An hour passed. The mid-morning sun climbed higher, baking the stone courtyard in a layer of sweltering heat.
The rhythmic, aggressive 'whoosh' of the wooden sword that had started the session had devolved into a pathetic, wheezing 'thwack'.
"Three hundred... and... forty-two..." the Ninth Prince gasped, his voice barely a raspy whisper.
His lavish, embroidered hunting robes were completely soaked in sweat, clinging uncomfortably to his skin. His arms were shaking so violently that the wooden sword wobbled with every upward swing. His legs, locked in the grueling horse stance, felt like they were actively on fire.
Heena sat in the shaded pavilion, perfectly cool and completely unbothered. She had finished her tea, sampled three different types of lotus pastries, and was now casually flipping through a small book she had brought from the carriage.
