The faint scents of leather, sweat, and oil applied to the training weapons hung in the air. Sunlight slanted in through the high windows, laying golden stripes on the warriors’ faces. Seven of them today, forming a loose semicircle, shifting on their feet with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
Gavelle remained nothing more than a shadow above, his talons curled around a narrow beam, his ember-orange eyes sweeping over the group.
“Today, we’ll do more close-quarters sparring,” I said. “Despite yesterday’s…”
I shook my head. Last night, I’d visited Crey’s widow myself to deliver the news. Held her while she cried. Made promises of ongoing income I’d ensure was delivered to her each month. But material things couldn’t replace her husband, couldn’t replace one of my people.
Clearing my tight throat, I continued. “Yesterday, I was able to assess your abilities, and I plan to work with each of you individually while the rest of you spar. I’ll match you with someone who either has stronger skills or who needs help to better themselves. If you’reable to defeat your opponent, I want to hear you telling them where they can improve, where you found weaknesses.”
Isi shifted her weight, and a loose strand of golden hair slid forward across her shoulder. When our eyes met, I dragged my gaze away. These warriors deserved the best training possible, and I was going to give it to them.
I didn’t look at her again, though the urge pulled at me like gravity.
“I saw a few areas all of you could work on,” I said. “Don’t overthink this. If you start planning three moves ahead, you’ll miss the strike right in front of you. React. Adjust. End the fight as quickly as possible. Here, of course, you will do so without harming your opponent. In the field, well…”
I didn’t need to finish the statement.
I paired Lexie with Isi, Derren with Bryson.
“Kerralyn,” I said. “You’re with Fenna.”
“I’ll treat you right,” Fenna said, her smile tinged with mischief. “You can trust me.”
Kerralyn grinned. “I’m bookish, but I’m fast. You’ll have to catch me first.”
“What about me?” Maddox asked, his ever-present glare sent Isi’s way. One of these days, I was going to remove it from his face and replace it with something he’d feel bone deep. Then he could live with regret instead of anger.
“Your turn will come,” I said. “For now, I’d like you to watch the matches and call out pointers to both opponents.”
He studied my face for a long moment before giving me a curt nod. “I can do that.”
Isi and Lexie moved to one of the mats and warmed up. When they were ready, Lexie grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Don’t hold back just because you like me,” she told Isi.
Isi’s mouth curled up on the corners. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The moment I signaled them to start, Lexie lunged with a quick right strike, aiming for Isi’s shoulder.
Isi was already moving, pivoting out of the way, her arm brushing Lexie’s to redirect her momentum. The move flowed into a sweep that took Lexie’s legs out from underneath her. Lexie hit the mat with a startled grunt and a laugh, the sounds bouncing off the high walls.
Isi didn’t so much as smirk. She reached a hand down and hauled Lexie up like it was nothing.
“Your block’s solid,” she said, guiding her friend back into stance. “But your pivot left you wide open.”
Lexie grinned. “Guess I’ve been doing it wrong.”
“Watch here.” Isi tapped the inside of Lexie’s boot with her own, shifting it enough to close the gap. “Smaller pivot, tighter guard. Then it’ll be harder to knock you off balance.”
I circled them, my hands clasped behind my back. “Good job,Barlowe.”
She lifted her eyebrows my way.
My lips almost curved before I caught myself. Gavelle shifted above, his talons scraping the wood, and I realized he was laughing at me.
When the first round was over, I matched Bryson with Isi. Fenna and Maddox both worked with Kerralyn, who, like she’d pointed out, was bookish. But she was also fast and that could make all the difference if she ever met up with a Skathe.
Bryson strode over to the mat, joining Isi, who swiped hair out of her face. The big man smiled in that quiet, assessing way I’d always liked. He moved with the patience of someone who’d fought long enough to know that you had to pace yourself in battle or you’d burn out fast.
