“Stay and rest. I won’t be far.”
I keep to my word and only venture as far as the high wall cordoning off the garden. The gardens of previous courts were lush and beautiful, full of flowers enchanted with the brightest of hues. This one can only boast a few shrubs and a neat stone pathway, as well as a patch of silky white sand resting in the corner hosting a meditative pattern of lines. All it would take is a sweep of my hand to disturb the canvas and blot the sand with my presence. Would it even matter if I did? After we’ve long ventured into the next court, will a wandering soul come across the marks I’ve left behind?
“If I knew a single compliment would send you running, I could have spared myself all this trouble when we first met.”
I turn abruptly, startled to find Yue standing not an arm’s length away. I am both impressed and troubled by her featherlight footing. “I wasn’t running.”
“No?” Yue grins coyly. “Panicking, then.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t lie.” She taps her nose. “Sour scent, remember?”
A deep sigh escapes me, my shoulders slumping with the release. “You’re welcome to keep your distance, Fox. I’m sure Sooah and Wen would be happy to continue with your lessons.”
Yue presses her lips into a thin line. “Have I offended you?”
Yes, I nearly say.Everything about you offends me. Yet the words never leave the tip of my tongue. I cannot bring myself to say them because I cannot decipher this strange sensation brewing beneath the surface of my skin.
Perhaps it is the way she moves like the wind, effortless and haunting. I hate it, yet I find myself yearning to feel her breeze ghost across my skin, craving the reminder that I’m still alive. I see the way she watches me; those large, alert eyes betraying her thirsty curiosity. Does she still view me as prey, I wonder? Or will I only ever be a threat to her?
I don’t know that I want to be.
“My mind is restless, is all,” I finally answer.
“The only cure for a restless mind is to keep it busy.” Yue tilts her chin toward my rope dart, which I’ve tied securely around my middle. “Since I’m already in the mood for lessons.”
I arch a brow. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
“Because you’re an incapable teacher?”
“Because this is not a novice’s weapon.”
“If a fool like you can learn to master it, how hard can it be?”
“You’rethe fool if you think you can rile me.”
“Am I?” she murmurs. She takes a step forward, her head tilted back to look up at me. My blood hums with exhilaration. There’s a fire in her gaze, a challenge. “Teach me, Sonam. I want to learn.”
A spark crackles its way down my spine. She has never said my name before. Who does she think she is, taking a bland name like mine and making it sound like music?
“Fine,” I bite out, pulling on the rope to loosen it from around my waist. “Don’t blame me if you end up hurting yourself.”
Yue gives me that blasted smile—too wide, too triumphant. “My failings are that of my teacher’s.”
If her aim was to get under my skin, it’s working.
I sigh. “Turn around and give me your hand.”
She does so, but at an infuriatingly slow pace. Once she extends her palm, I step forward and give her the tail of the rope to hold, careful to let the dagger on the opposite end down slowly.
“The key isn’t speed or strength, but balance and timing,” I say, taking my place behind her. With a guiding hand braced against her wrist, I help her swing the dagger as if it were a pendulum. “You must acquaint yourself with its weight, its momentum. Release only when the dagger is out and away.”
“Not unlike a whip,” she says as the dagger makes a full rotation in her hand.
“I suppose. Though this is far more flexible. Mistime the release, and you may well stab yourself.” Gently, I grasp Yue by the hips and turn her slightly. “Aim for that rock over there.”
She releases the rope to disappointing results. The dagger flails through the air, landing with a clatter at least a foot from the intended target. Yue frowns. “I want to try again.”
