visible reaction, but she tensed ever so slightly at the lack of mercy in his words. There was a promise in them. "You think that you're clever," he said, not fazed by her death stare. "But if you turn against me, I warn that the punishment will make you regret ever having committed treason."

"Are you threatening me?" Ethelind narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, I am. I have little use for you, as frustrating as that must be for you to hear." Landon smiled. "Don't make yourself expendable."

He began to walk out. Just by the door, he turned.

"Lady Hill is coming here for some time with her daughter. She's leaving her steward behind to guard the castle," he said.

"That woman can't be trusted."

"Oh, I know." A smile. "But I need her. She has a lot more power than she likes us to believe. You are not the only one with spies."

Ethelind shrugged. "I warn you she's not a person to rule through fear."

"Fear? What else do I know?" Landon asked, his voice quiet, before slamming the door shut.

Ethelind shook her head before moving over to the window and pressing her hand against the cool glass. She would have to gain his trust. How, she was clueless. But she would figure it out.

She made her way silently down the corridor, stopping at an arched windowsill to look down at the guards sparring down below.

Jax was always the best. His moves were quicker, calculated, and more powerful. Even the others of the King's Guard could not find any weaknesses in his defence, the longest fight against him lasting for little over three minutes.

I'll go for ten. Ethelind smiled slightly to herself, touching Silence on her belt and walking out into the gardens. She was frustrated from her meeting with Landon, and she needed to let off the stress before she ended up killing someone.

Jax glanced over at Ethelind as she strode across the grass, her hair tied up and her hand by her sword. The guards sparring around them watched, frowning and slowing down their fights.

"Lady Ethelind." He bowed his head.

"Captain Jaxon," Ethelind nodded.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"A fight," Ethelind replied, unsheathing Silence to show him. She had fought him before, back when Kael had taken over Lucian's castle, but had been weakened by inaction. That had ended in stalemate, but she wanted a second chance.

The faintest trace of a smile played on Jax's lips. "I was always told that a lady doesn't fight."

"This one does."

Jax swung his sword in an arc before holding it behind his back.

"I have not lost a fight in years," he warned.

"Neither have I." Two years, precisely. She flinched at the memory of Lucian, resisting the urge to feel her shoulder. She could still feel the scar from where Lucian had stabbed her, a permanent reminder of what she had done. Sometimes she had nightmares of Thomas, his blue eyes defiant, and his sword clashing against hers. I will be a true Northerner to the last.

She still saw the look of fear on his face as her sword ended his short life. She wanted to sob and beg him to leave her alone, but he never did. Thomas Everwood insisted on haunting her, his revenge for her sin.

"Very well. I'll try not to hurt you too much," Jax said, his purple eyes looking amused. "Man or woman, you'll fall all the same."

"I'll say the same for you," Ethelind replied.

She pointed her sword out, and Jax did the same.

"Do you need armour?" Jax asked.

He wore no armour himself, so Ethelind shook her head. "But no lethal blows."

"Indari," Jax said in Xiakyaore, the old Tongue of the North, the usual introduction to a spar.

Up. Ethelind and Jax held their swords up.

"Indaro," Ethelind said.

Down. The swords pointed at the floor.

"Ycando," Jax said.

Begin.

Jax swung his sword at her. Ethelind ducked before jabbing out with her own, a blow which he blocked before slashing to her right. She blocked before trying to kick out his feet. He dodged and went for her shoulder. Ethelind dodged before feinting a move to his right and bringing her sword towards his left. He parried.

He is left-handed. Quick, but doesn't always guard his right side. This all came to her in a flash.

"Not bad," Jax admitted.

"You're not that bad either," Ethelind grinned before breaking out of the parry, bringing her sword in an arc and pointing it at him.

She was aware of some other people coming to watch, but ignored them. All that mattered was the fight. All she could see was the fight. Her wrecked childhood, her dead sister, Landon... they all left, lost to the duel. A dull throb in her shoulder started where the scar of Lucian's sword had cut her, but she ignored it.

They sparred for a while, exchanging blows in a quick succession of clashing swords. There was no clear winner: they both had equal stamina, speed, and strength. While Ethelind harried furiously at his right side, Jax also worked out her weak points and moved to attack them. He tricked her into parrying to the left before tossing his sword to his right hand and attacking, his sword going under her arm and tearing the sleeve slightly. He pulled his sword back and bowed while she stared.

That's when Ethelind realised the mistake she had made.

He wasn't just left-handed: he was ambidextrous.

"Ycindo," Ethelind said, bowing back.

End. Jax smiled one of his rare smiles. Looking at it, she realised how beautiful it was. There were hundreds of other men that came in and out of Northstone, all with lands and titles.

And suddenly she was noticing the one person who would never look at her back in that way. He only loved honour and duty.

Stop it, she scolded herself as she felt her cheeks heating slightly. You're young and comely. You could have almost anyone else. He loves duty, and you love ambition.

But he was in front of her, his golden hair cropped shorter at the front and longer at the back. Lilac eyes rimmed in violet, a chiselled jaw, and dark blue uniform, and she could think of nothing else.

Stone-faced Jax, smiling suddenly.

She shoved the thought away, storing it behind a solid metal door in her mind and locking it away with the memories of her sister.

"That was a good fight you put up," Jax said.

"Never underestimate a woman. I will get you next time." Ethelind smirked, sheathing Silence. "I'm going to get a drink of wine. Do you want to come?"

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then he sheathed his own sword. "They already think we are sleeping together."

"Exactly. I've already fucked up our reputation, so who cares now?"

Jax sighed, then shrugged. "As long as I'm back on duty in an hour."

"Deal." Ethelind grinned.

Lol more Ethelind versus Landon

It's so fun to write lmao,, I love the two of them together although they absolutely hate each other

Love you all,

Shelly M x