Training and Something More

It had been only a few days since I began my noble training, and already I was realizing how hard it was to adapt to such strange customs. Holding cutlery the “proper way,” speaking politely in rehearsed tones, dancing with careful steps, riding horses with perfect posture, sword fighting with technique rather than stubbornness, and even sitting properly during tea parties—it was all overwhelming. Honestly, it was a mystery how I was even holding out with so many lessons at once.

Still, I was determined. I wanted to stand tall beside the five royals who had treated me with kindness from the start, never once mocking me for my fallen noble status. In fact, I had even learned that Prince Cedric admired my grandfather’s sacrifice, saying he looked up to him as an example of what a noble should truly be.

The lessons were grueling, but slowly I was getting better. My instructor, a strict old man, gave me sharp criticism at every turn, but his advice was solid. Amara, on the other hand, was already perfect at everything—yet she always had a word or two ready whenever I messed up.

If I dropped a spoon at dinner, she’d grin and say, “No problem, just grab another before anyone notices!” If I fell from my horse, she’d jog over with a laugh, “Come on, up you go! You’re tougher than that.” Her encouragement was less about soothing me and more like a friend nudging me to keep going. Somehow, that made the failures sting a lot less.

My days soon became packed with activity—horse riding at dawn, etiquette practice at breakfast, more riding, sword fighting drills, afternoon dancing, tea practice, and finally evenings spent with Amara studying diplomacy, history, and politics.

It wasn’t long before I noticed she was hanging around me more often. Not that I minded—but Lucas Alderbane certainly did. Just as Princess Selindra had warned me, the heir to the Ducal House of Alderbane disliked me from the very beginning, and my time with Amara only made things worse.

He made trouble whenever he could. He poured salt into my tea during practice, tampered with my horse’s reins so they snapped mid-lesson, shoved me around like I was beneath him, and once tripped me so I spilled tea all over Amara’s brand-new dress. Each time, he’d put on an innocent face and somehow twist things to blame me.

Lucas also tried constantly to impress Amara—showing off his sword swings, talking loudly about his “duties,” or pretending to be chivalrous in front of her. But she never gave him the attention he wanted. Her eyes always seemed to wander my way instead.

Once, I finally asked her about it. She flinched and stammered, cheeks puffing like a child caught sneaking sweets. “Oh—uh—it’s nothing! I-I was just… um… checking if your lessons are working, that’s all!” Then she quickly turned her head away, leaving me scratching mine in confusion.

-----X-----X-----X-----

One evening, after dance practice, Amara and I sat together on a bench in the garden, waiting for tea to be served.

“So, Alex,” she asked, swinging her legs a little, “how’s castle life compared to life back in Redcliffe?”

“Well, Princess, it’s very different,” I said. “Back in Redcliffe, I spent most of my time out in the town helping people. But that doesn’t mean I dislike life in the castle.”

She pouted. “Still calling me ‘Princess’? We’ve known each other for months now. Just call me Amara already.” Then, with a tilt of her head, she added, “So? What do you actually like about living here?”

I thought about it. “Well… the lessons, for one. I never would’ve learned any of this back home. And also…” I paused, feeling heat rise to my cheeks, “…this castle already has some memories I like a lot.”

“Memories of what?” she asked curiously.

“Memories of you—” I blurted, then quickly corrected myself, “—and the others! I mean… all of you, treating me kindly and not caring about my family’s status.”

Her eyes blinked wide, and for once she seemed flustered. “O-oh. I… I see.” She fiddled with her sleeve, mumbling like she wasn’t sure how to answer.

After that, silence fell over us. Not the heavy, uncomfortable kind, but the awkward quiet of two kids who didn’t know what else to say. We just sat there, sneaking quick glances at each other, only to look away whenever our eyes met.

It wasn’t love, nor anything so serious. It was the innocent fondness of two children finding comfort in each other’s company—something Lucas, watching from afar with narrowed eyes, clearly misunderstood.

-----X-----X-----X-----

The day of Princess Amara’s birthday came, and the castle was full of noise and shine. Big colorful flags were hanging on the walls, lights from the chandeliers made everything bright, and the tables were covered with so much food I thought they might break. Nobles from all over came, dressed in shiny clothes that glittered under the candles.

I had never seen anything this fancy in my whole life. The music from lutes and violins filled the hall, kids of nobles ran around and danced, and I just stood by the wall, trying not to trip on the shiny shoes the servants forced on me.

Amara was in a dress of blue and silver, and she looked like she was glowing. She laughed, spun around with Selindra and her other siblings, and every noble kid went to say “happy birthday” to her. To me, she still looked like the same girl who laughed when I dropped forks in lessons, not some glowing princess like everyone thought.

Then the musicians started a new song. People whispered to each other. It was time for the birthday dance.

Before I could sneak away, Lucas Alderbane marched out like he owned the place. His nose was high in the air, and he bowed in a way that was so fake it almost made me laugh. Then he said really loud so everyone could hear:

“Princess Amara, as heir of House Alderbane, the only proper person to dance with you is me. Someone noble. Not some fallen noble’s grandson.”

His eyes cut toward me like knives.

The words hurt, but I kept my mouth shut. It was Amara’s birthday, and I didn’t want to make a scene.

But Amara laughed. Not the soft, pretty laugh the noble ladies always did, but her usual laugh—the one she used when I made dumb mistakes.

“Lucas,” she said loud and firm, “it’s my birthday. That means I choose who I dance with.”

She didn’t wait for him to say anything. She spun around, marched to me, and held out her hand with a smile.

“Well, Alex? You gonna stand there like a tree, or you gonna dance with me?”

I froze. “B-but—I’ll just step on your toes! You saw how many times I messed up!”

She grinned. “Then you better keep up. Come on!”

Before I knew it, she yanked me onto the floor.

The music got louder. At first, I stumbled and almost tripped, but Amara whispered, “Just follow me!” She pulled me through the steps, light on her feet, spinning like it was nothing.

Then it all came back to me—the hard lessons, the old teacher yelling at me, Amara’s teasing every time I slipped. Suddenly my feet moved the right way, my hands stopped shaking, and we spun and stepped like we actually knew what we were doing.

The room got quiet. People stopped talking. Everyone was watching.

What started as me almost falling turned into something else—we moved together so perfectly, it felt like we had practiced this dance a hundred times.

Amara spun with a loud laugh, her dress flying around, and I caught her hand right at the last note. We finished in perfect timing.

Silence.

Then—applause. Loud claps, whistles, cheers.

I just stood there frozen, my face burning. Amara gave a playful bow and pulled me down into one too, even though I was clumsy about it.

“See?” she whispered with a grin. “Told you you’d be fine.”

I swallowed. “That wasn’t fine. That was scary.”

She giggled, and somehow that made me more embarrassed than the crowd.

Lucas, though, just stood there, his face red with anger and shame. He had tried to make himself look amazing and make me look bad, but instead, everyone clapped for us.

Not him. Us.

And even if I didn’t understand why it looked so impressive, I knew one thing: Amara chose me, not because I was noble, but because—like always—she trusted me to try.