"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 aroundhim 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 yearsand 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
Maeve had spent her entire life under the thumb of men who thought themselves above her. It had started with her father, then her husband, then the prison guards and Bill, and all the minor men in between. She knew what it looked like when a man was posturing, when he was trying to make a point, and when he was throwing his weight around in an attempt to be intimidating. She'd faced too many blows and too much pain to not know the difference between when a man really wanted to hurt her and when his real intention was to scare her and exert his power.
Cailean was doing a good job at puffing up his chest and causing her nerves to jangle, but not good enough. She saw right through him. She didn't know why he wanted to be rid of her so badly, or why he was so against her training as a warrior, but she knew one thing: she was done being scared of anyone, especially of men. She would not allow him to scare her off, not when she'd faced so many worse fears in her life and escaped all the stronger for it.
Maeve moved to the weapons rack, and after a short time perusing her options, she reached for a long, thin sword similar to the type that Senan had encouraged her to use. It would not be as powerful as many of the options, but it would give her the agility she needed to aim and evade as she required throughout the fight — so long as she could avoid the punishing blows that would be coming her way from Cailean's huge weapon of choice. He made a small sound when she selected the sword, but Maeve couldn't tell if it was approval, surprise, disappointment, or something else entirely.
She moved back into position. "This is me selection," she said, showing him the sword. It wasn't blunted like his, she noticed, and she wondered if he'd make her change it, but all he did was shrug.
"Are ye ready?" he asked her.
Was she? Maeve knew she had to take a moment and mentally prepare herself if she hoped to even stand a chance. She was all too aware that people were arriving and eyes were increasingly upon her, and while she didn't care about embarrassment, she knew that now was her best chance to prove herself. She couldn't beat Cailean in an all-out fight, she didn't need to be a genius to know that. But Senan had taught her over the weeks that there were many ways to win a fight, and that she stood just as much chance as anyone, so long as her mindandbody remained sharp.
So what was the angle here? What could she do?
Maeve glanced around her. The sun was still not fully up in the sky yet, though the brightness of the rising orb caused her to squint as she glanced at it, and she quickly turned away. She looked next to Cailean and saw that his eyes were red with the outlines of dark circles beneath them. Could it be that he was tired? Had he perhaps not slept well? A glance at the way he held himself confirmed her thoughts; this was a man suffering fromfatigue, though upon reflection it may go deeper than just one night.
She knew fatigue and sleeplessness, perhaps better than most, and usually, she would have been flooded with sympathy. Now, though, she couldn't afford such a thing; all she could do was try to work out a way to use this to her advantage.
The idea came in an instant. She shifted slightly, positioning herself so that the rising sun was directly behind her, giving her the blessing of shadow while Cailean would have to bear the full brunt of the morning light in his eyes.
"Come on, then," she called. "I'm ready."
"I disagree," Cailean replied.
