“For how many years? Eleven? Twelve?” Adelaide began. “I’ve trained for years on this beach, Theo. For so many fucking years, and what do I get for it?”
“Adelaide—”
“You don’t get it. You never will. As soon as you were old enough to hold a sword, Bennet trained you.”
“Need I remind you that none of us have a choice of what becomes of our lives?” He sheathed his sword and dared to grasp her shoulders as she heaved a rock over her head. It slipped from her fingers and fell behind her with a thud. “I applaud your strength and will continue to train you. It’ll be more valuable in your life than you know.”
“But I’ll never get to use it as a soldier, will I?” she asked. “For years, you trained me, but it was all for nothing.”
“It’s not all for nothing.”
“Why do you hate it?” She ripped her arms free, and her eyes grew darker with the anger swelling beneath.
“Being a soldier is more than glory.” Theo turned from her, from the defeat on her face.
“I don’t care about glory. I want to serve my people. I want to stand beside you, Alan, Esaias. I’m not meant to wear dresses and sip tea while chatting about politics.”
“You can still have an influence. You don’t need to pick up a sword to serve your people.”
As the third born, Adelaide didn’t have a duty to live up to. In most noble families, that would’ve given one the freedom to pursue what they desired, such as soldiering, or even marrying who they chose, but not theirs. Adelaide wasn’t to become a soldier, and she wouldn’t marry for herself but to continue the noble bloodline.
“What happened, Theo?”
He stiffened but forced himself to brush the feeling aside. He refused to tell Adelaide the truth. She’d never understand from a mere story. The real gravity came with the experience, which he hoped she’d never have the burden of carrying.
He didn’t answer her.
“We all see it,” she said, reaching for her weapons.
Theo grabbed his book and headed toward the path. He took a long breath, hoping emotion would flood his veins so he could shed a single tear.
“You’ve changed,” she breathed.
Bristling, he didn’t have to turn to see the darkness in her eyes, but he heard the swipe of her sword through the air. He drew his, meeting her blade before she had a chance to slice his back open.
“You’d stab me in the back?”
“What happened to the man ready to jump into the fight, who begged to go overseas?”
“He wasn’t a man but a boy!” His tone caused her to stumble, but he didn’t strike. She could have the victory, because she deserved them all. She deserved to wear a sword in the daylight, to train not under the cover of darkness, and to call herself a soldier.
Her sword slid down his blade, and she grabbed his arm, rotating as she disarmed him of his weapon. She kicked it away and thrust hers against his neck, stopping before the point could nick his skin. Her smirk tore at his heart.
“Enjoy this time,” he breathed. “If we’re right and slavers are entering our waters, you’ll get the fight you want.” His fingers brushed aside the blade as her shoulders slackened and her smirk faded.
Chapter 16
Amaris
Amaris’s head wasgroggy, and all her thoughts were shrouded in mist. Awake with her eyes still closed, she attempted to piece together the fragments of the night and decipher reality from her feverish dreams.
“You’re awake.”
Her eyes snapped open, and she bolted upright. Seated in a chair across from her was a woman with two pistols strapped to her sides. Amaris stiffened. The woman looked the part of a menacing soldier with tattoo sleeves and thighs that looked like they could crush a watermelon. She sat with her foot propped on her knee, and she stared at Amaris with sharp brown eyes.
“Who are you?” Amaris’s throat felt like she’d gargled sand.
“Sephardi,” she said, brushing back the short strands of her dusty brown pixie cut.
