“Callyn.” He draws his sword. “Please don’t make me go back to staring at the four walls of my quarters.”
I take a deep breath and hope this won’t be as humiliating as when I spar with Verin.
To my surprise, it’s not. It’s hard—harder than I expected, even—but my time running the drills has paid off, and I’m able to deflect and parry and block a lot of his moves. When he comes at me from an angle, I see an opening, draw my dagger, and block with both weapons, trapping his blade.
His eyes light with approval. “You’re better than you think you are.”
The words spark a little glow in my chest. “Thank you. Maybe I just need a training partner who doesn’t hate me.”
His expression twists, and I see a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. “I remember what it was like when I first came here. You don’thaveto train with Verin, Callyn.” He hesitates, pulling his sword free. “You can always come find me.”
That’s unexpected—and generous. Before I can say so, a cool wind blows across the fields to make me shiver. For an instant, I think nothing of it, but something in the breeze tugs at my awareness.
Magic.
Beside me, Tycho has gone still as well, and his attention has shifted to look out at the night. His eyes seem faraway, as if he’slisteningfor something.
I don’t know what he hears, but he nods toward the arena. “Weshouldn’t be out on the fields right now. Come on.” He sheaths his sword and starts walking.
I fall into step beside him. “What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
We’re back to secrets again. “You sound like youdoknow.”
He doesn’t answer until we’re under cover. “There are too many rumors already, Callyn. I won’t start another one.” He pauses, then looks at me. “But when the air turns cold, get off the fields. It’s the first sign of scravers.”
That sends a chill right down my spine, but just as he says it, the cold breeze swirls away into nothing, almost as if I imagined it. The sword fight in the arena is still going on, but Verin and the Emberish soldier are flushed and panting. To my surprise, the soldier looks a bit victorious, and he says something taunting that makes her face twist in anger.
Then he hooks her blade with a vicious twist of his own, and yanks the sword right out of her hand. Suddenly, Verin is disarmed, and the point of his dagger lands right at the hollow of her throat.
I don’t know him, but I like him already.
Verin looks ready to take his head off. She smacks his arm away and turns to fetch her fallen sword. When she straightens, her eyes find me by the railing.
“Your turn,” she snaps. That chill shoots right back up my spine.
But I consider what Tycho just said about my training—and what he just offered. I consider the fact that Lia Mara said she would intervene if her sister was too rough. She expressed concern at my exhaustion.
She’s never once tried to convince me to keep going.
With a start, I realize that I’ve been thinking the queenexpectedme to train with her sister—because I believed that my mother would have expected the same thing. But maybe all those expectations are only in my head.
“I’m already done,” I say to her evenly, though my heart is pounding. “I sparred with Lord Tycho because you were busy.”
“You were to train withme.” Her eyes flick to Tycho. “And aren’t you supposed to be locked in your quarters?”
Her voice is so cold it makes me flinch, but Tycho leans against the railing. “Don’t pick a fight with me just because you lost to Mal.”
She scowls, but her eyes return to me. “You aren’t done. You have been skipping our sessions. Perhaps I should tell my sister that you’re lacking in commitment and determination.”
Maybe she thinks that will make me flinch, but mentioning the queen actually gives me strength—because it tells me that I’ve been talking to Queen Lia Mara more than Verin has.
“Go ahead. I didn’t ask you to train me.” My heart is still pounding, but the words come easily. “The queen didn’t even ask you to train me.”
Verin smirks. “Then maybe you should go back to your bakery, where you can return to making sweetcakes all day.”
She says this with such disdain, and maybe among the nobility, these words would have an impact, but I’ve spent my whole life in a tiny town on the edge of nowhere. “Being a baker doesn’t mean I’m weak,” I say. “Maybe you feel like you’re accomplishing something when you make me bleed in the dirt, but you’re fooling yourself. You aren’t solving any problems at all.”
