Chapter One

Kieran was a member of the Parthian Royal Guard at the palace in the capital of Ilona. He had been a guard for three years and well respected by his peers and his commanders. He was known as one of the best with the sword and his wit was as quick as his sword. No one knew much about his past, except that he came from a small town near the border of Parthia and Delian. There was a sadness in his eyes and so many secrets.

The biggest secret was that his name wasn’t Kieran. His name was Kyra and he was a woman.
She stood outside the chambers of a visiting noble, leaning slightly against her spear. It would be too far from the truth to say that she was happy, but she tried to tell herself that she was content with her lot. She had a private room, finally, which made her situation easier. She had created a rapport with the men she served with and she was fed well. What else should she need?

Kyra, however, was not as content as Kieran. She’d joined the army in order to help combat the Scherian Horde, the people who had destroyed her village. However, before she saw any action, she was transferred to the palace guard. The reason for the move was that the army simply didn’t need her.

Excluding the Horde, Parthia was relatively free of enemies. It was a small farming country that made its money through their meats and wools. Prosperous, but relatively insignificant compared to Delian or Pyra; two of the countries that shared Parthia’s borders.

But that was not the only reason she was disgruntled. Kyra wanted to be a woman again. She was getting older and soon no eligible male would want her. She was almost twenty one years old! She was surrounded by attractive men all day and what could she say? She was as red blooded as any other female. She couldn’t help getting a bit hot and bothered.

“Oi, Kieran!” There was a yell from down the wide, bright hallway of the palace. One of her friends and another member of the guard, Sawyer, yelled to her.

“You taking over?” She yelled back. She tried to keep her voice as low as possible, but every so often it would squeak. The guys liked to joke that her balls hadn’t dropped, making her voice high. Kieran just went along with it because, really, it was true. She didn’t have any balls to drop.

Sawyer nodded and grinned at her. “Bit weary there, pup?”

She snorted. “If you’re replacement is twenty minutes late after a twelve hour shift, you will be too.”

Sawyer grinned and slapped her on the shoulder. “Captain Blake wants to see you before you go eat.”

Kieran groaned. The man was nicknamed the Bulldog and that name was very fitting. She racked her brains trying to think of what she’d done to piss him off.

She slumped to his office, just off the main training yard and stables for the Royal Guard. Captain Blake must have been a handsome man once, a while ago. But now, middle aged, he was showing signs of his cushy job. Lines marked his face and his defined muscles were hidden behind a couple of years of comfort.

“Kieran. Sit down. I’m sure you need it.”

Her brow quirked. What was this? He was never nice. He’d leave you on your feet until you were ready to collapse. He’d have you in armour until it started to cut into your skin. She sat down gingerly on the edge of a hard chair.

“You have an admirer, an important one.” Blake told her gravely.

Kyra tried to hide her surprise, but she knew some of it had shown.

Blake smiled slightly. “Yes, Prince Marcus sometimes watches training and he expressed an interest in having you moved to his personal guard.”

This time her surprise was clearly visible. “Me?” She asked. “Why not Sawyer or Franks or...”

Blake shrugged, interrupting her. “You’re of a similar type to other men in the battalion. You’ll be in his personal guard which means you could be going into battle.”

“You mean, if things between Parthia and the Scherian Horde escalate?”

The captain sighed and nodded. “They have been recruiting mercenaries.”

Kieran sighed. “I guess they have stolen enough to be able to afford it.”

“You start tomorrow, so get plenty of sleep and eat well. You’re going to need it.”

She nodded gravely. “Thank you sir. This means a lot to me.”

Blake smiled with affection. “Your welcome, but it’s not me you should be thanking.”

Kyra blushed slightly. “Uh, I don’t think I have the courage to talk to the prince yet.” She admitted.

As she made her way to the refectory, Kyra couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that had recommended her to the prince. She was good with a sword, but no more so than any of the older guards. There was nothing in particular that made her special, except for that particular secret that no one was privy to. And the prince couldn’t have figured that out. Could he?

AAAAAAAAA

That night, Kyra never felt happier to get to bed and go to sleep, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She couldn’t help what came to her in her dreams. Memories.

She screamed in her dream as the Scherian Horde invaded her small village.

The look on her mother and aunt’s faces as they locked her in a cupboard to keep her safe.

The sound of them screaming.

