Daegel’s throat-clearing called me back. I blinked then fell into my stance and began working through the steps. When I’d finished, my breaths were labored, and sweat dotted my brow despite the wind chill. It had been long weeks since I’d trained properly, and it showed.
Then again, I’d never attempted both furyfire and swords at the same time.
“Again,” Daegel said when I stopped.
“After a break,” I panted. “And some water.”
“Do as he says,” Keres snapped. “Water breaks are for soldiers who follow directions.”
Scowling, I began again, concentrating on the form Sonoma had drilled into me until my muscles knew it better than my mind—cut, turn, shoulder-check with the heel pivot, guard up, slide, feint. Latha sang through the air, Dorchafollowing, while blackened flames licked at the edges of my grip on them both.
Twice more, I ran through the sequence. My flames grew each time but barely. My frustration grew along with it. On the third sequence, as I spun and sliced, a dark shield sprang up before me. It swayed and swirled like I’d seen from Rydian’s shadows, but when my blade struck it, the clash rattled my teeth. Furyfire shot from my hands, their flames eating through the shadow-shield until it winked out again.
I stumbled back, breathing heavy, as I steadied myself enough to glare at Daegel. “What the Hel was that?” I demanded.
“Motivation,” he said.
I stared at him, debating whether to attack with my sword or toss a ball of furyfire at his head. “You could have warned me.”
“That would have defeated the purpose,” Keres said dryly.
I didn’t bother glancing at her.
Daegel held my gaze then finally shrugged. “I’m a ward.”
“What the hell is that?”
“How it sounds. I can create wards—shields of protection.”
Wards. Shields of protection. It was kind of impressive. If he hadn’t been using it to knock me off my feet.
“When were you planning to tell me?”
He shrugged. “Now seemed like as good a time as any.”
I glared at him.
“Oh. And don’t overextend on the strike,” he said mildly. “If your opponent is worth the iron in his blade, he’ll take your wrist and your pride with it.”
“Got it,” I said through my teeth.
“Again,” he said, the word somewhere between suggestion and request.
I complied, mostly because I wanted to see that stupidshield again. To learn what it was made of or how to pierce it. I never figured out either one, but we went again and again and again. Until my knees buckled, my arms screamed at the idea of holding my swords high, and my furyfire was nothing but a plume of gray smoke.
Daegel didn’t look bothered. “You did well.”
Despite the exhaustion of my muscles, I hadn’t felt more like myself in ages.
“I’ll take the blades,” Daegel added before I could exit the stone circle, still gripping them.
I handed both blades over before my mouth could protest. Agreeing had less to do with trusting these fae and more to do with the way Amanti’s expression eased when I did.
Daegel wrapped the swords in oiled leather, careful as if he understood they were more than metal. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
“You’re welcome for the privilege of disarming me.”
“I’d hardly call you defenseless,” Thorne said.
