“I know,” he said, still holding onto her.
For one last time, he kissed her. That radiating promise of evermore and the next. She breathed in the heat of his skin, savoring the abyss of his touch.
And then she let him go without another look, trudging out of the cave and up the sandy banks back to her captors.
Ready for whatever Savigndor had in store for her the next day.
Only Nyssa never made it to Savigndor.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
IN THE TWO weeks between the decision and their departure for the Bryn, Dorian trained.
He threw boulders and climbed obstacles until he puked. Hagen, and sometimes Katla, watched his progress and pushed him to the very limits of his body. Encouraging and also relentless. It was slow work, but Dorian was determined to get back to himself and build on his injured muscles.
Hagen told stories of his adventures with Draven while he watched. He seemed to have an endless bounty of them as the pair had been great friends since they were children. Nadir had begun hanging out with them when they reached their teen years. Hagen claimed that despite Nadir being the oldest of them with his immortality, he acted as the youngest with his constant jokes and mockery.
Dorian wondered if Nadir's constant jokes and mockery were keeping his sister occupied.
He'd still not heard or felt anything from her. He'd even had Hagen check-in and send word to Bala, but Bala only replied that everything was quiet as far as she knew. That Nyssa was training, and they were planning to strike a meeting with Man's settlement soon.
Something about the shortness of her message had him wary, but he didn't push it. He knew Nyssa wasn't dead. He would have felt that. And he trusted her to do what she needed.
So he trained, and he made himself think about his own tasks.
On the fourteenth morning, Dorian rose before sunrise and trudged through the snow up to the stadium. A few people were out, scraping paths on the stone before the rest of the people woke. He shrugged the fur from his shoulders upon reaching the stadium and made for the weighted wagon. He'd not been able to push it more than a few yards the day before, and he was intent on moving it across the full oval length that day. He stared at it, cracking his neck and telling himself to get his shit together, and then he pushed on the handles.
Every muscle in his body came alive. From his fingers up his arms, settling in his shoulders, pulsing through his chest and down to his abs, to his hamstrings, and into his calves... He strained with every step. The mud made the wheels resist his push. Grunts of agony left him, but he kept on. Determined to ignore the pain.
"You're going to re-injure yourself," came Katla's voice.
Dorian's hands fell to his knees, and he slumped over to catch his breath. "What do you suggest instead?" he managed.
Katla smiled softly, and she went over to the practice weapons. "How about a warm-up first?" she said as she tossed him a wooden sword. "One or two?" she asked.
He straightened with a deep breath to catch it. "Two," he requested. She tossed him another and grabbed for a long spear and a wooden shield for herself.
"You're moving on cold muscles," she continued. "Has Hagen not been warming you up before having you throw the rocks?"
"Usually, he makes me use my form."
Katla eyed him. "That's cheating, little King. I'll have none of that when you train with me. You train as yourself and nothing more."
He caught the smirk on her lips, faint as it may have been, and he set up in front of her.
And as he did, she openly laughed. "You're such a royal," she mocked.
Dorian frowned and looked down at his stance, noting his perfect form and set thighs. Swords poised at the ready. "What's wrong with my setup?"
She grinned. "Let's see how you play."
Katla ran. Dorian hardly had a moment to comprehend. Full throttle in his direction, he blocked her and couldn't help his backward movement. Her moves were swift and forceful, pushing him back with grunts and gritted teeth. Until she shoved and kicked him in the chest, and Dorian went flying onto his back.
He wasn't sure of the look on his bewildered face.
And she didn't stop.
Whirling the spear in her hand, she pushed off her back foot and started towards him again. Dorian somersaulted backward and snapped to one knee. He blocked the strike she came at him with the shield and struck out his foot. It whipped behind her calves, and Dorian shot to his own feet as she fell into the mud.