She waited for as long as she could handle before attempting to get out of the cupboard. She swung the axe as hard as she could at the door, the brittle wood splintering easily under the sharp blade.

Her breath was halted in her throat as she saw the destruction the Scherians had left behind. The cellar door hung from one hinge, broken in the middle. Her aunt lay on the floor, her eyes open, staring at the door.

Kyra’s hand flew to her mouth and she tried to steel her nerve, knowing that worse was to come. And worse came as soon as she stepped outside the cellar. Wilfred, the boy she should have married, was laid across the threshold of her house, a dagger sheathed in his stomach.

Kyra knelt at his head and smoothed his brown hair away from his face and kissed his forehead gently. She pulled the dagger from his abdomen and laid his hand over the wound.

She moved into the house and was immediately confronted with her mother’s corpse. Kyra sobbed and pulled her mother’s dress down over her legs. She closed her mother’s eyes, but the look on her face was burned into Kyra’s mind. The fear and anguish as her life and her dignity were ripped away from her.

But her father was the worst. His body had been broken, brutally and callously, with no regard for life. She arranged his body so it was straight, then took his sword from his stiff hand and grasped it firmly. Her father had never wanted her to be unprotected, and from now on, she never would.

AAAAAAAAA

The bell that sat over the gate of the palace bellowed out the fifth hour. Drills were in an hour and she had to wash before the rest of the men woke from their slumber at half past the hour. The water was icy cold and Kyra shivered as she waited in line for her breakfast, water dripping from her short ponytail, down her back.

She sat with her friends from the Royal Guard for the last time. They teased her, calling her the prince’s pet. Kieran merely shrugged. “At least I’m getting away from you wankers.” She said quietly, a smirk making the other guys laugh uproariously. They all slapped her on the back and wished her good luck, in a manly way so it wouldn’t seem like they were going to miss her.

She got to the training area before anyone else, picking up two practice daggers and going through her usual knife routine. This routine was the one she always did privately. The movements were fluid and feminine, and when she did it, Kyra thought there was no hiding her true sex. Men didn’t use daggers, except to stab each other in the back. Only a woman could know the true art of the knife, in her humble opinion anyway.

“Impressive.” A low voice noted, startling Kyra out of her revelry.

She dropped the wooden daggers onto the dusty packed sand of the training yard. She bowed deeply as she saw that it was the prince himself complimenting her. “Your highness!” She gasped. “I was just... before everyone came... I didn’t think...” She trailed into silence, her eyes turned to her shoes.

He chuckled slightly, looking amused. “You needn’t be so shy, lad. I won’t bite.”

He was taller than she thought he would be. Her eyes must have been about as high as his mouth. His black hair was short, but well maintained, unlike his soldiers. He was very handsome, but of course, Kyra already knew this. She had spent enough time standing in doorways hearing the young ladies of the court swooning over him. She wondered idly why he had not yet married.

“Your form is good, though slightly too... feminine. Not quite strong enough.”

Kieran nodded, making sure she made eye contact this time. “I find it hard to break out of the habit once I’ve started.”

The prince nodded and picked up one of the daggers. “I can only comment on what I’ve seen my masters do, however. I am much more proficient with the sword.”

Kyra smiled at his admission. “Most are, I’ve noticed. I decided it was a useful skill to have.”

The prince smiled again and her stomach jumped slightly, furious that she wasn’t immune to his charms. But even she couldn’t deny his good looks.

“I see I made a good choice snapping you up from the Guard.”

Kyra bowed respectfully at the compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

“The rest of the men should be here shortly.” The prince told her turning towards a pile of chain mail that was laid across a chair. He pulled his loose tunic over his head, exposing his back. She’d never get used to watching men undress in front of her.

Kyra tucked the daggers back into their holders, trying to hide her unseemly, feminine blush.

The other seven members of the Prince’s personal guard filed into the training yard. Four of them were burly and heavily muscled; built like brick walls. The other three were lither, but still very fit.

Another man came in behind them. He was tall and had long blonde hair, tied up with a blue ribbon. He leaned against the out building next to the prince. He smirked and whispered something in the prince’s ear that made him laugh. His eyes met hers and she blushed, looking at her boots, cursing her red cheeks.

“Kieran.” The prince said, capturing her attention. “This is my cousin, Lord Philippe of Hast.”

