This was unbelievable. Though Cailean did greatly admire her determination, and part of him found the cheeky way she was speaking to him endearing and even exciting, he still sincerely doubted that this was a good idea. He had nothing against women as warriors, but a woman of her age with no experience, of her short, slim stature with barely any muscle, and with the haunted look in her eyes…
No. He wouldn't risk this young woman based on Senan's idealism. He understood why Senan wanted to give her a chance; Senan wanted to give everyone a chance. But Cailean just could not believe that this girl had what it took, and he didn't want to waste their time — or risk her life.
He'd promised he'd train her, though, not only to Mary herself, but in front of practically the whole camp. That meant that, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't just straight up refuse now. He needed another tactic.
"Ye found yer sleepin' arrangements tae yer taste?"
"A soft bed is always tae me taste," Mary replied with a small smile. Something in the way she said it made Cailean believe that she hadn't really gotten to experience a soft bed all that often in recent times. "And the food ye provided was wonderful as well, so thank ye. I'm ready tae start trainin' now."
His distraction techniques weren't working, and this bothered Cailean more than he'd like to admit. This morning, Darren had told him plainly that he'd just have to follow through, but Cailean still believed there was a way to avoid this.
"Ye are sharin' with Ferda and Patty, aye?" he asked. "Ferda's one of our finest scouts. She's close with the White Sparrows, they're?—"
"I ken who the Sparrows are," Mary interrupted. She spoke so plainly that it was clear that this was true, much to Cailean's surprise. How did this strange, random girl Senan had found know about the White Sparrows? "They're fine spies. And I'm sure Ferda is a fine scout. But neither of those things are what I want, if that's what ye're hintin' at."
"It is," Cailean replied, spurred into honesty and allowing a little of his annoyance to leak into his voice. "It is what I'm hintin' at. Why did Senan nae take ye tae the Sparrows rather than bring ye here? With yer build and yer temperament?—"
"Ye dinnae ken me temperament beyond these short conversations we've had," Mary replied sharply. "And as for me build, Senan says I'm small but fast. I can use that tae me advantage."
Frustrated by Senan's encouragement of Mary, Cailean barely knew how to respond. Did the councilman not see the girl before him? Did he not know that they could not afford to carry people, nor to put more people at risk?
"Ye'd put it tae better use as a spy," Cailean argued. He didn't know what about her was getting under his skin so much; usually he was much better at keeping his emotions under wraps and dealing with everything more calmly, but right now, he felt unbelievably riled. "Let us reach out tae Morag at the Sparrows. She'll take ye in."
"I've already been offered a place with the White Sparrows by Ann, and I turned it down," Mary said cooly, and again it was clear from her tone that she was telling the truth. Cailean raised an eyebrow, curiosity about this girl's past warring with his determination to send her away. "I told ye already, I want nothin' more than tae be trained as a warrior. That's who I am."
"Have ye fought before?" Cailean asked, folding his arms. "Have ye seen blood? Death? Do ye think ye have in ye what it takes tae take a life?"
"I have in me what it takes taesavea life. A thousand lives, if I have tae," Mary replied. She shivered and said, "I've seen death. I've seen what happens when a vulnerable person is slaughtered. I will never allow meself nor anyone else I stand with tae be in that position — and if that means I need tae hold a knife tae a man's neck, or cut an enemy down with a sword, then I will."
"Ye look like ye can barely hold a sword," Cailean shot out, his exasperation overwhelming him. Even he knew that he was being overly rude, but he didn't seem to be able to stop himself. This girl was activating emotions in him that he hadn't even known he had.
Mary scoffed. "There's more than one kind of sword in the world, with more than one weight and balance, ye ken," she told him in an impressively patronizing voice. "I'd have expected a warrior of yer experience and caliber tae ken that."
Cailean realized then that this back and forth was no use. It didn't matter what he said; Mary was going to rebut his every word and return to her determination to fight. He looked around him and noticed that a few people had started to arrive, but not too many yet.
What to do? If he had a hundred years, perhaps he could train her into a warrior. He admitted that she must havesomethingto her, if Senan had brought her here, but he didn't believe it was enough. He didn't have a hundred years; he didn't even have one year. He didn't even know if he had onedaybefore the next time he needed all warriors to be all hands on deck for an unexpected attack.
If he challenged her to a fight now or set her a training task, what would happen? He could still see the bruises she'd obviously earned from Senan's training. That was all well and good when it was a one-on-one mentorship, but how well would the girl cope if she failed in front of everyone? Soon, half the camp would arrive to train, and the other half would probably follow to watch, as they did most days.
If he couldn't reason with her, then there was only one choice. He would have to scare her away — at least, away from the path of becoming a warrior. He didn't mind if she stayed around the camp, but he truly felt she'd be better suited to any other role than this one. So he'd intimidate her here and now, make her realize that she was not fit to do this, and see what they could do with her after. He hoped that he could drive her away quickly before anyone else arrived, and that way he could at least save her most of the inevitable embarrassment that would come from the failure in front of everyone.
He sighed and turned to the weapons rack, ignoring her for a few moments as he selected one of the heaviest training swords — a real weapon but with a blunted edge to at least minimize the serious injuries that it could cause. He removed his shirt despite the chill of the day, allowing her to see the scars that decorated his torso from the many battles he'd been through over the years and the pain he'd suffered to get to this point, then hefted up the sword and turned to face her.
She was staring, her eyes on his chest. For a moment, there was a burning intensity in her gaze, and Cailean felt a strange heat rush through him under her scrutiny. Was she staring at his scars, as he'd intended, or was it something else that drew her gaze to him?
Cailean wasn't used to thinking of himself in a way that a woman might view him through her eyes, and his heart sped up as he briefly wondered what she was seeing. Did she enjoy the sight? Or did he scare her? For just a moment, he wasn't sure which he preferred.
He shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time for such thoughts, and he would not allow the heat that was pulsing through his body at those thoughts to cloud his mind. His task was simple; he needed to get rid of any ambition she might have to fight, even if it meant that she never looked at him again.
Holding up the sword, he made sure to arrange his expression into his most intimidating look. He nodded toward the weapon rack and said, "Choose."
"Choose?" she asked, her voice faltering a little in a way that was a little too interesting to his ears.
"Pick yer weapon," Cailean told her. "And then come at me with everythin' ye have. Nae holdin' back from either of us." He nodded toward the rack again, adopting a tone of voice that reminded him of Kier at the older man's most severe. "Ye want tae be a warrior for the rebellion? Truly? Then show me what ye've got."
8
Chapter Eight
