“Dunveil won’t kill you for not manifesting your powers.” Brycon eyed them from across the table. “At least, not yet.” When Tabi turned her brow-raised attention to him, he continued, “There are enough ashlings in the other colors who are struggling with their magic; the two of you don’t necessarily stand out that much.”
“Not sure whether I should be relieved by that information or concerned how much you know about the other colors,” Jarek mumbled into his teacup, his reddish-brown hair shifting on his forehead.
“Concerned,” Tabi decided for him, packing up her things and getting to her feet.
Lory, Thal, and Jarek followed, the four of them making their way to the training grounds, the sight of which kept bringing back the image of Falcrest’s sweat-slicked chest and his piercing gray gaze as he’d leaped over the balcony banister.
When they arrived, Hand Sil was already flipping her dagger in her hand, her slitted eyes following the movement of the students slowly filling the yard.
“Split up into pairs, blues,” she called, not bothering to put away her blade.
They did as they were told, Tabi and Jarek teaming up, while Eira Moonfell and Thal made up a pair, the two of them standing next to each other by the side of the training area. Everyone else was already partnered with someone, leaving Frost and Lory the only two left.
They threw a cautious glance at each other, Frost’s deep blue eyes locking on Lory’s cognac-colored ones, and for a heartbeat, a sort of understanding passed between them. Two criminals brought to the academy by force. Two who chose this over death. Two who would do whatever it took to survive.
“I guess it’s us, then.” Lory didn’t try to sound pleasant. After saving Frost’s ass, he hadn’t bothered with much of a thanks, and if he came from the streets like she did, chances were, he’d long recognized her as an equalnobody.Only, he had some magic to make him practically invincible for her. Honestly, the three inches and heavy muscle he had on her would have been enough.
She’d seen him fight with his bare fists in Steel training, and right now, she was grateful they’d moved on to fighting with daggers. At least, she had some skill there that he couldn’t squash with his physical superiority.
“Spread out,” Hand Sil instructed. “Each pair will go through the sequences we’ve learned in slow motion first.”
With a flick of her wrist, a bunch of daggers lifted from the weapons rack at the side of the yard and floated toward each pair, ashlings plucking their blades from the air.
“Well, that’s some seriously cool magic,” Thal commented from the segment next to theirs as Frost and Lory got into position at the back of the yard. Beside him, Eira was inspecting her dagger like she expected it to leap out of her grasp any moment.
“Go!” Hand Sil didn’t wait for them to get ready but simply put them to work, already circling between the pairs and correcting stances, posture, and grip. “Make sure to do it right while you’re slow. You most certainly won’t become any more precise when you work at full speed.” She marched past Tabi and Jarek. “Control,” she barked into the yard, “is the ultimate goal of any excellent fighter, be it with bare hands, throwing stars, sword, or magic.” She continued to circle, passing by a pair at the other end of the yard. “Without control, you are weak. Without control, you are a slave to your opponent’s strengths rather than utilizing their weaknesses against them.”
Across from Lory, Frost lifted his dagger, giving her a cold grin as he set his first step toward her in a practiced attack, dagger half-lifted in front of his chest.
Lory mirrored his movements, raising her weapon at a matching angle to parry should he decide to ignore Sil’s instructions and lash out with his blade, but Frost stuck to the protocol, taking one deliberate step after the other, curving the blade through the air in perfect arcs and lines. Step by step, Lory went through the exercise, keeping pace with Frost’s movements while simultaneously watching for any sign he might decide to strike and kill her after all. It wasn’t like many ashlings had died in Steel, but with the number ofrecent deaths, Lory wondered if she should watch her back double these days. If Ricca was right, even after saving Frost, there was a chance he’d kill again.
Frost didn’t say a word as their daggers clashed in slow motion, blades sliding against each other as they both twirled to the side, getting out of the attack’s way in a fluid motion as familiar as sliding down a drainpipe, and they both danced back to their starting points.
“Not bad,” Hand Sil noted from the side of their segment. And when Lory glanced up, a half-smile softened Sil’s expression. “Now try that at full speed.”
So fast, Lory couldn’t get her blade into position, Frost attacked, swallowing the distance between them with sure strides, and when the dagger came down on her, shoving hers against it was all she could do not to have Frost’s blade at her throat as she stumbled, tripping over her own feet and landing on her ass.
White teeth bared and eyes flashing the dark blue of the evening sky, Frost grinned down at her, and from somewhere nearby, someone clapped.
Lory didn’t need to glance to the side to know the long, powerful legs in her peripheral vision belonged to Falcrest.
“You’re making progress, Bellmont,” he said to Frost, ignoring Lory’s seething as the latter pulled back his blade and held out his hand to help Lory to her feet. “I wish Vednis here would show similar skill.”
Hand Sil had already moved on, correcting Thal’s posture as he and Eira went through the slow-motion part once more.
“I wasn’t ready,” Lory said through gritted teeth, rubbing her elbow where she’d caught her weight and brushing the dust off her pants.
Frost shrugged, lifting his dagger again, but Falcrest held up his hand. “Take a break, Bellmont.”
Without a comment, Frost stepped aside, watching Falcrest prowl into the segment and take a casual stance across from Lory.
“What are you doing?” Lory had the faintest idea what Falcrest intended, but she’d rather ask than assume and accidentally attack her captain in front of the entire group of blues.
“What does it look like?” His eyes flashed the color of a cloudy sky, and his mouth twitched into a smirk. Not releasing her from his gaze, Falcrest held out his hand for Frost’s dagger, which the latter handed to him. “Attack.”
Lory swallowed the fear and excitement rising in her chest. She’d seen him fight that night with Anees, and there was no way she could land even the idea of a blow, but giving up wasn’t in her nature, and if she could get as much as a punch in, she’d call it a win. She wouldn’t give up. So, she plastered on a vicious grin, lifting her own dagger. “Fist or blade?”
It wasn’t a real question, more one to sidetrack him, to buy herself a few more moments of studying the perfect balance of his stance, the elegant, powerful lines of his body, the way the sun painted his features in stark contrasts of light and shadow. It was coming in from the east, and if she positioned her dagger right the way she’d done in thestreets of Dunai a hundred times to distract a target, she just might….
