“And I supplement that payment, both because he tolerates my tardiness, and so he doesn’t report anything too damning.” Draven grins at me, and I roll my eyes at him.
“Come on, you two.” Kenzo doesn’t deny it and walks back toward the open space with the glass rotunda above it.
It leads to a beautiful sparring courtyard, tropical plants fixed around the edges and lining the pathways, the stain of the glass above dappling the floor with diamond patterns of color. Kenzo moves to a cylindrical container where different wooden and metal weapons are stored. He grabs a solid steel bow staff and gestures for Draven to grab a sword. I park on a ledge of a planter, happy to watch for now. Anything to keep my mind off last night.
As soon as Draven has his hands on two swords, they break into training, the fight soon a frenzied battle. Kenzo doesn’t hold back one bit, all bulk and strength next to Draven’s fleet agility. Their fighting styles are entirely different, yet they’re both able to keep the other on their toes, staff clinking against the blunt swords. It strikes me how much Draven holds back in the sparring gym, keeping his full abilities a secret. Draven flips forward, his wings balancing him as he kicks out, slamming into Kenzo’s chest and knocking the large druid back. He follows up with a double-bladed strike, slamming into the staff with a resounding clang, but then Kenzo buffets him back with the bow, butting the end of it into Draven’s jaw.
Draven staggers back, blood pouring out of his mouth. I go on edge as he puts the back of his hand against it. A second later he spits a tooth into his palm.
I jump to my feet, but Kenzo looks entirely unruffled. Draven just puts the tooth back to wherever it was cracked and summons the World card and the Empress, healing himself, the blood dissipating.
“Now I’m pissed.” Draven points a sword at Kenzo, who only smiles.
“Finally, you’re catching up.”
• • •
DRAVEN’S SHIRTLESS,sweat gilding his skin and outlining every cut of muscle, the vascularity in his forearms standing out sharp against the tendons of his flesh. Throughout the day he’s sustained a black eye, broken ribs, and more split lips than I can count, but none of it has stopped him. A quick remedy from the Empress gets him up and going again each time, and he rarely pauses even for that unless something is seriously broken.
As Kenzo breaks for water, Draven points to the cards at my hip, his lip bloodied again.
“Practice time.”
“I thought my classes were canceled?”
“You need a one-to-one approach. Draw the Empress.”
His command pulls some strings within me, but I don’t think they’re driven by the vow. Iwantto learn from him, even though the thought stirs something confusing in me. My last personal teacher was as harsh as he was cruel, but as I meet Draven’s violet eyes I relax. Draven is far from the Lord of Westfall.
He pads his lip. “You’re healing me from here on out, Wraith. Unless you like me better bloodied?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” I tell him, and he laughs before wincing, more blood dribbling down his chin.
I summon the World, then the Empress, its glow pure as starlight. My hand hesitates before reaching for his face and a smirk draws those lips like a thread is woven through one end. Surer of myself, I grip his chin with my spare hand. “What now?”
“Imagine the wound knitting back together, sealing as if it never existed, your power flowing from you to your cards to me.” He watches me closely, barely breathing, prone beneath my power. “Just picture what I looked like before.”
“You’re going to trust your face to my memory?”
“It’s not like you’ve never looked at my mouth before.”
I startle, hating how quickly he can rile me, yet his grin is genuine again, transforming his face from beauty to godly. Fuck him. I tighten my hold on his jaw and he chuckles as I urge my power through the cards, like a flood through a pinhole. I’m frustrated when his lip heals only slightly, enough to stop the blood but not to smooth his skin like glass again.
“You even heal angrily.” His hand covers mine, his power coming up, brushing my own. “It requires something softer.”
Healing is a gift you give yourself.I breathe into him, “I’m not soft.”
“But you are compassionate, loving, even kind.” He holds my hand to prevent me from pulling away, his tongue dabbing the split. He gives me a wry look. “Maybe not to me, but I’ve seen it.”
My chest crushes inward, and nothing but him exists in this moment.
“Rune’s turn.” Kenzo’s annoyed eye roll tells me he interrupted on purpose, and we split apart.
Draven’s shoulders tense, wings popping out in some kind of instinctual protection, but Kenzo just tuts at him.
“You want her to be your equal? Then do not stand in her way.”
Draven backs off, moving to where I’ve been sitting, giving me an encouraging nod as we pass each other.
