Bavirra loved the show of the battle as much as the exertion, whereas I merely wanted to win. To prove myself. I felt that, if I did, it would be another signifier that I was on the right path. That I could protect and fight for what I believed in.
Bavirra came at me yet again. Spinning, I deflected her battle-axe. The metal of the axe struck the stone ground of the castle, echoing throughout the otherwise silent chamber. Bavirra recovered masterfully, as she had every other time, and charged again.
Dwarves were powerful, especially when moving quickly over short distances. In truth, they were far quicker than I’d have imagined, and I could imagine quite a lot.
Axe raised, Bavirra struck, and this time, my blade met hers in the air, hooking on the curve and stopping the metal at my pommel. The princess shoved upward. I twisted to the side just in time to avoid the blade hitting the shield in front of my face.
I was at least a head or two taller than her, though in this scenario that meant I had to watch my lower half more than I usually did. A lesson I’d learned by losing the first two sparring matches.
“Did you stay up too late?” Bavirra teased. “Your arm is shaking.”
I’d grown stronger in the weeks I’d been free, but Bavirra trained often—and had worked in the mines, as was her family’s custom. So like her parents and siblings, her arm muscles were something to envy—and for me, something to conquer.
Though in this case, I was feigning weakness. I acted mortified, and Bavirra pressed harder, sensing a win close by. I allowed my arms to shake harder, preparing my wings for the right moment.
On the sidelines, the princes, Caelo, and Anna cheered for one princess or the other. Beyond them, I caught a flash of coin being passed around. Others had taken bets.
I hope they bet on the stranger. I allowed Bavirra to raise her axe again and as she brought it down, my wings snapped out of their protective position. I leapt.
Her body flew forward, her axe slammed into the ground as I flew and flipped. It was a move I’d seen Sian pull many times and tried once or twice myself—never to the effect Sian did, but today, it felt right. Like I mightbe nearing Sian’s natural grace. I soared over the princess and extended my sword.
It struck the warder’s protection at the base of her neck, the spot lighting up for all to see.
“That’s my wife!” Vale shouted, pride lacing his voice.
The moment my feet hit the ground, he was there, scooping me up and pulling me into a kiss that sent flames through my body.
When we broke apart, I looked up at him and beamed. “I feel like pieces of everything I’ve learned are coming together. Slowly but surely.”
“Excellent progress.” He let out a chuckle. “In truth, I don’t feel that I can call you ‘little beast’ any longer. There’s nothinglittleabout what you’ve done today—or for weeks. I believe that you need another name.”
“How about a force of nature?” Bavirra came up behind us, her voice breathy from the effort of our fight. “Fighting her feels like one. It’s almost impossible to believe that you’ve been training for only a couple of moons.”
“When you have a lot to lose, you learn quickly,” I said. “Not to mention, I’ve been lucky to have varied, skilled, and generous teachers too. People like you.”
She grinned her thanks.
I leaned into Vale and looked up at him. “I think it’s time to retire for a while, though?”
We’d been training for many hours and tomorrow we had a long journey ahead of us. Being tired would not help.
“Agreed, Force.”
I cocked my head.
“Yes? No?” he asked.
The name hadn’t resonated when Bavirra said it. Not until I heard it from my mate’s lips. Although I didn’t think I was quite worthy of it, maybe I could grow into such a powerful name.
Chapter 12
VALE
Ipacked the last of my belongings and, latching the bag shut, my gaze caught on the line of snowflakes running the length of my left fourth finger. I rubbed the line with my thumb.
We had shown many people the marks and had marveled at them ourselves for hours, and yet, I still barely dared to believe that they were real. My soulmate had been in front of me for weeks.
In dreams of turns past, or as I walked the countryside with soldiers, I’d often thought that if I was among the lucky few to find my fated mate, I’d know in an instant. Perhaps that Pórr, the dead god of storms and thunder, would reawaken and strike me down with a bolt.
