Swords, spears, daggers…they all felt wrong in my hands now after years away, like I didn’t belong with them.
“I want something new.” I dragged a pair of twin knives off the shelf, but the balance didn’t feel quite right.
“You could try the needles of the Bodymelders,” Cyph suggested.
I considered, picturing the long, thin rapiers—nicknamed for their needlelike appearance—Esmond had shown us. He claimed that a well-trained Bodymelder knew exactly where to insert one between the muscles to do the most damage with a singular, nearly indiscernible prick. They were impressive. Subtle.
That wasn’t my style.
“Maybe a scythe or hooked sword like the Soulguiders,” Vale offered, popping up at my shoulder. She moved quietly, but her voice rang through the space like a bell. The Soulguider weapons were interesting, their blades nearly a half circle and deadly in multiple ways. “I’ve always liked those.”
“Cyph uses a scythe,” I commented.
She whirled toward him, and I grinned at him over her head. “I’ve noticed.”
“Family heirloom” was all he said, throwing a broken daggerhandle at me when she turned away. “What’s your weapon of choice?”
“I wasn’t taught to fight until I came to Damenal.” She may claim to have never held a blade before, but the muscle control and instincts she demonstrated said otherwise. “Most Starsearchers are trained with an extensive supply of weapons, though. Many tend toward three-pointed blades.” She spoke as if in a dream, voice wandering as she disappeared down the aisle.
“I’ve never seen those used,” I commented, following her.
“They’re small and quick, easy to launch at an opponent.” She picked up a small knife, no larger than her hand. “Like this, but with three blades instead of one. But not useful if you don’t have exceptional aim.”
“Malakai could use some work on his aim,” Cyph taunted.
“Fuck off.” I shoved his shoulder.
I was intrigued by the weapon, though, and made a note to see if I could find any to test.
For today, I settled on a sword. One with a moderate blade and simple detailing, crafted especially for me. No wings, no mountains, no aquamarines. Nothing like my old weapons.
The blacksmith didn’t say a word of complaint when we handed him the first half of the overpriced fee and told him we’d be back in three days.
“I’ll see you both back in the palace for dinner,” Vale said when we stepped onto the crowded street. I’d forgotten how many residents were in Damenal now. “I have some errands to run.” She didn’t wait for a response as she bounded down the road toward the Sacred Quarter, her light brown curls catching the sun.
When her long skirt disappeared around a turn, I muttered to Cyph distastefully, “She’s secretive.”
“I can’t figure her out,” he agreed. But from the low tone of his voice, I guessed we had different reasons for wanting to.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Malakai
There wasa knock on my door as I was stepping out of the bath.
“Just a minute,” I called, stretching my arms above my head and groaning at the burn of my muscles before reaching for a towel.
The past few days had been exhausting, my body aching from the extra work I’d been putting in to train the weapons and tactics of minor clans as well as adjust to my new sword. It was heavier than I was used to, but solid. And with Esmond and Erista helping me with needles and scythes, muscles I’d trained my entire life were learning how to work in different ways.
Even after an hour soaking in the hot water, massaging with whatever relaxing oil Rina had supplied, I moved slowly around the bathroom.
I was beaten down beyond my muscles, though. To my bones, my soul. The added pressure of the war council, of everyone looking to me, weighed heavily on my shoulders. But as much as I hated to admit it, Ophelia leaving was the space I needed. Participating in these meetings, I think I was beginning to understand the stress she’d been under.
You’re not who they need, the ghosts inside my head echoed.Warrior Prince, this is your fault.
Those voices haunted me. I wasn’t sure if it was my own inner demons, the boy who had died at the hands of those Engrossian guards, or something else speaking to me, but the guilt rocked my bones. I gripped the counter at the shock of it.
Was I really going to be able to reverse all of that pain by attending meetings? By playing a role? Was I going to make any difference on a battlefield?
