Eldritch slows as he approaches, looking between us. “Am I interrupting?”
“No.” Our voices echo in unison.
I’ve known Eldritch since the day I first drew breath. The broad, older, gruff male has been my tutor, my instructor, my valued confidant and an advisor when my father died and my mother withdrew from life rather than face it without him. Now, he acts as a military commander, overseeing day to day operations to keep his unending mind busy.
Familiarity is what we’re both used to, and I sense Lyra’s surprise when he rolls his eyes. “You’re late, lad. Get your sword.”
Lyra bristles when he turns to her, but I recognize the look with a mounting dread climbing up my chest. His words only confirm it. “You’ll be joining us in the ring, I assume?”
I stiffen. “Absolutely not.”
“Do I have a choice?” she says icily. “Or areyoumaking it for me?”
Eldritch raises an eyebrow.
Ignoring him, I point at the fence we just climbed over. “You will wait for me here.”
Her eyes heat, but they threaten to burn through me when I open my palms. “We’re back to that?”
“I don’t need to worry about a knife in my back while I’m training.”
Her face flushes a deep, crimson shade of red, and I smirk at her. “Although that little lump of metal won’t do much. Keep it.”
“You are intolerable.” She glares at the creeping shadow from my palms. I find myself whistling as it wraps around her wrist and secures it to the fence panel, following up with her ankle for good measure. “Worried about a little embarrassment, Duskbane?”
Worried she might injure herself further. “You don’t need to be worried. You’re not taking part.”
The womansnarlsat me. A lip-curling, irritated sound, deep and throaty and gods fuckinghelpme, but I almost smile.
I need to speak to Eres. There’s clearly something deeply wrong inside my mind, because even as I approach the ring and nod at the soldiers already working under Eldritch’s discerning eye, my only focus is on her.
I don’t get distracted. Ever. And yet all I’m aware of are those fucking eyes burning into the space between my shoulder blades. My hands move in motions so familiar that I could enact them with my eyes closed, the practice sword hitting exactly where I need it to.
Most of the soldiers here are well-trained. They have to be, since they’re the last of us. My attention finally slips from Lyra to their faces. There’s plenty of fear to be seen here, too, hidden behind jibes and petty rivalries, jokes that fall a little flat and forced smiles.
A few of them are too young to have seen any of the war at all. Our last large-scale battle was five years ago, hundreds of losses sustained when the Lightbringers sent several heavily-armed units through the Veilspire to test our defenses. Eldritch refuses to send them on patrol, his sentimentality showing. And I let him hold them here, too aware of how few would make it back.
All of them will fight at the end, to hold Umbraxis for as long as we can before it falls.
And none have ever fought a Lightbringer. Have ever even seen one.
Frowning, I hold up my hand and look over my shoulder. She’s watching a group spar to my right, brows furrowed as she silently assesses their footwork.
Stealing two pouches from Eldritch’s stores, I walk over and toss one at her. “Water.”
She almost drains it.
“You were thirsty.” And I haven’t offered her any water since this morning.
When she shrugs, I turn to watch the sessions with her, leaning back against the fence. “Did you want to spar?”
A shoulder lifts again. “I would have liked to stretch my legs. I’m used to more exercise than this. My muscles have a tendency to seize up if I don’t work them regularly.”
My eyes travel over the small amounts of golden-brown skin exposed by her armor. “Old injuries?”
“Something like that.”
“I thought the Lightbringer healers could fix anything.” I keep my voice low. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard from Eres.”
