City of Fire #8

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“Good morrow,” Alais answered politely. “Your Majesty,” he bowed to the Prince, and upon standing erect again, took in the other young fellow’s good looks. Prince Tristan had blonde hair that reminded him of the fields of wheat that grew in the spring and summer on the royal grounds. His eyes were a brilliant blue, which had a hint of wisdom in them. He was beginning to appreciate why Gareth had given him a warning not to just think the prince was going to be a pushover. Alais own features were dark; his hair nearly black, his eyes the color of chocolate with flecks of gold, which could ignite when his emotions were raised. He was surprised to see that Tristan was every inch as tall as he was. For though Gareth had worked within the castle’s periphery for more than two years, this was his first time actually seeing the prince at close range.

Tristan smiled easily at him, and extended an arm to be clasped, which again surprised Alais. “Welcome, and thank you for joining us,” Tristan said sincerely. “I am told you will be an excellent match for me in pretty much every field of endeavor we undertake. I relish that!” he added, the glint of a welcome challenge in his blue eyes.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Alais bowed again, but was stunned when Tristan reached over playfully and easily knocked him down by pushing against his shoulders. He sat on the ground, looking up at the other three, who all laughed merrily at his predicament.

“Come, now. It’s all in good fun, my friend.” Tristan extended his arm again, and pulled him to his feet. Alais dusted himself off while listening to Tristan’s words. “Here while we study, we are equals. You must simply call me Tristan while we are here, none of that ‘Prince’ nonsense. I have more than enough sycophants in my father’s court – present company excepted,” he smiled at the two knights, who smiled back. It was becoming apparent to Alais that there was more to this fair-haired prince than his appearance let on.

As the morning of studying chivalry wore onward, both young men were itching for some action. After the noonday meal, the two knights motioned that the boys should follow them to the fenced-off ring that stood adjacent to the tent. Once there, Gareth tossed a sword to Alais, and Belias did likewise to Tristan. Both boys caught the swords expertly, grinning at each other in anticipation.

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