“Isara.” Darian’s voice was cheerful, but those russet eyes tracked my approach like he was calculating threat levels. Smart man.
The book was with Cindrissian. Good. Let that manipulative bastard dig through whatever bloodline secrets Varyth had been hoarding. Let him find proof of whatever gift I supposedly carried—the one Varyth had been so meticulously controlling, keeping me calm and contained like an explosive he didn’t want to detonate.
Great emotional distress, Cindrissian had said. That’s when gifts manifested.
And Varyth had spent weeks making sure I never got stressed enough to explode.
Except right now, I was ready to tear this entire fucking castle apart stone by stone.
Maybe one of them would do. Maybe I could work out some of this rage on someone who wasn’t actively trying to keep me docile.
The female warriors were already backing up, creating space. They could probably smell the violence coming off me in waves.
“What are you doing?” I asked, gesturing to the assembled group.
Fenric shrugged, apparently deciding to brave whatever storm was building. “Training new recruits. We’ve finally managed to convince enough females to join the ranks.”
“And why,” I said, deceptively calm, “are four men teaching a group ofwomen?”
The question hung in the air like a blade poised to fall. Several of the female warriors exchanged glances, clearly sensing the undercurrent of tension that had nothing to do with sword work.
“We don’t exactly have senior female warriors available for training duties,” Fenric replied, though he’d lost some of that casual confidence.
I raised an eyebrow. “Shaelith? Brynelle?”
“They’re not technically part of the military structure,” Lincatheron gestured to the group. “And we’ve only recently opened the ranks to women, though I’ve been advocating for it for some time.”
“Right,” I said, my smile sharp enough to cut. “So your solution was to have three men teach women how to fight.”
Darian’s grin widened, apparently missing the danger signs entirely. “Hey, we’re perfectly capable teachers. Results speak for themselves.”
“You’re men,” I stated flatly.
“Last I checked, yes.” Fenric’s confidence was firmly in place now. “But if you think there’s such a difference in technique, maybe you should show these warriors what you mean.”
The challenge hung between us, loaded with assumption and overconfidence. The kind of casual dismissal I’d faced my entire life. Men who thought they understood battle better than someone who’d actually bled in it.
The black fire stirred eagerly beneath my skin, hungry for release. For the chance to burn through the frustration that had been building for days. Varyth’s manipulations, his choices that weren’t choices, his protective distance that felt more like control.
Fine. If they wanted a demonstration, I’d give them one.
“Gladly,” I said, the words carrying the promise of violence.
“Alright then.” Fenric, who had apparently decided he wanted to die today, stepped forward and turned to address the female warriors with a confident swagger that made something violent stir in my chest. “Ladies, watch closely. You’re about to see why centuries of combat experience matters more than?—”
My eyes rolled so hard I was genuinely concerned they might fall out of my head and bounce across the training yard.
“Whatever amateur instruction you might have received elsewhere.”
Amateur instruction. Right.
Because clearly someone who looked like me—human, female, relatively new to this realm—couldn’t possibly have learned to fight anywhere that mattered.
The female warriors pressed back against the training yard’s edges, their faces bright with anticipation. A few exchanged whispered bets, I caught fragments about how long I’d last, whether Fenric would go easy on me.
How fucking adorable.
“Fenric.” Darian’s warning cut through the tension. “Maybe we should?—”
