One

Roselle wasn’t the first image that came to mind when one said princess. That was mainly because she wasn’t really, according to her father’s abdication from the royal line before the rest of the royals tragically lost their lives. Now, she and her sister were the best and only options for any preservation of the monarchy.

She couldn’t complain, as it had its perks. It meant automatic respect and she had to admit that it was nice on her ego, but it didn’t stop the few from treating her like trash because she happened to be born with not one, but two abilities that made others squirm.

She swiped a russet curl that had been knocked loose behind her ear, cracking her neck and shaking loose the tension that had built in her shoulders. She flexed her hand on the short sword she currently held between herself and Amber, her sulfur-green eyes narrowing as she stared her opponent down.

They were in the practice chamber, the only light coming from the large windows that lined the outer wall. Despite the small crowd of their other teammates huddled in the corner, Roselle refused to break eye contact.

She sidestepped, flipping her blade in her hand to hold it in an icepick grip. “Is that all you’ve got?” She smirked, mirth bubbling in her chest as she sensed Amber’s frustration grow. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you’re letting me win.”

The brunette grit her teeth, her fingers tightening on her staff before she swung forward, arching its blunt end toward her.

Roselle blocked it, evading a follow-up kick aimed toward her knee. “Fighting dirty,” she quipped. “Two can play that game.” She launched into an assault of her own, ducking beneath Amber’s defense and landing an elbow into the side of her ribcage before grabbing onto the staff.

It was no surprise when Amber released her weapon, leaving the metal to clatter loudly to the floor. Neither girl reacted, as Amber quickly grabbed her wrist, wrenching her blade free from her grasp and allowing that too to fall to the floor, her dark eyes burning with concentration.

“Just face it Nasae,” she grinned, almost wildly, watching Amber scoff at the nickname. “I’m going to beat you in front of everyone. What will your dedicated followers think?”

“You tell me.”

Roselle was suddenly looking up at the ceiling, her legs swept from under her and the air knocked from her lungs. She groaned and propped herself up, wincing.

“That’s now- what, five wins?” Amber remarked, moving to retrieve her staff. “Who’s next?”

Roselle picked herself off the floor, grabbed her sword, and slid it back into the holster at her side. She then bowed her head in concession before returning to her spot along the wall beside Jacob.

“Decent,” he murmured, his eyes tracking Mark as he stepped up to be the next contender. “You may want to dial back on snarky wordplay and increase your awareness of what your opponent is planning.”

“Excuse me for not being able to hear thoughts,” she rolled her eyes. “I was trying to watch her.”

“Not really,” Jacob chuckled, and Roselle ignored how the sound made her heart race. “You were too busy stroking your ego to do that.”

She shot him a look, reaching up to rewrap her disheveled hair, pinning it in place. “As if you haven’t done it.”

“Yeah, but I know better than to do it against Amber,” He snorted. “You’re likely to get burnt like that.”

“Luckily no magic is allowed this time,” she sassed.

“Right,” he tried to hide his smile. “And I suppose you can get away with your low-level telepathy because it doesn’t do anything.”

“You’re just jealous,” she muttered, turning away from him. Watching, but not registering Amber clocking Mark in the head. A collective murmur of sympathy arose from the other observers.

“Nah,” Jacob shifted, his arm brushing against hers before it lifted to run through his permanently messy dark brown hair. “If I didn’t have this, I’d just be a human.”

Roselle bit her lip to keep from laughing. Jacob as a human… she’d pay to see that. “You would go stark raging mad in a day.”

“Probably,” he shrugged, smirking to himself for a moment.

Her eyes lingered on him, noting how much he had grown in the past year. He had gone from looking like an overly excited child to having a defined jawline and a more mature presence that held subtle darkness under the surface. His eyes had grown more thoughtful, though she knew there was still a good dose of the annoying kid who had made a habit of punning at her while she tried to focus in briefings or during practices.

She could feel herself being drawn to him; an urge that made her want to punch herself in the face. Not only was he a menace, but he also stood with his heathen father who seemed hell-bent on destroying what remained of their society. While she was willing to be friendly with him, her allowance of getting close to the headmaster’s family stopped there.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Jacob’s lips curled up in amusement as he bumped her with his elbow.

“How I wish I could hit you in the face,” she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Of course you were,” his smug smile only grew, along with her desire to actually do so.

“I’m serious,” she glanced at him, suppressing the smile trying to weasel its way onto her face.

“I know you are,” he snorted, his attention broken by a loud clang. They both turned to notice that it was no longer Mark facing Amber, but Brady. The redhead had landed a solid hit near one of her grips, following up with a kick to the other side. With the staff now lying unattended on the floor, Amber dodged the next swipe coming at her, though it was obvious that Brady was holding back now.

“He’s really going to let her win?” Roselle sighed.

“Of course he is,” Jacob looked unenthused about the idea that his sister could now brag about beating seven of her nine teammates. “If this comes down to me standing between her and total victory, I’m going to scream.”

“Do it,” Roselle looked at him expectantly. “I’d love to watch that.”

“I’m going to count on Elaine to fully rage at her,” he nodded toward his other sister who was boredly staring out the window rather than paying any attention to the match. “She still hasn’t gotten over Amber cutting off some of her hair last week.”

Roselle muffled her giggle. “Is that what that racket was about?” She glanced over, noting how Elaine’s hair had been tightly twisted into a single thick braid rather than her regular style that allowed more movement. “I’d be upset too,” she admitted.

“Say no more,” Jacob made a show of reaching for the small dagger on his belt, laughing when Roselle slapped his hand.

“I will hurt you,” she told him.

“I’m shaking in terror,” he deadpanned.

“Of course you are,” she snorted.

“You’re absolutely terrifying,” he continued. “I wake up every day and just think about how I fear for my life every time I look at you.”

They looked at each other for a moment, before erupting in laughter.

“Hey,” Amber’s voice silenced them, their team leader watching them with crossed arms and an entertained expression. “I get that you two are off in your own world, but the rest of us don’t need to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, Jacob, you can join me so I can beat you into a pulp. It’ll be fun.”

Roselle felt her insides freeze at her implication, realizing very quickly that the others in the room felt the same way. She felt herself shift away from the boy, who remained unbothered by his sister’s teasing. She felt sick to her stomach.

While Jacob simply pushed away from the wall, Roselle was left staring blankly ahead. They were teammates, friends even, but he was still the son of the man who had driven her family apart and disgraced his position of leading and protecting their people. That alone was enough for her to dismiss the warm and exciting feeling he brought her. No, she scorned the idea. It would be a disgrace.

She would never fall.