Silver Powerforce's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The east court held, but only barely. Cyndi pulled back at dusk, leaving the seam in the flagstones smoking. Bella walked the line of it once, then turned to Silver and said the attack had been a test. The next one would be a war. Silver felt the words settle in her chest like a stone. She had kept the realm for one day, and already the ground under it was cracking. She found her mother in the crystal tent an hour later. Bella was cleaning ash from her sleeves. Silver did not sit. "She'll come back with more," Silver said. "The guards can't hold a second seam. Half the court has never lifted a weapon." Bella looked up. "What are you asking me?" "Permission to train them. All of them. Cousins, guards, anyone with hands." Bella set down the cloth. "Then do it. I gave you the realm. Use it." Silver went to the lower yard at first light. Celeste was already there, her cousin and the closest thing she had to a sister outside her own siblings. Celeste stood with her sword across her shoulders, watching a line of guards fumble through a drill. "They're slow," Celeste said. "They're scared," Silver said. Celeste shrugged. "Same problem. Give me the yard for a week." Silver nodded. "Take it. Train anyone who shows up." Goldie came next, gold coat over her arm. She stopped at the edge of the yard and looked at Silver. "I can slow her seams," Goldie said. "For a minute. Maybe two." "That's enough for people to move," Silver said. "Then teach them where to be in that minute." Goldie nodded once and walked to the drill line. Sierra arrived last, boots muddy, hair tied back. Silver had barely spoken to her cousin since the succession test. Sierra's mother was Cyndi, and Sierra carried it in the set of her shoulders. "The west field mound is spreading," Sierra said. "I can hold the ground under the palace. Not forever. Long enough." Silver studied her. Sierra did not look away. "Do it," Silver said. Sierra gave a short nod and turned for the fields. By the third day, the yard was full. Guards, kitchen staff, two of Silver's younger sisters, a handful of cousins. Celeste drilled them with the flat of her blade. Goldie counted stretched seconds so they could learn the rhythm of a slow strike. Silver walked the lines and named the ones who lagged, then paired them with the ones who did not. On the fourth night, a runner brought word from the orchard. The clock tower had gone cold at midnight. Goldie's anchor had slipped for a full minute before it caught again. Silver looked at the report and understood. Cyndi had found a way to reach the hours. The training would hold the court together. It would not be enough. She folded the note and started back toward the tent to wake her mother.