She bowed respectfully, but not quite as deep as for the prince. “Will you be joining us this morning, milord?” She asked.

Lord Philippe laughed. “Oh no! I’m just here to... watch.” He said.

His eyes wandered up one of the guards highly toned bodies lasciviously. There were rumours around that he had a taste for young and beautiful men, instead of the young ladies of the court who should have had his eye. Kyra could see that these rumours were absolutely true.

He smiled at her in a way that was very unnerving and instantly reminded her that she was dressed as a man.

“Down, boy.” The prince murmured, causing Philippe to laugh again. He called the men together and started the drills, putting them through their paces before pairing them up for sparing.

He paired Kieran up against one of the large bulky men, Gregor, first. He was very strong and wielded his sword with both hands and bone shaking force, but he was slow and cumbersome, and had a hard time recovering after each blow. He was easy to beat.

Padraig, the next soldier she faced, was slim and wiry, and moved much quicker than the behemoth Gregor. He also towered over her small form, his sword coming down on her with great force.

Kyra spun and kept low from the swing of his sword. She wasn’t quite quick enough though, and the dull blade fell heavily against her armour, dinting it lightly. She winced in pain as she wrenched up her own sword to meet his next attack.

The blows began to fall heavily and in fast succession. It had become an issue of pride. The veteran wanted to prove his place in the pack, and the new pup wanted to show her strength.

Neither wanted to back down from their opponent, but it became clear that they were both growing weary from the drawn out encounter.

Kyra realised that one of them needed to finish the fight. She ducked once more, under Padraig’s forceful thrust, delivering a swift kick to his unguarded genital region. He fell to the ground groaning and Kyra fought a smile as she placed her sword at his throat gently.

It never failed to amuse her how easily men could be incapacitated by one well aimed kick to that region. They claimed to be so be and strong, but that one blow could reduce them to a snivelling mess.

There was an approving laugh from across the yard. Lord Philippe was doubled over laughing and the prince was smirking. He lifted a finger and beckoned her towards him.

Kyra lent a hand to Padraig, pulling him to his feet before walking over to the prince.

“Let’s see how you fair against me.” The prince said, unsheathing his own sword.

Kyra gulped, wondering how hard she could go against him. She hated to think what would happen if she hurt the prince.

He smiled, sensing her discomfort. “Don’t worry. I doubt you’ll hurt me.”

Kyra was unable to stop the quirk of her eyebrow. “Well, it’s hardly a fair fight.” She pointed out. “I’ve just spared twice and been through drills and you haven’t picked up your sword yet.”

“Then it should be a real tested of your mettle.” The prince rebutted. “If you survive this then I shall know that I’ve made the right choice.”

They squared off, bowing respectfully to each other. Kyra’s was a fraction lower than the prince’s, as was proper.

They both raised their swords, waiting for the other to strike first.

Kyra tried to goad the prince into attacking first. It wasn’t until she’d gained formal training from the army that she was taught how to fight a duel. Her father had only taught her how to deal with the attack of someone else.

He took the bait, swinging a wide arc for her head. Her sword met his with a deafening clang. She threw his sword off, trying to gain the offensive stance, but the prince was coming at her again, this time a thrust to the abdomen. She jumped out of the way, retaliating with a quick parry.

From that point the fight became a fast volley of blows. The offensive shifted between the two opponents as quickly as their strikes and for a while, it was hard to see who was winning.

What all the observers could see was that the two were fairly evenly matched. The prince’s moves were more polished and precise. They hit their mark more often than the young rookie’s did.

However, what Kieran lacked in experience she made up for with strength and passion. She threw herself into every blow and succeeded in forcing her opponent into making mistakes, pushing him off balance.

The prince took the advantage when he saw it. Kieran’s sword dropped momentarily with weariness and the prince laid his blade against her throat.

Kyra smiled, confusing the prince. She tapped her blade and he felt it lying against his chest.

A draw.

“You would sacrifice your life in order to kill your opponent?” The prince asked.

Kyra nodded. “If my opponent was a prince, of course.”

The prince smirked and dropped his sword. He bowed respectfully, and Kyra returned it in kind.

He walked towards the stables, beckoning Kieran as he went.

Kyra followed, as she assumed he wanted.

“So, Kieran.” He said with a smile. “There was a reason you were picked out of the Royal Guard. You’re... quite unique.”

