“Could you write a letter to Cathros…?” I nervously ask. “I’m not sure my brother knows I’m still alive, and I—” I get choked up for a moment. “I want him to know I’m okay.”
The intensity of all I’ve been through bubbles up for the first time. In a few short weeks, I traveled to two different kingdoms, watched one of them destroyed because of me, stabbed a man in Liora, and potentially took my first life. Now, I realize that while most Elvarrans are kind to me, there are still dangers I need to look out for.
“I cannot.”
“All right.” I deflate, sitting back in the chair.
“I’m sorry,” he replies coldly. “I cannot contact the South. That is going against my king’s wishes. Your brother likely won’t believe a letter from an Elvarran kingdom anyway, even if I were to send one when I return to Rykaris.”
“You’re leaving?” I say in surprise.
“I’ll be gone for about two weeks.” Sebastian stands. “I must sort out some issues with my lands, meet with my king, and then I’ll return.”
He moves to the other side of the room, stoking the fire and adding another log. The space slowly warms, the soft crackle from the wood comforting my frayed nerves.
“You should stay here. It’s late.” Sebastian pours himself a drink. “I’ll sleep in the chair. You can take the bed.”
I turn my head away from the fire to look at him. “I cannot impose?—”
“Then I’m going to have to walk you back to the castle in the cold.” He shrugs. “Your choice.”
“I can walk on my own.”
“Are you always this stubborn?” Sebastian chuckles, the sound melodious. “If you insist on walking alone, then you must let me teach you how to disembowel a man properly.”
A sigh leaves me. I have no idea what I am doing in a fight.Some training could prove helpful if someone were to target me again. “You’ll teach me?”
“Yes.” He sets his empty glass on the counter, picking up my dagger and tossing it to me. “Catch.”
My hand reaches out, but I quickly pull it back in fear I’ll end up slicing my fingers. It hits the side table next to me, the blade sinking into the wood with a loud thunk. I wrap my fingers around the hilt and pull. I have to shake the table a few times to free the dagger.
“That’s a very interesting blade, by the way. Where did you get it?” Sebastian asks curiously as he watches me struggle.
“My dearest friend gave it to me before I left Cathros,” I reply, freeing it from the table. “Why?”
“It’s made of Umbraferr… or more commonly called shadow steel. The ore can only be mined here in Khalessor,” he explains. “And the handle is wrapped in hide, an Elvarran technique.”
Lydia told me she stole it from her father’s collection, but I have to wonder why he had an Elvarran blade at all. It may be a family heirloom, or maybe he traded with someone during his travels. I wonder how rare it is.
I stand from my seat. “I see…” I hesitantly glance between the blade and Sebastian a few times in confusion. “What if I hurt you?”
Sebastian’s lips quirk up. "Are you worried about me?” He pushes the small table to the side, clearing space for us to spar, unfazed by the prospect of me swinging at him with a blade.
He waits at the ready, knees slightly bent as he braces for me to attack him. I step closer, trying to figure out how to hold it, when Sebastian swiftly disarms me, the blade slipping from my grasp as he takes it.
“I wasn’t ready!” I exclaim.
“There’s no such thing as ready in battle.” He flips theblade around in his fingertips, holding the handle out for me to take once more. “Now, try to strike me. Aim for the heart, eyes, or ribs. If you puncture a lung, it will take a man out.”
I strike, but Sebastian stops my advancement. “You must strike with your whole body, not just your arm. Put force behind the blow.” He steps behind me to adjust how I hold the blade.
Using the closeness of our bodies, I strike again. This time, I catch the fabric on Sebastian’s tunic. He swears under his breath, and a wicked grin forms on his lips. “Again.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I practicewith Sebastian all night long, going over different techniques. He’s patient, and he reassures me every time I get frustrated. Unlike Margaret, who used brute force while teaching, Sebastian gently corrects my mistakes and explains what I am doing wrong.
My leg kicks out, causing Sebastian to topple over. His hands close around the fabric of my dress, and I fall with him. His back hits the floor as I press the blade to his throat, pinning him to the ground. Our chests heave in tandem, faces close as we watch one another.
