“Gather up,” Boden announced, drawing them together like a faltering herd.
He looked to Fi. With a deep breath and steeled nerves, she stepped forward.
“Ready, hunters,” she announced. “Today, you’re learning how to fight a daeyari.”
33
Feast, fair beast
Silver energy snapped through Winter air. Then, a crack of crimson.
In a frosted field outside Nyskya, a baker’s son wielded an energy sword for the first time. The blade—more substantial than the kitchen knives he was accustomed to Shaping—rippled silver as he struggled to hold its form. He gathered his nerves. Charged.
Antal evaded the strike like a slash of shadow. The baker turned into another swing, parried by red-coated claws.
On the sidelines, Boden scowled, his beard coated in frost, eyes shadowed after a long day, and a lingering hangover.
“Maybe we should—”
“Not yet,” Fi said. “By all the Shattered Planes, and you say I’m impatient?”
Her crossed arms fought a shiver, cold seeping through her wool and ermine coat as twilight dimmed toward night. For humans, the scant light of their energy weapons would let them continue only a little longer in the dark. Fi would rather be moving, warmed by the swing of her sword, but others needed practice more than her.
The baker adjusted his stance. Antal hung back, waiting on his opponent. He moved slower than Fi knew he could, a catbatting the mouse between its paws, letting it test its swings against dulled claws.
“Do you think we stand a chance with this?” Boden asked quietly.
Fi had spent all day wondering that. They had weapons, they had determination, but most of their volunteers had never wielded anything more than a knife or hunting bow.
“They’re only support,” Fi said. “Antal and I will take the lead in combat. We only have to topple one daeyari. One Beast.”
“And Astrid,” Boden said.
Fi sucked in a breath, cold in her chest. “And Astrid.”
They could do it. They had to do it. Even as the baker’s sword sagged in his hands, swings failing to find their mark…
Boots thudded frozen ground. Antal spun, narrowly avoiding a second sword. Yvette joined the fray, silver braid flying as they swung, a sword more familiar in their hands. Antal deflected the strike, but his attention on the new opponent left his back open. The baker charged with a shout. Antal blocked. Yvette gave no reprieve.
Their match ended with Antal holding the baker’s sword at bay, Yvette’s blade hovering at his neck.
They had numbers. They had a home to fight for. From the sidelines, several trainees clapped at the completed match. Across the clearing, the other volunteers practiced target-shooting with energy crossbows as Kashvi strolled the line, bellowing orders to brace stocks and fire on an exhale. However slow, things were coming together.
In the sparring ring, the baker laughed in triumph. Yvette grinned, congratulating their partner with a pat on the back, then a lecture on better sword grips. The day began with most recruits too petrified to face Antal. It finished with nods to the daeyari, a grin from him in return.
“Is he still behaving for you?” Boden asked.
Fi would absolutely not blush. She was better than that.
“He behaves surprisingly well. Once you know how to ask.”
Boden laughed. “My sister, the daeyari tamer?”
She didn’thatethe sound of that.
Fi yelped when Boden snared an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest. He chuckled as she squirmed, followed by a kiss to her forehead.
“Eww,” she complained. “What are you doing?”