She felt her brow wrinkle. “Your highness?”

“You’re a woman.”

Kyra gasped. “What?!”

The prince smiled again, amused by her outcry. “I wasn’t completely sure at first. But today... no man would kick another in the balls.” He shrugged. “It’s just common decency.”

She merely gaped, not knowing how to respond.

“I could get you to drop your trousers to confirm my suspicions,” he continued, “But I’m a gentleman, and positive I’m right, so I won’t. There have been other hints.”

Kyra exhaled loudly and put a hand to her head, which had suddenly started to pound. “So... what is to become of me?”

The prince blinked. “What do you mean?”

She swallowed. “The law states that I should be executed.”

“Huh? Executed?” The prince said. “I have no intention of letting that happen.” He assured her. “Why would I let one of our best soldiers be executed? It’s a stupid law anyway.”

His eyes took her in, in one long glance that made her blush.

“I’ve had an idea for you.” He told her, shaking his finger in her direction, talking more to himself than to her. “You’re small and people don’t really notice you.” He noted.

“You noticed me.” She rebutted, before she could stop herself.

The prince grinned radiantly. “I did. But I’m not people. I make it my business to notice things.” He sat down on a bench leisurely. “Where was I? Ah, yes. I have a position for you. As my personal bodyguard.”

Kyra’s brow quirked. “Why do you think I’d be suitable for that? That’s a... big responsibility. There are others who may be more fitted to the job. Others who have more experience than me.”

“I think you’re up to it.” The prince said with a shrug. “And it wouldn’t be all the time. Just during the day. I need someone who isn’t as noticeable.” He looked at her inscrutably. “Do you not want the job?”

Kyra nodded. “I do want the job; I just don’t want you to be disappointed in my performance. I think someone else might be better.

“I chose you for a reason. I hope you will respect my judgement.” The prince shrugged.

She nodded, taking this information in. “Alright. I will accept. When do you want me to start?”

“Today. Go bathe first. You’re sweaty. And don’t dress in armour. Put on your leather breastplate under your clothes.”

Kyra nodded again, a short jerk of the head and bowed low. She turned to go, but the prince stopped her.

“Wait.” She turned back to face him. “What’s you name? Your real name, I mean.”

“Kyra.” She told him, bowing again and leaving.

She couldn’t quite take in what had just happened. She’d gone three years without anyone finding out her secret and in three words the prince had torn apart the comfy world she’d created for herself here.

She sat in the tin bath, staring at her chest. These... things which made her life so hard. She would never understand why life was so much harder for women. Men did not have to worry about things like being able to generate an income or being raped. As long as they weren’t around Lord Philippe. She fell back in the bath, sighing.

Once she’d got dressed she made her way the prince’s private chamber.

She inhaled, closed her eyes and knocked on the door sharply. She heard laughing from the other side of the door before it was wrenched open.

The prince stood in the door, leaning against the frame with a grin on his face. Lord Philippe sat behind him, lounging rakishly in a chair. They must have laughed more in a day than Kyra did in a year.

Maybe they were... lovers. Royalty never did seem to have a filter when it came to being too close to your family.

Kyra laughed inwardly. And they called rural types ‘inbred’.

“Ready to go?” The prince asked her, pulling himself up straight. “We’re going to review the king’s cavalry, and then talk to the court ball planner about the ambassador’s ball at the end of this month. Then... well, you just follow me about everywhere I go, really.”

Kyra nodded. She wondered if it would be rude if she pointed out that this seemed more like a demotion than a promotion. Wandering after this spoilt prince all day seemed like a waste of her skills.

Their first stop was the ballroom to discuss the upcoming ball. The large room was full of courtiers talking animatedly. The room was abuzz with energy. And Kyra was bored stiff.

It wasn’t that the ballroom wasn’t a beautiful place to be. It had a high vaulted ceiling, a giant painted glass dome in its centre that spread coloured light onto the white marble floor. At one end of the room were large, silver gilt doors, flanked by stained glass windows that depicted Parthia’s history.

At the opposite end was the dais, where the thrones sat. At the moment, only one was the occupied. The one on the left, made of the purest ivory, was empty. It was where the queen traditionally sat, but since the prince’s mother had died ten years ago, no one had filled it. The second was made of onyx and the king sat there, talking with his main advisors as he observed his son’s movements around the room.

The prince met with countless numbers of pointless courtiers who had very little use, except to gossip with each other about everyone else’s pointless antics. Their clothes were made of the finest silks, linens and furs.

The women wore corseted dresses, cinched as tight as they would go. They thrust their low necklines into the prince’s eye line. The men wore tunics in bright colours, their family crests emblazoned on their chests. The larger the crest, the greater the familial standing.

There was only one thing Kyra envied them for, and that was their soft leather boots, lined with the finest fur. She would’ve killed for a pair of those on one of her many nights standing at the front gates.

Kyra fought not to yawn as they moved around the room. All the courtiers said the same things. They wore the same expression. They made the same simpering noises to those higher in social status than them. Their minds were vacuous balls of fluff.

The prince looked back at her as they walked to his next engagement. He smiled. A smile. Not a grin or a smirk, but a smile.

“I know it’s boring.” He said softly, so it didn’t echo down the empty marble hallway. “But it has to be done.”

Her eyebrow raised on its own. “Balls have to be had?”

He shrugged. “We have to garner allies if we’re to do anything about the threat posed by the Scherian Horde. It’s a sad fact that the monarchy cannot fund a war on its own.”

She nodded as if she understood. All she knew was that the Horde had to be dealt with, but she hadn’t realised that Parthia didn’t have the strength to go up against them alone. They were a band of ruthless mercenaries who raped and pillaged their way through the country. Destroying other villages and lives the way they had destroyed hers.

She’d been observing the interactions around her. The prince was right. She was practically invisible.

“Most of your courtiers’ minds do not seem to be on war, your highness.” She told him in a low voice.
The prince smiled without humour. “I don’t expect them to be. They look to me and my father to worry about all that sort of thing.” He sighed. “While finding a bride.”

“You’re only twenty three!” Kyra exclaimed. For a man, he wasn’t old at all. He was only two years older than she; however, she knew that she was getting old.

The prince shrugged. “It’s never too soon for the old biddies to force their daughters on me.”

Kyra snorted. “I thought I was going to have to start catching their underpants as they threw them at you. Or at least come away with fingernails imbedded in my air after pulling them away. Forget the Horde; those women are far more terrifying.”

The prince laughed and nodded. “They are rather unremitting.” He admitted. “But I’m afraid my mother brought me up on too many folk tales. I became a bit of a hopeless romantic, much to my father’s dismay. I would prefer to marry for love, if I’m able.”

Kyra thought about this. In her mind, there was nothing wrong with marrying for love, if you were fortunate enough to have the time and means to look for that love. Her mind wandered back to her village and to Wilfred. She’d known him all her life and he was so sweet, it wasn’t his fault that he was boring. It was just the way he was raised.

“I was arranged to be married, before they... died.” She admitted. “But I had known him all my life.” She added in a quiet voice.

The prince stopped so abruptly that Kyra ploughed into his back. He looked at her intently, making her blush. “Did you love him?” He asked.

The young soldier shrugged. “I guess. But more as a brother than a lover.” She said honestly. “He was a good man and he would have been a good husband. Just not for me. I wanted adventure.”

The prince nodded sharply and continued. Conversation had ceased, but Kyra was glad it had. She had revealed more about herself than she really wished the prince to know.

Even at home in Angren, she had been a quiet, introspective person, and revealing so much about her thoughts to someone she barely knew and did not truly trust, was out of character.

She was still waiting for the executioner’s sword to fall across her neck. Or, even worse, the hangman’s noose. If the prince could guess her true sex, who else would be able to? It was true that most in the palace did not see her, but they couldn’t all be blind morons.

The prince dismissed her before the evening meal, earlier than she’d ever been dismissed before. She hardly knew what to do with herself.

She wandered the grounds until she came upon the aviary. A beautiful phoenix sat inside the bars, looking at her mournfully. Kyra nudged a piece of fruit through the bars to the phoenix, who warily snapped up the morsel.

Kyra watch the bird fluttered away to the far side of the cage, and felt some kinship with it. She felt trapped in her male identity. She felt useless in her capacity as a guard. When she had joined the army, she had expected to be fighting the Scherians.

But no, she was a glorified bodyguard. She leaned against the metal bars, pressing her forehead against them. Yet, what choice did she have, but to stay where she was? No, she was just like the phoenix. Trapped.